#I had no idea how to talk all of a sudden

[runningthroughthegarden]

dumb young love

1.9k words, summary: when art leaves you in the dust for tashi, a part of you breaks. after an argument art realizes how desperately in love he is with you.

request from @fangirlinc :)

you had gone and done the one thing everyone had warned you not to do. you had fallen in love with your best friend. i mean how could you not? he was handsome, charming, talented, funny, everything you could want in a man and more. you both had such bright futures ahead of you and just loved being in each others company. which is why you never felt the need to profess your love to him. but lately you've been rethinking this choice. 

you obviously knew how close art and patrick were, i mean you guys all practically grew up with each other. this dynamic never really bothered you, why would it? that all changed once tashi came into the picture. 

you had been there, at the match where it all started. you had come to support them like you always had, but within those few days something had shifted and you had no idea why. suddenly the boys were ditching you to go to a party you didn't even know they cared about. 

they had come back to you the next day, raving about how amazing tashi was and the night they spent together. you noticed a glint in art’s eye that wasn't there before, and you tried your hardest to suppress the jealousy you were feeling. 

that day, when patrick won the match, you couldn't help but feel relieved that art would remain yours just for a little longer. what you didn't realize is that art didnt care if patrick was with tashi, because he was still head over heels for her.

 

“hey are we gonna have dinner tonight?” you ask, throwing another tennis ball over the net.

“yeah, just gotta get back to my room and shower” art replies, hitting back the ball with a distraught look on his face. 

“is it tashi?” you sigh.

“what? no-no. i'm just stressed about my next match” he replies, walking over to the bench. 

“you're art donaldson. you’re never stressed about a match. c'mon just tell me” you say as you walk over to him. 

“its just. patrick called and all he can fucking talk about is how amazing tashi is. and then i walk around campus and all i hear is how amazing tashi is. no matter what i do i can’t escape her.” he confesses, putting his head in his hands.

“i can’t imagine you ever wanting to escape her” you reply, letting out a forced laugh. 

“what?” 

“cmon art, from the day you lost that match it’s like your entire world changed or something. i mean all of a sudden your whole life revolves around this girl” you scoff. 

“y/n i really don’t need this shit from you, i’ll see you later” he scoffs, picking up his bag and leaving the court. 

“art!” you call out, only for him to leave you there alone.

standing there you think back to when everything was fine. how art would link his pinky with yours as you walked. the way he would call you everyday when he had to travel for matches. the nights you spent in his dorm trying to cram week's worth of studying into one night. the way he would so effortlessly plant kisses to your forehead. the moments you thought he might actually be in love with you. but now all you had were those memories. 

 

before you knew it, all art was doing was hanging out and helping tashi train. he had been your training partner first, so it hurt like hell to be left in the dust. you decided to try and let it go and focus on winning your matches. your most important match was coming up and you couldn't let your silly love life get in the way. the one person you had always dreamed of being coached by was going to be at your match. so you knew you had to train like crazy to get to work with them. 

a part of you was hoping maybe art would see how amazing your match would be, and finally start paying attention to you again. but you knew you were holding onto false hope. 

 

the day of your match had finally come, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. this was such an important moment for your career and you couldn't shake those nerves. but you knew seeing art up in the stands would give you the boost of confidence you needed. 

the first set was about to start and you still didn’t see art in the stands. you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought that he might not show up. he would never do that to you. right? 

the first set had started and for a moment, the world around you started to fade. you may have hated tashi, but man was she right about tennis. you were performing flawlessly and you knew all the hard work was finally going to pay off. 

after winning your first set, you go back to your seat, taking a breather and still scanning the crowd for art. he was still nowhere to be found and you could feel your sadness turning into anger. deciding to use that as fuel, you prepare yourself for your next set. the rest of the game goes flawlessly and you know this is the best you have ever played. 

hitting the winning point, you stand in shock as cheers come from the stands. thanking your opponent you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face. that is until you spot art in the stands. you could feel all the anger and resentment you suppressed fighting to be released. this had been your best game yet, and there art was, to ruin it.

packing up your bag, you felt a presence behind you. all spectators and coaches were long gone so you knew exactly who was behind you. turning around to face art, you push past him not wanting to hear a word he has to say. 

“y/n please i-” art calls out, quickly catching up with you.

“you what art?!” you yell, turning around to face him.

“you forgot? you had homework? you lost track of time? oh better yet, maybe you were with tashi?” you continue, looking up at him. you could feel hot tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

he stays silent and thats all the answer you need. 

“oh my god you were” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“please just let me explain” art pleads, a look of desperation you’d never seen before. 

“today was the most important day to me. and i really thought that as my best friend you would at least care a little more. but i know where your priorities lay. and i'm done fighting for a spot i’ll never get” you say as tears quickly spill onto your cheeks. 

art’s hand reaches up to brush away your tears, but you step back. 

“stay the fuck away from me art” you choke out, quickly walking back to your room. 

 

the next few days were hell. spending each day crying in your bed, you had lost not only the love of your life but your best friend. you had gotten a call offering to be coached by someone you could only ever dream of working with. you should’ve felt happy, ecstatic even, but the last conversation you had with art was still ringing through your head. he had called you far too many times and texted you even more. but you had ignored every single one. the first day he came knocking on your door, but gave up after an hour of waiting. the apology flowers he had sent you sat on your desk. you had no idea what you were going to do. until, you got a text from patrick. 

patrick 

hi love, art told me about what happened im sorry. 

y/n

hi, you don’t have to apologize for him being stupid

patrick

do you want to hang out today? try to get your mind off of him

y/n 

actually i would love to

patrick 

meet me outside at 2

getting ready to see patrick was a highlight from these past few days. while you were enjoying your sulking you knew you had to get out at some point. going out to the courtyard, you see patrick sitting on a picnic blanket. your favorite foods and snacks were neatly laid next to him. you felt yourself genuinely smiling for the first time in a really long time. you spent the next hour eating your favorite meal and laughing at stupid shit with patrick. although your heart still hurt, you could feel your spirits rising. 

“thank you for this patrick, it’s all so lovely” you smile. 

“of course i’ll always be here for you” he gleams, pushing away the hair around your face and leaning in to kiss your forehead. 

“what the fuck?!” 

you would recognize that voice anywhere. 

“art what are you doing here?” patrick stands up to face him. 

“oh i dont know maybe i go to school here? what the fuck are you doing here patrick?!” he replies, getting closer to patrick. 

“seriously y/n? you run off to patrick?” he questions, obviously distraught but you can't seem to place why. 

“hey you don’t get to blame her for this” patrick replies. 

“oh fuck off patrick would you let her speak” 

grabbing arts hand, you quickly lead him away from the public spectacle this was all becoming. 

“what the hell is wrong with you art?” you yell, shutting your room door. 

“i mean, you completely forgot about me for some other girl and now you're mad at me? none of this makes sense, you broke my heart. you don't get to be angry.” you continue, feeling tears brim your eyes. 

he paces for a second, running his hands through the curls you missed so much. 

“im in love with you” he stops, looking down at you. 

it felt like you were dreaming, like you were imagining the words that just came out of his mouth. 

“i always have been. i've just been so stupid about it. when tashi came around i threw myself at her because i thought there was no way you would ever feel that way towards me. and i know i fucked up by doing that, i really really fucked up. but when i picture my life i see you, i've only ever seen you. and seeing you with patrick, i was scared i lost you. i'm sorry y/n, i really am. i would do anything to take it back.” he confesses. 

“you’re so stupid!” you yell, pushing his shoulders. 

“ive been in love with you for like, forever!” you look up at him, confused as to how he never realized. 

“really?” he asks, pure shock all over his face. 

“yes! i thought it was obvious” you frown. 

before you knew it he was holding your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your lips. in that moment everything felt right, like the stars had aligned. 

“y’know i'm still mad at you” you look up at him, placing your hands over his. 

“trust me, i will do everything to make it up to you. i'm just glad you're finally mine” he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face as he kissed you again. 

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - A Day With Alastor

A/N – Well, it took a while but I finally felt up to writing a bit. There’s still a lot of sadness at home right now, but I’ll try to keep writing.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

TAG LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy @midoria-kinnie @meesachan @fusehoundshipper @velvettenoctus @crescent-z @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @rosiescannibalwife @skylerbutterfly @hamthepan @latersgaters-steven @kryptidkova @sleepyhead-number27 @cherry-4200 @harcourtholmesii @alastorandluciferspouse @holyspacething @kedelman24 @becsmarvel @vash-yuu @k-n0-x @radio-leigh @tamaki-simp @wolfdaddyalphasworld @http-dilflvr @cosmic-lavender

MALE VERSION HERE

GN / NB VERSION HERE

You woke up in Angel’s bed. The previous night, you two had laughed, danced, ordered pizza and stayed tucked away in the safe haven of his bedroom. In that time, Angel had been reminded of how much his life had improved recently, and how precious his new friends were, and you had allowed yourself to relax, once again reverting to your previous human appearance. Yet, after revealing how you had died twice in a night, the change to look human felt more like a choice rather than the repression of painful emotions; you still had no love for your Demonic appearance, but you felt it wouldn’t be so terrible if it was seen among friends, or if you wanted a break from the low thrum of energy it took to keep your human façade in place.

You groaned tiredly as you pushed yourself up, never having been a morning person, and upon looking through the slats of the shaded window, you saw that it was very early indeed.

Angel had already left, and you made a mental note to call him in the evening when you knew he would be done with work. Despite the fun respite the two of you had shared, Angel would undoubtedly have a terrible day as Valentino’s plaything.

Stretching, you got up and headed downstairs for breakfast, surprised when you didn’t see anyone at the breakfast bar. Technically, the breakfast bar was just the regular bar, but since Husk typically spent his mornings sleeping in, everyone had adopted it as the breakfast bar and so there were always boxes of cereal on it until noon.

Thinking about it, you realised that since Charlie and Vaggie weren’t there to greet you, Angel Dust had likely talked them through the previous night and reassured them that everything was going to be okay. It had undoubtedly been a tearful reunion for Charlie. Angel Dust would have laughed and played it off like it was nothing, though he would have secretly been touched that Charlie cared enough to cry over someone like him, and Vaggie would have been left to care for Charlie and steer her in the direction of her daily duties.

Absently, you reached for a box and began pouring yourself a bowl of Glutton-O’s. There was a thunk in the bowl as a dead cockroach pinned to a cheap ring of plastic fell into it. You hummed at Nifty’s idea of a breakfast prize, though you didn’t scoff at it. Instead, you opted to wear it, just in case the psychotic little maid was around. If she was, you would make her happy, and if she wasn’t, you could always throw it away when you were far from the Hotel.

Despite claiming the prize, you opted not to eat the tainted cereal, getting up to leave instead.

“Ah, (Y/N), good morning,” Alastor greeted you energetically as if he had only just spotted you when in reality he had been waiting patiently for you to awaken and head downstairs.

“Morning Alastor,” You replied warmly, used to his sudden appearances.

“I didn’t know you were back in our wonderful home. Tell me, was it trouble in Paradise with Lucifer?” His head lurched to the side and his grin became more malicious as he mentioned his rival’s name, though he was back to his default expression a moment later when you replied.

“Christ on a stick, Al. You make it sound like we’re a couple or something.” You shook your head, chuckling, “No, everything’s fine between me and Charlie’s dad. I just came over to visit last night. I’ll be going soon though.”

“Going? Oh my. Well, I can’t let you go without first ensuring you’ve had an enchanting day out. How would you feel about joining me on my morning constitutional?”

You smiled and got up, straightening your crumpled clothes. “Sure, I could do with a walk.”

“Wonderful!” Alastor stamped his cane to the floor, and your outfit transformed into one more fitting for a trip to Cannibal Town.

“Oh,” You hummed, glancing down at the new outfit. You weren’t offended; Alastor liked his travelling companions to look their best and to be honest, you had needed a fresh change of clothes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my dear,” He replied brightly.

Then, Alastor offered you his arm, a rare gesture seeing as he didn’t liked to be touched, and after escorting you out of the hotel, the two of you separated, walking side by side.

You had been to Cannibal Town only twice in the past. The first time was because that was where you arrived upon your death. The second time, you were running from the carnage caused by some loan sharks wherein you had been caught in the crossfire. At the time, you had been dressed so poorly that the inhabitants of the elegant town had chased you to the border, trying to take a bite out of you.

Since then, you hadn’t been back. However, seeing as Alastor was escorting you and since you were now dressed to match the high standards Cannibal Town held, you felt safe in going there.

All those who passed by you and Alastor stopped to bow or tip their hats in due reverence to the Overlord.

“So…” You started, “Is this your territory?”

Alastor threw back his head and laughed, “Ha-ha-ha, my territory? No, no. This wonderful patch of Hell belongs to my good friend, Rosie. Now there’s a fine Lady, if you’ve ever met one.” He hummed happily, “Indeed, they don’t make them like her anymore. I’d introduce the two of you, but I have it on good authority that she is currently away attending business.”

With that, Alastor led you to some of the finer boutiques of the Town. He snapped his fingers and the attendees rushed to his side, crowding him, and pushing you out somewhat. You shrugged your shoulders and began looking around at the many wonderful clothes surrounding you.

You had seen old films wherein boutiques like this once existed, with attendants and fine boxes tied with perfectly curled ribbons. Until now, they had seemed to be a thing of the past, but one good thing about Hell was that the past was all around you, and should you want a taste of something more modern, you could always catch up with a bit of Vox-tech, ensuring the best of both worlds.

You heard the sharp static screech that meant Alastor was offended and turned to find him gesturing at you.

The salespeople who previously crowded him were suddenly surrounding you.

“Alastor, what’s going on?” You asked uncertainly.

“Well, my darling,” He grinned devilishly, “Call this my treat. It’s rare that I have someone travel with me so willingly and I do find it ever so nice to have a passion project these days. So, these fine people are ready to bow to your every whim. Clothes, pearls, a bottle of the finest Champagne, you name it and they will bring it to you. In fact-” Alastor clapped his hands lightly and suddenly a tiny imp rushed to his side, struggling under the weight of the ice bucket he held above his head.

Alastor waited as another hired imp hurried over to pour two flutes of Brut Imperial Moet & Chandon Champagne, handing one glass to Alastor and forcing the other into your hand.

Alastor took a sip and smacked his lips together, eliciting a satisfied sigh, “Ah, 1911, a fine vintage. So, a new wardrobe then?”

“Oh, Alastor, I- I couldn’t,” You said sheepishly as a Cannibal Tailor began taking your measurements, holding a tape measure against your leg.

You tried to walk back to Alastor but were restrained when the tailor hooked the tape around your waist.

“Nonsense, I insist.” Alastor chuckled.

“No, really. I didn’t come here to get anything from you.”

“Exactly! You don’t want anything from me, and that’s precisely why you shall have everything. I do ever so enjoy gifting my friends, especially those humble enough to try and deny me my eccentricities.”

You tried to argue further, but it quickly became an exercise in futility. No matter what happened, you would not be able to convince Alastor to change his mind. So, you gave in, and in doing so, you ended up having one of the best days of your afterlife.

That day, you felt like you were a part of a movie montage. You were rushed about into changing rooms to try on several outfits tailored to you, your face was peppered with makeup, attendants were constantly by your side, gushing over you and offering mimosas or whatever else your heart desired (though, you avoided the finger sandwiches filled with actual human fingers, or any other food, seeing as you were afraid of what might be in it.)

Overall, you knew that this kind of attention would be too much if you were constantly plied with it, but for a short while, it was fun, and you were happy to let yourself be spoiled.

Finally, Alastor decided he had given you enough and offered to take you out for afternoon tea, which you happily agreed to as long as there were some non-cannibal options.

Alastor rested a hand over his heart as if offended, “Oh, you non-cannibals don’t know the kind of flavours you are missing, but if you insist, I promise to take you to one of the tamer venues in town.”

He waved the attendants away, leaving your new belongings to a Demon who would have them transported directly into your room.

When the two of you sat down outside of the Insani-Tea tea house that overlooked the pavilion in the central plaza, Alastor sighed contentedly. He picked up his cup and swirled it around airily, taking a look at the scenery as he changed the topic from the previous ones about the hotel, “This has been quite a lovely day if I do say so myself.”

You smiled happily, resting your hands around your tea cup and relishing the gentle warmth, “It has. Thank you, Alastor. I needed a nice day like this.”

“Hm? So, life with our all-powerful Satan hasn’t been all you imagined.”

You chuckled as Alastor caught your eye, “Well, it was all Charlie’s idea, and you know what she’s like when she gets a thought into her head.”

“Indeed. A very determined young lady.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“You’re not happy, then?”

You took a moment to contemplate the question, “Honestly? I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in a very long time. It’s… hard sometimes to be in such a new place when I felt so at home in the hotel, but I think that Charlie might be on the right track when it comes to Lucifer.

Granted, her methods are… Well, she’s a real ballbuster when it comes to her ideals on friendship and the like, but I think that if her father could see what she’s trying to do and make a connection with people like us then he would see that Hell isn’t just one big punishment and that he and his family did manage to build something sort of good here.”

At the mention of Sinners as a Collective, Alastor’s grin became darker and more sinister in nature, as if he didn’t approve of your placement of him and the other Sinners on the same level, though, distracted as you were, you missed his disapproval and sense of superiority. He however didn’t miss the way your smile softened when you mentioned Lucifer’s success.

It wasn’t love. Of that, Alastor was certain, but if he nudged you in the right direction, you could probably fall for that blonde idiot, and if that happened, and if Lucifer somehow also found feelings for you, Alastor could use you to manipulate Lucifer.

Like all of Alastor’s plans, this would take time and a lot of work, but the reward would be great. With time, he would be the new ruler of Hell, and that was a day he sorely looked forward to.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that our darling Charlie was right in her hunch,” He said genially. “You should continue to work with Lucifer. I’m sure it would be beneficial for everyone.”

 “We’ll see,” You agreed, taking a sip of your tea.

Lucifer paced back and forth in the Pride Parlor where you usually spent your afternoons. Where were you? You had been missing all day.

He folded his arms tightly against his chest as he paced. Had he upset you the night before? What was he thinking? Of course he had! You had told him how you died, and now… Now, what? Had you run away? Should he call Charlie?

Lucifer didn’t know what to do. He didn’t own you, and while you had claimed him as your friend, he had never reciprocated in kind.

The sound of the door opening caught Lucifer’s attention and he looked up hopefully, but it was only Spick closely followed by Span, each of the snakes holding feather dusters and getting to work cleaning the room. Lucifer watched as Span dusted the fireplace mantle, his eyes travelling upward to a portrait of him and Lilith together; it was one of the earlier pieces he had commissioned from an awful Sinner, Salvador Dali; the artist’s punishment for selling his soul to an Overlord had been that whenever he was commissioned, he wasn’t allowed to paint his beloved surrealism art and could instead only paint portraits.

In the painting, Lucifer was staring intently at Lilith, admiring her for everything she was or ever would be since her potential was limitless to him. She however was looking straight ahead, a demure smile upon her face.

When Lucifer thought of you, he couldn’t help also thinking of Lilith. Granted, you and he were only friends, but Lilith had also disappeared and now she had been missing for seven lonely years. Lucifer would hate to think that he had driven the only other person to live with him since then away too.

Anxiously, he twisted his wedding ring from side to side, feeling more miserable than ever.

“Hey boys,” Your cheery voice greeted as you entered the parlour.

Lucifer spun around to find you eagerly smushing Spick and Span’s faces like they were puppies or something equally as pettable.

“(Y/N)… You’re back,” He murmured quietly.

Mistaking his quietness for indifference towards you, you wilted somewhat, “Yeah, but I can uh- I can leave again if that’s what you want.”

“What I want?” Lucifer repeated listlessly. He held up his hand as if he was going to touch you, but let it drop again, “I’m… I’m going to my workshop.”

You nodded, your brows furrowing at the strange exchange, “Okay, I’ll- I’ll be in my room.”

Lucifer passed by you to leave the parlour first, then he seemed to change his mind, if only for a moment.

“It’s good to have you back,” He said softly before heading out.

You smiled to yourself, relieved. “It’s good to be back.”

You thought that Lucifer hadn’t heard you, yet as he walked to his workshop, a small smile reached his lips; it had been a long time since he’d considered anyone new to be a friend.

[abouttofillhisshoes]

Facedown - Matty Healy

A/N: I don't shag men irl, so soz if there are any inaccuracies regarding the ins and outs of anal xx thank you to my mates @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff, @man-im-so-high and @awellposhmagazine for indulging in my stupid questions and mental breakdowns in the GC❤️

wc: 7k

content warnings: smut, fluff, dirty talk, pegging, praise, also a bit of degradation depending on how you look at it use of sex toys (strap), mentions of lingerie/matty in womens clothing, sex shops, spit, masochism, cursing, polaroids/cameras, so picture kink?, girlie immortalizes him in a picture let it be poetic

“I want you to fuck me.” 

You choke on air. Matty is a blunt person, always has been, never really caring for beating around the bush. You didn't mind it, but you feel like he could’ve worded that a bit more eloquently. He’s laying on top of you, hair tickling the bottom of your chin, curls obstructing a bit of your vision. 

“Okay, fucking hold up, what?” you're convinced you've misheard him. Even he wouldn't be that blunt. He takes a deep breath, his tone slow and condescending

“I said, I want you to fu-” you hit him, giggling in disbelief. He jumps back in surprise, a grin spreading onto his face. He was actually serious.  

“I fucking heard what you said, jesus.” Matty has this look in his eye when he’s about to do something he knows you won't like, this glimmer in his eye, and you see it so clearly. His hand grabs your face, licking across your cheek, starting from the edge of your jaw. You squirm away, wiping your skin with your hand, throwing curses at him. 

“Fuck's sake, you're like a dog. Behave and I'll give you a treat, christ.” 

“Depends on what the treat is.” he winks at you, grinning widely as you screw your eyes shut in annoyance. He just wouldn't let up, like it would kill him to be PG for even five seconds. 

“So?” he asks, referring to his original statement.

‘I want you to fuck me.’ 

His words echo through your head, making all sorts of images flash in front of your eyes. Of course he notices, trailing his fingers up your bare arm, making goosebumps kiss your skin in his wake.

It's hard to even think straight, the suddenness of the question making your head spin. The two of you had never talked about it before, thinking it wasn't even on the table. 

“Are you- are you sure?” you stutter out, a small part of you scared he was joking, trying to see how you would react. His answer makes you sigh in relief.  

“Never been more sure.'' He's smiling, a genuine, reassuring smile. 

“Actually?” 

“No, I meant metaphysically, philosophically-” he deadpans, but it takes only a few seconds for him to crack up laughing, burying his face into your chest, trying to stifle his giggles. 

You breathe out, weaving a gentle hand through his hair, guiding him up to kiss you, lips locking as he gasps softly. You stay like that for a while, kissing and holding each other, neither wanting to let go. 

“You're mental.” you mumble when he pulls away, brushing a small strand of hair out of your eyes, sweetly tucking it behind your ear. 

“Yet, you love me.” It's so perfect. His body is warm against yours, acting as a sort of weighted blanket, pressing you into the sofa. The scent of his perfume is strong, tinged with a hint of the spliff you’d both smoked earlier.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

You can tell he’s never been in an actual sex shop by the was his eyes widen when you enter, flicking between the multitude of displays and posters, having no idea where or what to look at. His hand grasps yours, one goal in mind as you both step inside, heading towards a specific aisle. Strap-ons. 

Even if it was his first visit, he seems immediately at home, casually browsing through strap-ons and vibrators like he was in a department store, looking at lampshades or containers. At some point, you manage to break away from him, finding yourself in the lingerie section, lace and silk and satin surrounding you on all sides. Your fingers graze over a specific pair of green lace panties, the material soft to the touch. 

Your mind goes back to that night, to the memory of Matty, on your bed, shirtless and panting, the only thing concealing him a pair of lacey black womens underwear. You wonder if he’d be into it, buying more stuff like that, or if he maybe had more back home, hidden in a secret corner of his drawer. 

You're snapped back into reality by a repetitive tap on your shoulder, turning around to see it was Matty. He was holding something in his hand; a light purple, see through strap, decorated with specks of glitter and incredibly detailed. You blush at the sight, before remembering where you actually were. It looked big in his hands, intimidating almost. 

“This one’s pink and glittery! Fucking awesome, who knew they had so many types?” he booms, holding it up right in front of your face. A few people turn, but most ignore his loud proclamation, going back to their own shopping. 

“You're so girly, Jesus christ.” you snigger, stifling a crude laugh. It was so Matty, always one to pick the most extravagant, out of the ordinary, even when it came to sex toys.  

“Don’t make me fucking start-” he threatens, and you promptly cover his mouth with your palm, staring deep into his eyes. 

“Shut it.” and to your surprise, he did. 

He goes back to the isle he came from, looking for more options. You’d expected it to be more uncomfortable, but you felt light, like anything was on the table. Seeing him move out of your sight, you turn back to the fabric you’d been admiring earlier, running your fingers over it, and out of the corner of your eye, something shiny catches your attention. Garters. 

Your core stirs at the thought of Matty in garters, maybe even stockings or heels. You wonder if he’d even be into it, or if that was where his adventures in femininity ended. Lost in your fantasies, you don't even realize you’d picked something up. A black garter, little heart details making it sparkle in the low light of the shop, leather and metal cool against your skin. 

“Oh?” you hear a teasing voice say from behind, making you jump slightly. Clutching the object between your fingers, you spin around, eyes meeting Matty’s, and he has this filthy grin on his face, knowing he’s caught you.

“What's this?” he takes it from your hand, looking at it closely. His eyes light up when he realizes what it is, or more, who it's for. Matty’s ego inflates as he dangled in front of you, relishing in your flustered reaction, a blush creeping onto your face. 

“Is this meant for me?” he asks, pressing it onto his thigh over his jeans, trying to figure out how it would look. He moves to the mirror located off to the side to get a better look, admiring himself in the mirror.

“You don't have to- it's just an idea.” you say defensively, scared he’ll find it weird or odd or-

“It's a wonderful one. Do tell me more, darling.” his hand trails up your arm, landing on your shoulder. You don't have time to react as he pulls you in for a kiss, short and hot. A suggestion.

You stare at him for a few moments, not sure how to react. 

“What else do you want to see me in? This, perhaps?” he struts over to the lingerie section, picking up a pair of silk panties, showing them to you. You nod your head, earning a sly grin and a wink from Matty as he puts them into his little basket.

“Or are you more of a lace kinda gal?” There's a hint of tease in his voice as he holds up another pair. The green pair. 

Your breath hitches as he stares at you, looking for a reaction, smiling victoriously when he sees it. Raising his eyebrows, he wordlessly adds them to the growing pile of merchandise he’s accumulated in the short span he’d been wandering around the store. 

“Fucking hell.” you mutter under your breath as he grabs your hand, dragging you over to the garters. It all seems unreal, the way he confidently shows off the pieces over his clothes, ‘modeling’ for you in front of other shoppers, utterly shameless. 

“I'll wear it for you, you just have to tell me what you want.” he parrots your words back at you. ‘Just tell me what you want, Matthew’

If only he knew. 

“You look pretty in everything Matty, I'd rather you pick.”

“And I'd rather you be turned on, hm? C’mon, tell me, I don't bite.” you giggle a bit at his choice of words, the marks on your neck contradicting his statement. 

“You like it when I'm pretty for you?” he whispers into your ear, the words going straight to your core. Your knees feel weak, ready to buckle at any moment if he keeps talking like that.

Nodding frantically, you press a small kiss to his lips, taking his hand. You lead him to the shoes, heels and boots of all heights and colors stacked neatly in piles against a wall.

“Oh, I'm liking this turn of events.” he grins, hands reaching out to touch a specific pair of black platforms, adorned with small gemstones along the strap. You had a similar pair, knowing just how hard they were here to walk in. 

“You are?” you question, feeling his free hand wrap around your waist, bringing the shoes up for you to touch, the leather rough under your fingertips.

“You turn me on so much it fucking hurts. I love being your little fantasy, all dolled up for you.” he speaks slowly, quiet enough so that only you can hear. You cough, almost choking on air as he adds the shoes to the basket, walking off as though nothing happened. 

“This one?” he asks, holding up another toy. A pale pink strap-on, less glittery than the last one, but still incredibly eye-catching. You eye him up and down, the way he stood like he was holding the most normal thing ever appalling you. 

“You sure?” he nods enthusiastically, eyes silently begging you to say yes. “Imagine how pretty i’d look, imagine the pictures-” 

Oh, he loved to tease you about those, your collection of filthy polaroids growing larger and larger the longer you were together, stashed at the bottom of your nightstand. 

“Sure you can take it?'' The expression on his face is priceless as you fight fire with fire, his grin vanishing, being replaced with an embarrassed blush dusting his face. 

He wordlessly adds it, walking off in the direction of the till. You follow closely, watching him take a bottle of lube (strawberry flavored, because it's Matty) from the shelf, placing it in the basket.

It was all so new, uncharted territory for both of you. Sure, he teased and you teased back, throwing witty retorts at each other until one eventually gave up, but you were both equally nervous and excited, the idea absolutely thrilling. 

The bus ride back home is slightly awkward, the bags in your hands adorning the very obvious logo of the sex shop you’d just been in, earning judging glances from strangers. Matty remains unbothered, engrossed in an old edition of vogue he’d bought at check out. You watch him leaf through the pages, inspecting outfits and designs, muttering when he doesn't agree with them. It was endearing, watching him critique world famous fashion designers, like his opinion would hold and weight in a proper argument. 

200 quid was what the trip had cost you, spending way more than you had planned. Matty had paid for it with his parents' money that they sent to him every so often, wanting him to be able to live comfortably even if they were away. You felt sort of bad, offering to use your own cash, quickly being swatted away by an insistent Matty.

“I have to pay, seeing as I am a gentleman. Besides, you're going to be taking great care of me later, so-” you manage to cut him off with a stealth elbow in the ribs, sparing the poor cashier from one of his terribly inappropriate rants. 

—----------------------------------------------------

Home is comfortable, much unlike the harsh summer weather and the beating sun that waited for you outside. Unlocking the door, you've met with the soft hum of the air conditioner, the cool air kissing your skin. Matty lets out a relieved sigh as he finally sets down the bags, stretching his arms over his head. You catch a glimpse of his lower stomach, a small trail of hair traveling from his belly button and into the waistband of his pants, which were hung obscenely low on his hips. 

“Do you want to-” you're cut off by Matty’s lips on yours, one hand gripping onto the base of your neck, the other pulling you in by the waist. Despite being almost three inches taller, you manage to overpower him quickly, pressing him into the wall behind him. He gasps against your lips, his fingers digging into your hips as you grasp him by the hair, tugging him down to meet you. 

“Desperate, much?” you say condescending, one of your fingers trailing down the hollow of his throat, grazing the skin enough to leave a faint red mark. 

He loved seeing the aftermath of you on his body, and you’ve caught him admiring himself in the mirror more than once, running his fingertips over the bruises and scratches, reliving the moments that caused them. It's not like he left you bare, either, the complete opposite, actually. Your neck was full of hickeys in various colors, some more faded than others. 

He loved using his teeth, and had once left an incredibly obvious bite mark on the skin just above your collarbone, getting disgusted and borderline traumatized looks from both Ross and George. Adam never did mention i, but you caught him stealing glances at both of you, his tell tale ‘what the actual fuck did you do’ look on his face. 

“You’re one to talk, don’t think I didnt see how you looked at me back there.” he smirks against your lips, tongue swiping along your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. You use your body weight to hold him up against the wall, pressing a knee right between his legs, a move he loved to use on you, and watching you grind against him is his favorite sight in the whole world.

His hips buck against your lower half, his hard-on brushing up against your thigh. He groans at the slight friction, repeating the action until you stop him.  

“Please, fuck- please.” he breathes, eyeing the bag on the ground behind you with a look of pure lust on his face.

Your knees feel weak, your stomach flipping as he reaches out to touch your face, trailing his fingers down your jaw and onto your neck, lovingly pressing kisses all over your skin, almost as if to try and convince you of something.

Wordlessly, you grab him by the collar of his shirt, leading him down the long hallway and up the stairs, almost tripping. You near the bedroom, unable to take your hands off each other as he pathetically whimpers into your mouth, nails clawing at your back.

The door swings open and you push him forward until the back of his knees hit the bed, making him fall onto it. 

“Been thinking ‘bout this for a while, haven't you?” he nods slowly, chest heaving from the sheer force of your kiss, leaving him breathless.  

“You can’t imagine.” he answers, eyes looking up at you from his spot on the bed, wide and full of want. 

“So pretty.” you whisper to yourself, reaching down to push his shirt up, revealing that little bit of hair on his stomach, so incredibly sexy it made your head spin. 

“Take your shirt off for me, I'll be back.” you kiss him again, softly this time, not even looking at his reaction before turning around and disappearing through the door. Your legs carry you as fast as they can go, taking two steps at a time as you race downstairs, eyes settling on the hot pink paper bag left abandoned on the floor. 

Rifling through the pile of various clothes, underwear, gags, toys; really anything you could think of, your breath hitches as your fingers brush against cold resin. Of course it was made of resin, ridiculously expensive as well, typical Matty. You laugh to yourself, taking a close look at the toy in your hands.

It was pale pink, hyper realistic veins running down the sides of it, the actual strappy part a deep purple, almost black. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, almost forgetting one vital thing: the lube. 

The sight before you open the door again is one that should be chiseled into stone and hung up for thousands of years. Matty is on the bed, further up so that his head is resting on the metal bed frame up against the wall, it being more comfortable that way. His shirt is off, just like you had told him. 

One thing made you freeze. His hand was covering his lower half, palming his obvious hard on through his insanely tight jeans. It looked painful, well hidden by the filthy smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips, making your heart skip a beat. 

“Kept me waiting.'' His voice is low, raspy, and desperate, even if he tries to play it off. You move without thinking, watching his eyes flicker over to the toy in your hand, which you place onto the bed out of his reach. 

“Not my fault you can't go five seconds without touching yourself.” you shoot back, kneeling onto the soft mattress. 

“Sort of is, isn't it?” he sounds playful, almost giddy as you catch his lips in a kiss. 

“You were begging so nicely before, what happened?” you fake pout at him, putting on a slightly condescending tone as he rolls his eyes at you. 

“I caught my breath.” he says, hands settling on your hips as you straddle him properly, his aching cock grinding against the curve of your ass. It feels amazing, your ego swelling as you take him in, needy and wanting for you and you only. 

“Yeah?” 

“Might have to take it again.” 

You get what he’s playing at immediately, reaching up to wrap your hand around his throat. Matty lets out a choked gasp, eyes widening at the sensation. 

“Fuck-” he’s cut off by you pressing down harder, watching all the blood in his head rush down south. 

“What? Couldn't quite hear you, speak up.” you taunt, loving watching him struggle to answer you, all that came out being needy gasps and curses.

“Please-” his breath hitches when you reach down to skillfully unbutton his pants with one hand, silently thanking the gods above he had decided to forgo a belt today, peeling the jeans off of him. He lets out a choked moan as you grip him through his boxers, wishing he had worn a pair of women’s panties, knowing it would rile you up even more.  

 “What? Use your words, Matthew, tell me what you want.” you tease, ignoring his silent begging, only slightly letting go of his throat, scared he wasn't properly getting oxygen. 

“Touch me, please.” he manages to force out, tears of relief welling up in his eyes when you take him out of his boxers, stroking his cock lightly. 

“This all for me? All because of that toy? Filthy, filthy boy.” his mind blanks, ecstacy overtaking his body and mind, the only thing he could think of was how fucking lucky he was. The strap is only visible in the corner of your eye as you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, drinking in every little gasp. 

You dig your thumb into his slit, his hips arching off the bed and into your hand, spurts of precum leaking out of his tip. You smile at his reaction, one question still running through your mind. This was all so new, and you were riffing off of what you already knew he liked, trying to build up as much tension as possible. 

“Have you done this before?” he takes a second to answer, slowly nodding his head. You motion for him to elaborate. A pang of insecurity rushes through you at the thought of him doing this with someone else, another person seeing him like this. You push it all down, turning your full attention to Matty. 

“Only alone, trying some things out..” his voice is uncharacteristically small, eyes avoiding you as he stutters over the second part of his sentence, clearly a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh yeah? Did it feel good?” you encourage him, desperate to make him feel as comfortable as possible. He smirks, and you can basically see the memories flash behind his eyes. 

Alone, late at night. Curiosity striking, clothes hitting the floor of his old bedroom. A mess of lube and spit, fingers experimentally curling upwards and finally, finally hitting that perfect spot deep inside of him, making him moan into his pillow, trying to muffle the sound. 

But of course, Matty has to do and say something so utterly stupid, it makes your eyes hurt from rolling them. 

“It’ll feel so much better if you do it for me, darling. Treat me right and all, seeing as I am your girl-” you playfully hit his arm, effectively shutting him up. He wasn't fully wrong, but the way he worded it was purposefully supposed to make you cringe, your eyes screwing shut and hands going to cover your face in embarrassment. 

“Shut up, what is your damage?” you ask, glaring at him as he tries his best to stifle his giggles. It's infectious, and soon you start laughing as well, falling into his arms, losing it at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Can you take nothing seriously?” It's a rhetorical question, but he still answers.

 “Nothing.” he drags out the word, mocking you.

You take this opportunity to tug at his cock, wiping the smug grin directly from his face. It was satisfying, watching him go from cocky and borderline bratty, to a sweet, moldable putty in the palm of your hand, willing to do whatever you asked of him.

 “A-ah oh fuck, i’m not gonna- stop.” he gasps, trying to push you off. You fight back, pinning him down using your entire body, your fingertips ghosting over his cock. 

“Gotta get you ready to take me, don't want it to hurt, do you?” your voice drips with lust, relishing in the wanton sounds he lets out at your words. Matty looks at you, mouth slightly ajar as if trying to say something. You nod at him. 

“I can- I can show you. If you want. We both know how much you like to watch me.” he gestures to the camera sitting on the nightstand, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Go on.” you whisper, your voice cracking. 

He flips around, and you use this little bit of time to slip your own clothes off, leaving your shirt and panties on, settling onto the bed behind him.

His hands reach for the bottle of lube, blindly feeling around for it. You hand it to him with a sickly sweet smile, making his stomach flip as he spreads his legs, a performative moan leaving his lips as he uncaps it with his teeth, pouring the liquid onto his fingers.   

It's weird, seeing him in this position, facedown against the mattress, tugging his boxers down with his clean hand. He can feel your eyes on him, raking over his milky skin, watching him take a deep breath as the cool lube hits his skin. 

“You look pretty.” you hear him snigger into the pillow at the breathlessness of your voice.  “Right? Good genes, innit?” he says smugly, craning his head around to get a look at your annoyed expression.

“Oh fuck off.” you smack him on the arse, taking the piss out of his stupid comments. 

He gasps, and now it's your turn to be smug, grazing your nails over the skin you’d just hit 

“Seriously? That turned you on?” he nods, tracing his lube covered fingers over his hole, shivering a bit before pushing one in. 

A string of moans and curses spill from lips, panting as his back arches at the intrusion. You watch him with wide eyes, taking every minuscule twitch of his body as he curls them slightly, going even deeper. You commit everything to memory, wanting this moment to last forever, and you reach out to trail your hands down his sides, digging your slightly grown out nails into his hips, making him moan into the pillows.  

“Giving me a proper show then. Anything to get my attention, right?” you mumble, leaning over him as he fingers himself for you, groaning and twitching against the mattress, overcome with pleasure.

“It’s working isn't it?” he forces out, the feeling of your chest pressed to his back making his eyes roll back in his head, his tip leaking spurts of precum onto the sheets  

“Fuck, yeah, its working.” 

His fingers brush up against a certain spot inside of him and he quite literally shakes, arching and pushing down onto his digits, his body begging for more. You watch, entranced in every movement he makes, in a sort of daze. 

You could sense him gaining back a sense of confidence when he peers back at you, seeing your blissed out expression at the sight of him fucking himself open for you, moans and whimpers going straight to the growing heat in your core.

“Wanna fuck me? Make me moan for you?” he teases, moving his lube covered hand to his cock, tugging at himself as you pull him closer. The strap next to you burns a hole into your brain, and you reach for it, hand gliding over the resin. 

“Wanna take a pretty picture with that little camera of yours?” That was the final straw that made you scramble up, fumbling with the fastens of the toy, unbuckling them and slipping it over your underwear, the weight of it a bit strange. 

 “I’m going to make you eat those words.” you threaten, one of your hands threading through his hair, pulling his face up before dropping it back onto the pillows. He whimpers at the sharp pain radiating from his scalp, spreading all the way to his fingertips that clutch the sheets so tightly, his knuckles look pale white. 

“It's what I'm counting on, darling.” he winks, arching his back towards you, grinding his arse against your strap. This was really happening. Sucking in a deep breath, you steady yourself on your knees, taking the toy into your hand, circling his hole with it. A sigh of pleasure leaves his parted lips as he relaxes into the bed, arse up and face buried into the dark blue fabric of his pillow. 

The sound of the lube covering the strap is a bit awkward, and you both laugh lightheartedly, nervous and excited to do this with each other, to each other. He groans as you finally line up with his entrance, the tip teasing him as he bucks back onto it.  

“Want me to go slow?” you ask, slightly nervous, scared of doing something wrong or god forbid, hurting him in any way. 

“Fuck me slow, yeah?” His words drip with lust, raspy and deliberately drawn out. He notices your hesitation, and his hand reaches back to grab yours, rubbing reassuring circles into the skin of your palm.  

“Jesus, you make it sound so filthy.” His vulgar words were nothing new, his cocky manner only another tool to get you to lose it on him, never showing mercy. Just like he liked it. Rough, hard, fast, never ending pleasure until both of you were fully satisfied. 

“Stop being a tease and just fuck me.” he was now at the point of making demands, blatantly ignoring the imbalance of power between you. You tut at him, nails digging into the fat of his arse, making him wince in pain.

“Not in a place to be demanding things from me, are you now?” your tone is deliciously condescending, making his cock involuntarily twitch under him, begging for attention. 

“You want it just as much as me.” he breathes loudly, a feeble attempt at trying not to sound as desperate as he really was, not wanting to admit defeat. 

“Make me mess, fuck me dumb, I know you want to.” an animalistic groan rips itself from your throat as you push into him, feeling the smallest bit of resistance at first. 

Remembering his little reaction from earlier, you experimentally smack the side of his arse, right where its curve meets the top of his thigh, and he shudders beneath you, crying out in pleasure. You don't know what you're doing, but you do gain a flicker of confidence when he grinds down against the bed, mumbling into the pillow. Asking him to speak up, his face is now visible as he moans, hips pushing back onto the toy as you pull back out, leaving him feeling empty.

You snap your hips forward, a bit harsher this time, watching and listening for his reaction, wanting to make it feel as good as possible for him. He was trusting you with the most intimate part of him, giving up almost all control as his arms go slack under him, nothing holding his body up anymore. 

“Fuckk, that's so good.” he breathes as you set a delicate but even rhythm, speeding up a bit with every thrust as he slowly gets used to the sensation. It takes a few minutes of fucking him at an agonizing pace until you feel his whole body tense up, a choked moan spilling from his parted, spit covered lips. Your breath hitches at the sight of him drooling, eyes screwed shut in pure bliss. 

“OH FUCKK- right there right there right there jesus christ, fuck-” he curses, clawing around him, trying to find something to bring him back down to reality as your strap brushes up against his G-spot. There's a wet patch on the bed under him, precum covering the blue fabric of the sheets. 

“Sound so pretty, all for me.” you hit that same spot over and over as he pathetically cries out your name, begging for you to go faster. 

“Please, it's so good, so good, fuck me please oh FUCK.” you oblige, gripping onto his hips as you slam back into him, his back arching sharply as you pant, your cheeks a bright red. Your whole body is flushes crimson, your cunt clenching around nothing as you get off to the sounds and movements he makes, your witty words getting caught in the back of your throat

You're so incredibly turned on that everything else disappears around you, your only focus being a desperate Matty under you, writhing in pleasure as he experiences actual heaven, his whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat, making him glow in the dim light of the bedroom.

Sinful sounds fills the bedroom, reverberating off the walls making you feel dizzy, partially from the effort and partially from the boy in your bed, whimpering your name betweens strings of curses, begging you to just fuck him harder. 

Matty, though he hates it, is awfully predictable. He has cues that let you know when he’s close, his voice pitching up several octaves as you slam into him, never faltering. 

You take the opportunity to press your chest against the curve of his back, hard nipples rubbing against his skin through your thin shirt. Your voice is low, whispering lewd promises against his ear, occasionally nibbling at the skin, sucking a hickey into it. 

“Gonna cum for me? I can see you leaking all over the sheets, dirty boy” he cries at your words, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down his face, leaving small stains on the pillow. 

“Yesyesyes please don’t stop- so close.” he begs, every part of his body twitching and tensing, so close to the edge he could taste it. 

You don't know what possesses you. Maybe it was his comment from earlier, his tone playful and teasing, eyes dark with desire. 

“Wanna take a pretty picture with that little camera of yours?”

It's like a foreign force taking over your body. You still, ignoring Matty’s pleas for you to keep going, his hips bucking wildly onto the toy still deep inside of him.

“No- nonono please, i was so close, fuck.” you click your tongue at him, effectively shutting him up

He winces when you move, hand reaching for something on the nightstand, not even realizing what you were doing. The plastic is heavy in your hands, black lense staring back at you as you reposition yourself behind Matty, the tip of your strap teasing his hole.

He thinks you’ll continue as normal, that you'll give him what he’s been craving this entire time. All he wants to do is cum, mind so clouded with desire that he could barely speak properly

Your hands threads into his hair, his neck limp as you pull him up by it. Your fingers find the shutter, knowing you had to act fast to get the result you so desperately wanted.

Pulling his head further back so his whole face was visible, you position the camera in front of it, the sight of the lense making Matty’s heart skip a beat. 

Right as you take the picture, you violently snap your hips forward, thrusting into him at a brutal pace, making his face contort in ecstasy, mouth falling open, revealing a pink tongue between his lips.

The camera flash is disorienting for him, the shutter barely heard over his impossibly loud moans, the sounds making you feel weightless.

He lets out a high laugh as he fully gets what you’d just done, only proving his earlier point further. His little victory is interrupted by his impending orgasm, the combination of the pressure from your strap on his G-spot and the delicious friction of the sheets rubbing against his cock sending him into a lust driven frenzy. 

His moans are high pitched, almost feminine as he buries his face into his slack arms, trying to bite back his noises. You tell him to quit it, demanding to hear every single cry that leaves his lips.

“You’re such a brat, acting like I cant have you fucking purring under me in the blink of an eye.” you speak, an intense feeling of power and control taking your body as you slam into him, licking up the skin of his bare neck, making him shudder under your touch. 

“I promise i’ll be good- just please let me cum.” he’s a blubbering mess, tears rolling down his cheeks as you tug harshly on his hair, the pain only making it harder for him to hold off his orgasm.

“Please- I need it so bad- fuck, please.” 

“Oh, you need it, do you?” you taunt him, your fingers moving to shove their way into his mouth, pressing down on his wet, hot tongue. The whimper he lets out as you gag him makes your brain short circuit, your eyes are fixed on the way he grinds his hips to meet your frantic thrusts, desperate to get himself off.

“Go on then, cum all over our nice sheets. Make everything dirty, just like you are, aren't you darling?” the filthy words spill from your lips before you could even think, and Matty stills for a second before moaning around your fingers, bucking against the mattress. 

“So good, so fucking good- oh my god, fuck, feels so good-” his words are muffled by your fingers, and as much as you need to hear him, you let it slide, wanting your perfect boy to finally come undone. He cums with a scream, an actual, guttural scream of your name, convulsing under your touch as you reach around and grip his cock, working him through his orgasm. 

He gasps as ropes of cum paint the sheets, covering your hand. You slow down your thrusts, not wanting to rip him out of his dazed state just yet. He whimpers as you pull out, feeling strangely empty without you filling up every inch of him. His body is limp against the bed, chest heaving trying to take in as much oxygen as possible as he comes down from his high, slowly but surely. 

You yelp when a hand grips the side of your arm suddenly, pulling you down onto the bed next to him. Matty’s sweet smile makes your heart swell up with love as you make eye contact, his brown eyes drooped half shut in pleasure. 

“Fucking mint.” he breathes, giggling as you roll your eyes at his utterly unsexy reaction to you fucking his brains out. 

“Really?” 

His smile turns into a grin as he pulls you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against yours. You hand cups his cheeks, wiping aways what's left of his tears.

“I fucking love you, that was world altering, fuck me.”   

“I already did, remember?” the opportunity was right there, and you both erupt into a fit of laughter at your bad jokes, grinning widely at each other. Matty lets out a grossed-out groan when he accidently rolls into the wet patch he had left in the bed, crying at the feeling of the damp fabric against his bare legs.

But, in typical Matty fashion, he opts to just cope, too lazy and fucked out to do anything about it. You try to convince him to get up, shower, maybe do anything except roll around in his cum soaked sheets. He flat out refuses, gripping your waist so tightly you felt Matty-shaped bruises form on the skin. 

He forces you to lay with him, not letting you get up. 

“Did it hurt?” you ask tentatively, genuinely curious. He shakes his head, trying to describe the sensation. 

“A bit, but it felt really fucking great after about two seconds, so totally worth it.” he kisses you again, softer but still passionate, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down lightly. 

“Did you like it?” he asks, trailing a finger up and down your arm, scratching it comfortingly. 

All you can do is smile, the memory of what you felt making you giddy. 

“I felt powerful.” you confess, a faint blush spreading onto your already flushed cheeks. Might as well let it all out, right? 

“You like being powerful?” you nod your head, confirming the sneaking suspicion he’s had since that very first night on his living room sofa. 

“I like it when you hurt me.” you laugh, that information having been painfully obvious for a while now. 

“I know, darling, you make it so obvious.” he curses at you for quote un-quote ‘kink shaming’ him, immediately mentioning your little knack for photography. 

“What do you do with the pictures?” you’ve never told him what happens to the polaroids after they properly develop, stashed in your nightstand drawer. 

“I don't kiss and tell.” you snigger at his hurt reaction, now even more desperate to know what goes on in your mind when your finger presses down on the shutter, immortalizing Matty in a picture as small as the palm of your hand. 

“That does not work if I'm the one you kissed, I’m afraid.” you dismiss him with a shake of your head, watching the hope leave his face. He nags you further, offering all sorts of services to get you to confess to him.

“I’ll show you sometime.” his eyes light up, ready to make yet another filthy comment. You press a finger to his lips, shushing him like he was a misbehaved child, smirking at his reaction. 

“Only if you're good, though.” he nods his head so eagerly, you're afraid he might get whiplash as he shuffles closer to you, nuzzling his face into your shirt (well, his goal was clearly your tits, but you didn't need to know that.)

“I'll be so good for you, you’ll regret ever denying me.” you laugh, vowing to hold him to it.  

[magpiepills]

Escritorio

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Javier Pena x f reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: after you make a serious mistake at work, Javi decides to help you make it up to the team.

Warnings: SMUT! PIV, smoking Javi, fingering, oral, I can’t remember what else. PWP, you know the drill.

A word from the author: this is a repost! I can’t remember why I wrote this, and it’s not my best work, but I sure was horny over the idea of him smoking while he fingers reader.

It’s Saturday night, eleven PM. You're sitting and stewing in Steve’s desk chair, going over the disastrous day your team had just had. Steve had gone home hours ago, begging off with an excuse about his wife and kid but Javier had stayed to do paperwork and go over maps and statements, planning how to move forward from the complete intelligence disaster you caused. You sighed softly and slumped, tapping your pencil eraser against your lip, feeling it stick slightly to your fading chapstick. No amount of weak office coffee could make your day less of a chore.

As the newest member of the team, you were obligated to stay as long as the last person in the office did. It was some sort of hazing, apparently. Your senior co-worker, agent Javier Peña knew that, and he was happy to continue the tradition. He often worked late anyway since he had trouble sleeping. He figured he may as well accomplish something.

You had thought that the silence between you was comfortable, if not a bit tinged with annoyance on his part at having to scrap so much hard work. You didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with small talk and work was a sore subject, so you just tried to look busy. Now though, Javi looks across the desks at you and frowns, clicking his tongue.

“What’s the matter, baby? You sure had a lot to say earlier. Can’t run your mouth now? If you hadn't been so damn talkative with my CI, maybe they wouldn't have run off on us and maybe weeks of work wouldn't have been for nothing. Maybe you’d be home right now.”

You dropped your forehead into your palm, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew he was right. You’d gotten careless and tipped your hand, spooking a close associate of Escobar’s who’d been nearly ready to talk. You knew all that. Now you’re tired and cranky and this man is pushing your buttons.

“I’m sorry, Javi. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I’m going to fix it.”

You’re getting aggravated now at having to apologize again for something you’ve already apologized to him and Steve and your boss for already. Multiple times you’d been contrite and you genuinely were sorry to have cost your team valuable time and intel. Javi just couldn’t let it go, though. He couldn’t let you move forward until he felt you’d learned your lesson. He felt that it was his job to make sure you felt enough shame, you guessed. Shame had come and gone, though and now you’re ready to snap. Moments passed and he didn’t say anything else, and the room was quiet once again and you were grateful when his eyes left you and went back to his work. You really didn’t want to argue with someone who had been on the job a lot longer than you. Someone you had to see day in and day out. Someone you might harbor just the tiniest crush on. Even If he pissed you off.

The room was warm and still, if not for the yellow haze and hum of the fluorescent lights you could have fallen asleep, instead you raised your head when you heard Javier’s chair groan and creak as he stood and came to lean against Steve’s desk. He gives you a look that borders on regret and drags you to your feet, pulling you close to him. You gasp at the sudden proximity. Your mind is racing and you can’t find the words or make your limbs move to protest.

All you manage is an exasperated “Javi? What are you d-” before his hands begin roaming your body and he lowers his voice as he rubs his nose against your temple. You can smell the cigarettes and mint of his breath as he speaks softly

“I spent a lot of nights in this office, working my ass off chasing down leads. Time I could have used a lot better. Now I think you owe me. I think you should make it worth it to me.”

Your chest is heaving and flushed at how close he is, how you can feel his mustache on your face and the heat of his hands makes you feel like you’re melting. You feel yourself clench involuntarily as your pussy throbs with need, but you’re incensed at his suggestion that you owe anything to him personally.

“I don’t owe you anything, Javi. I’ve been chewed out. Everyone is pissed at me. I’ve been adequately shamed, alright?”

It didn’t seem like he was listening to you at all, though, he’s got his own ideas of retribution.

Warm, soft kisses are being pressed along your neck, up your cheek and to the corner of your mouth. Wanting him is so easy, and for a moment you let yourself imagine something more. Something soft and domestic, something totally disconnected from your current reality, the reality that abruptly slams you back into the moment.

“Javi!” Your shout only comes out as a gasp as he moves you. He is gentle but firm as he turns you and presses his wide palm between your shoulder blades to bend you over his desk, making you jolt with a firm slap on the ass.

“You’ve done something wrong and you’ve got to be punished. You don’t get to come until you’re on my cock, and you don’t get my cock until you’ve learned your lesson. Do you understand?”

You’re loathe to give him the satisfaction, but your body is responding to your obnoxiously, astoundingly attractive asshole partner whether you like it or not. A pathetic moan escapes you as you squirm under the weight of his hand. If you’re being honest with yourself, you do like it. Maybe you’d have quit trying so hard at your job months ago if you knew that making his life harder would land you ass up on his desk with your panties soaked. Maybe the day could be salvaged after all.

While Javi has you bent over the desk, he’s just leaned back in his chair, keeping your legs spread with his knees, landing a few more heavy smacks to your ass over your skirt. He smooths his hands over the fabric after each swat, squeezing and soothing the sting. When he has had enough, he tugs your skirt up to your hips and slips his middle and index finger under the damp gusset of your underwear and pulls them aside, exposing your cunt. Javi takes his time lavishing attention on your pussy.

He spreads your slick all over your folds, increasing pressure when he slides his thumb over your clit. You writhe with pleasure, desperate for more of his touch, but determined not to beg. This earns you another firm, wet smack to your already reddened cheek.

“Stay still.” Javi’s voice is firm but passive. “You’ll take what I give you until you can behave.”

His hand returns to your pussy and he uses both thumbs to slide against your clit, rolling it between them, making you cry out, but you’re careful to stay still this time. Not letting you get too close, he abandons your clit and slips one thumb and then the other into your clenching hole. He thrusts shallow and slow, gently stretching you open, watching as you drip just for him. He keeps his pace and when you’re whimpering and clenching hard, he pulls his hands away.

“Stand up.”

You groaned at the loss, making him smirk. Always so cocky. If he was anyone else right now, you’d have smacked him and ran. But he’s not anyone, he’s Javi, so you stand and turn to face him, eager to find out what will happen next, but not wanting to show it.

“Take this off. Slowly.” He tugs at the sleeve of your emerald green chiffon blouse and doesn’t try to hide how his glassy eyes wander hungrily over your body as you obey.

You unbutton your blouse and let it fall behind you, then unzip your skirt, pushing it over your hips and stepping out of it with a click of your heels. You lift your foot to pull off one of the pumps- nothing special, modest height and black, a good office shoe, but Javier stopped you.

“Leave them on. I like them.”

His admission was endearing in a way. You stood before him, in your work heels, your basic black bra, and your ruined black panties that didn’t match the bra but you were glad that they were at least the same color. You cursed yourself for being in this position. Nearly naked at work with your coworker, letting him touch you, letting him have his way, doing what he told you, and then regretting that you didn’t wear a prettier lingerie set to work just in case your devastatingly beautiful coworker decided today was the day he would sweep you off your feet? Madness.

“Javi, you could have asked me to dinner. That’s what gentlemen usually do when they want to fuck someone.”

His breath warmed your neck before he kissed you there.

“Guess I’m not a gentleman.”

Javier lit a cigarette, and tilted his head as he took a long, contemplative drag. You waited for him to say anything, but he just looked you over.

“Didn’t say you could stop, cariño. The rest- off.”

It was becoming hard to differentiate between your feelings of annoyance, anger, and lust. You wanted to smack him, to scream at him, and to climb into his lap to fuck yourself on his cock until you were both spent and breathless. You could only imagine what it was like, because while you unclasped your bra and slipped your panties off, he was fully dressed in jeans and a soft white shirt unbuttoned down his chest and exposing only his strong neck and a bit of his impossibly broad and golden shoulders. Javier Pena was a Texan Adonis, with his wide shoulders, slim waist and hips, a head of thick, curly, dark hair, and a curved nose that drove you wild. You could easily imagine him cast in bronze or chiseled from marble, brooding for all eternity.

He ate lunch at his desk some days and you envied whatever fruit he mindlessly devoured, lips, tongue, and teeth sinking into it while the tip of his nose got sticky with sweet juice. He really pissed you off. You pissed yourself off when you realized that you were now standing naked between his spread knees and his desk waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

“Up on the desk for me, querida. Lean back.”

There was no point in fighting it now, you’re naked at work, you’ve had your co-workers hands on your pussy. One leg and then the other were lifted until both your knees were in the air. Javi held your legs open with one big hand on your thigh and the other, with a cigarette between two long fingers held the other gently at the knee. You knew in no time at all the slick that had been gathering would trickle down onto his desk.

No eye contact has been made, no agreements, no declarations of love or admiration, just a series of instructions that you followed without question. He was so leisurely in the way he gazes you you, his eyes roaming over your ankles, knees, thighs, hips, stomach, tits and arms. He tilted his head and released a cloud of smoke over you.

“Do it, Javi. Whatever you’re waiting for, I’m not going to beg you, so just do it. I want to get home.”

He scoffed at that, raised his thick eyebrows in amusement.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be so demanding. Maybe it’s time you learned some patience. It’ll do you good.”

Your head dropped back to the desk with a quiet thud, exasperated and nearly out of energy to pretend you hadn’t wanted to fuck Javier since the day you first saw him. You’d spotted him across from across the street in tight jeans and a tighter black shirt that hugged his biceps, bounding up the stairs outside the embassy two at a time in a macho display that made you roll your eyes and squeeze your thighs together simultaneously. There may as well be a flashing pink neon sign floating above his head that says SEX GOD.

When your resolve broke, you were rewarded with a hot mouth to your cunt. Slow, methodical licks that teased your clit, broad stripes that spread your slick and his saliva over your folds, open mouthed kisses that sucked your folds between his lips, tender kisses to your puffy labia, and finally, his lips covering your clit to suck it and circle it with his tongue.

Your hips jerked and your knees wanted to close around his head, but he kept you open with his strong hands. You felt the hand on your thigh squeeze your soft flesh before sliding down and resting right at the crease between your leg and your pussy for a moment before you felt him at your entrance. First one finger pushed inside, then another, and when combined with the constant movement over your clit, your vision blurred. You barreled toward your orgasm, hungry for relief, and in a flash it was snatched away. His fingers slipped from your tight cunt and came down to smack twice against your cheek.

By the time your eyes refocused, Javier was standing, leaning over you to crush his cigarette into the ashtray by your head. It was all you could do not to cry.

“What are you doing? Why’d you stop?” You asked weakly.

Javi shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re never going to learn, are you? You’re a stubborn girl, you know that?”

A tear leaked from the corner of your eye and disappeared into your hair.

What happened next was an affront to feminism and you’d deny it until the day you died.

“Please, Javi. I’m sorry. You’re right. I was reckless and impatient and I should have asked for your help. Javi, please!”

It was exactly what he was waiting for.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

The condescension had disappeared from his voice and he sounded gentler now, like he was nearly as desperate as you were. It made it easier to beg.

“Fuck me Javi. Now. Please!”

You raised into your elbows and watched as he palmed his cock through his jeans, the thick roll of him unmistakable as it reached across his left hip.

“I think you’ve earned it. You want to come on my cock now? Think you can handle it?”

Thick fingers worked his belt open, followed by the button and zipper, and when his cock was freed, you couldn’t help the way our jaw dropped to your chest.

Javier Peña’s cock was glorious. Thick and long, tan, with a vein along one side that ended just below his smooth foreskin, pulled taut by his throbbing erection, an opalescent bead of precum spilled down over the head.

The sight of him stroking himself before you was at once heavenly and pornographic. It made you want to take up oils and pastels and fill canvases with devoted studies of his turgid member.

“Fuck, Javi. Let me have it, please. Need it.”

Your eyelids feel heavy, your mouth watering at the sight of him. He had reduced you to a simpering mess, and he loved it. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a teasing half smile at the sight of you, so needy for him.

Your folds were slick, swollen, and sensitive. You whined when he slid his heavy cock through them, rubbing over your clit.

“This what you need? Hm? Are you going to come like this, or are you ready to take me now?”

He was teasing, but his voice had a faint waver of desire, telling of his own need. Before you could answer, he was inside you, the thick tip of him stretching you, stilling there for a moment before he worked the rest of his length into the tight grasp of your cunt. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with firm strokes.

“Fuck- so fucking tight, taking me so well.”

Javi moved your ankles to his shoulders and kissed your ankle, it was the most tender he’s been since this little game of his started. The first crack. One rough hand found its way to your breast, squeezing your nipple between two fingers. The sensation of his calloused hand on your smooth skin pushed you closer to your release. You were teetering on the edge, waiting for him to either pull you back or let you go over. You didn’t care which anymore. Everything else was meaningless with Javier inside you.

You bucked your hips up, searching for friction against your clit, Javi’s hand left your tit, trailing it down your stomach, over your mound to rest his palm while his thumb traced circles around your bundle of nerves.

“You look so beautiful, all full of cock.”

Words failed you. You looked at him, eyes glazed and half lidded, only able to moan.

“I like you like this. You can’t be a smart ass. I should have fucked you months ago. Be good for both of us.”

His voice was becoming ragged, his own release begging to be found inside your walls. “Come on, cariño. Come on my cock. Let me feel you. I know you’re close. Come for me.”

His command was the last push you needed. Your orgasm washed over you, rippling out from your core, making you whimper for him. The rhythmic squeeze of your pussy, your blissed out face, your bouncing tits, everything he had been dreaming of since he had first seen you all worked together to make Javi come hard deep in your pussy, pulsing his spend against your cervix. He groaned and held your hips tight against him, utterly wrecked as he came down, eyes bleary and jaw slack.

He eased out of you with a groan, and watched as his cum slowly trickled down the curve of your ass. Neither of you spoke, you laid across his desk, among the crumpled papers and the spilled pencil cup, and he stood holding your legs, gently rubbing up and down your calf, catching your breath and looking at how you’d ruined each other.

When you had the wherewithal to get up and straighten yourself back up, Javi passed you his handkerchief. It would have been chivalrous if you weren’t wiping his cum from your thighs.

He watched you redress as he tucked himself back into his jeans, only bothering to fasten three buttons, then lit a cigarette, offering it to you first. You took it, avoiding his gaze, not knowing what to say to him now. You sat on the desk and inhaled the bitter smoke, then blew it away. You looked down at the glowing end of the cigarette, contemplating the almost certain end of your career when you felt a warm hand on your thigh.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home, it’s late.”

You nodded, and slung your purse over your shoulder, and as you walked out the door, Javi spoke again.

“Don’t worry about the CI. It’s not a big deal, happens to everybody. We’ll get the next one.”

[sunkissed-zegras]

thigh riding with Paige... 🤭

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | paige is ignoring you while she locks in while playing fortnite with kk, but you needed her attention (and she hates it when you're needy)

─ word count | 1.1k (this was supposed to be a blurb bruh)

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! kinda mean paige, thigh riding (who woulda guessed?), nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous @plushkhiii @ilovepaigebueckerss @ajcuteee @vi0lentb3rry @paigeszn @brynsreads @delicateray

"PAIGE," YOU WHINED as she ignored you, her eyes plastered on her computer screen. You rolled your eyes as you sighed, collapsing back on the bed as your girlfriend continued playing Fortnite.

Her headset was on and her glasses were set on the bridge of her nose, her fingers clicking on the keyboard as she played. You were needy and dramatic, sure but it was for good reason, you hadn't seen Paige since the morning and you missed her. Yet right now, it seemed like playing her stupid game meant more to her than her girlfriend.

You wanted her attention but you didn't know how you were gonna get it. As you lay there, feeling neglected, you weighed your options. Interrupting her game would not go over well, but letting your feelings just sit there wouldn't help either.

"Dude they're following us, for sure." Paige mumbled into the headset as she groaned out loud. "I fucking told you, didn't I? I told you to leave it-"

Sighing once more, you sat up and watched her for a moment. The concentration etched on her face was almost endearing, but it also made you feel a bit left out. You wondered if she even realized how much time had passed since she last acknowledged your presence in the room.

An idea popped in your head as a smirk began forming on your lips. You walked up to her quietly, and put a hand on her shoulder as she looked up to see you. "Not right now, baby. Hold on,"

Hold on? Your jaw slightly dropped as you glared at your girlfriend. You couldn't believe Paige ─ her hot and very needy girlfriend was standing right next to her and she wanted her to hold on?

Gathering your courage, you spoke up again, your voice tinged with a hint of irritation. "Paige, seriously," you said, your tone firm. "I've been waiting for you all day, and all I want is a little bit of your time. Is it really too much to ask for?"

"KK, look out behind you!" Paige shouted into the headset, making you audibly groan before Paige finally glanced up at you again, putting a hand over her mic. "What? Why are you giving me attitude for, can't you wait for like, 5 minutes?"

You knew you were being overly dramatic and you knew that Paige hated when you'd give her attitude, especially for something small like this. But you finally had her attention and you were not gonna let it go now.

You met her gaze with a raised eyebrow, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, sorry to inconvenience you with my presence," you quipped, your voice laced with irritation. "I guess I'll just go find someone who actually wants to spend time with me."

Paige's eyes narrowed at your remark, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face. "Really? You're seriously going to pull that card over a stupid game?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, crossing your arms over your chest. "Why not?" you replied, a smug smirk playing on your lips. "It's not like you've paid any attention to me since you started playing anyway."

She sighed as she heard KK talk, "Yeah, I'm still here. Give me two seconds," she spoke as before she muted herself.

Two seconds, you gotta be kidding me. But before you could scoff or roll your eyes dramatically, Paige grabbed your arm and pulled you into her lap roughly. You stumbled as Paige pulled you into her lap, caught off guard by her sudden movement.

"Hey, what are you doing?" you protested, your voice tinged with annoyance as you struggled to regain your balance.

Paige ignored your protest, her grip firm as she held you close to her. "Fucking relax," she mumbled. "You're acting like a bitch in heat right now, you know that, right?"

You rolled your eyes but you couldn't help but feel yourself begin to get warm. Paige kept her gaze on you and as she pulled you off her lap for a second and gestured to your shorts before she unmuted herself. You stood there, almost shocked for a good two seconds before Paige sent you a look before you did as she told you.

You couldn't believe it took Paige a minute to win you back but you weren't complaining, you needed her. She stuck out her knee and you knew what to do ─ you straddled it as Paige kept her eyes locked on the screen.

"Yeah, you got 'em?" Paige spoke lowly as she felt your dampness hit her bare thigh, feeling a shiver go down her spine. Her cold knee sent a shiver down your spine as you bit your bottom lip.

You let a small whimper before Paige began rocking her knee, causing a full-blown moan to escape your lips. Paige sent you a warning glare as your eyes widen, your hand clasping over your hands.

"What was what noise?" Paige scoffed as she kept her gaze on the screen. "I didn't hear anything," she forced out a laugh as she kept rocking her knee, your cunt gliding against it.

You began to move alongside her knee, your head falling back as you gripped her shoulders. You felt pathetic, riding her thigh like a bitch in heat (in Paige's words) but it felt too good to stop. Your hips movements began more sporadic as Paige continued rocking her knee, muffled whimpers coming out of your lips.

Paige could tell that you were close so she put one of her hands on your hips, guiding you harder on her knee. Your eyes rolled on the back of your head as you let out a moan, feeling the knot in your stomach snap as you came undone on her thigh.

Your body felt like jelly as you collapsed on her chest, her hand moving up to the keyboard as she kept playing. A few minutes pass and you heard KK scream from her headset, glancing at the screen. She got it, she and KK had won the Victory Royale.

As the adrenaline from the game subsided, you nestled into Paige's chest, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the earlier tension, being close to Paige like this was all you really wanted.

"Yup, I gotta go, KK. Bro, I'll- yeah, yeah. I got it, I heard you the first time. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow morning." She hung up the call quickly as she pulled off her headset, her hands finally beginning to caress your back.

Paige looked down at you, a soft smile on her lips. "I'm sorry for ignoring you, pretty."

You glanced up at her with a small smile. "It's okay, you made it up."

Paige's soft smile formed into a cocky smirk as she shrugged. "Yeah and I did it with no fingers, huh?"

"None, cus you're just like that," you mumbled as she laughed softly, pulling you closer.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A song of Ice & Shadow

Part 2

You can read part one here.

Summary: To Y/n's dismay, the Illyrians keep coming to their home, and despite her initial reluctance to engage in war talks, she becomes entangled in the political world of the fae. This ends with her worst nightmare becoming a reality.

Word count: 2.9K

Y/n paced around the living room, holding a scientific book amidst a clutter of research papers scattered about. Deeply immersed in her work, she was oblivious to the initial knocks at the door. Eventually, the persistent knocking caught her attention, prompting her to reluctantly abandon her studies.Upon opening the door, however, she found no one present “Are you kidding me?” she exhaled, as she went back to the living room. Just as she got back to reading, Cassian’s voice interrupted her concentration “Hello, y/n. Nice to see you again”.

“For fuck’s sake” she instinctively threw the book in his direction, a reflex action to the sudden intrusion, which he effortlessly evaded. Cassian’s amusement at the gesture was evident as he remarked “A book, really?”.

“Well, when someone is startled by an unexpected visitor, instinct tends to take over” she retorted, her tone a mixture of irritation and explanation.

“I did knock” he reminded, to which she replied “and I did open the door”.

“Wait, you didn’t know I was cloaked?”.

“How would I know? Do I look like some fae expert to you?”.

“Clearly not”.

“Do you enjoy pissing people off?” she asked with a serious tone.

“Sometimes” he replied, his tone tinged with smugness.

“Get a new hobby. People have more important things to do”.

“We’re trying to save everyone, so I’d say that is important”.

“Whatever! I’m not dealing with you. Talk to Nesta. Do you know where her room is or do I have to guide you?”.

“I’ll do just fine on my own”.

“Great, then off you go” she pushed him out of the living room and closed the door.

—

“You wouldn’t believe who I just met at the Bakery, Nes-” Y/n began speaking as she entered the house, unaware of the company they had. Her smile faded when she noticed the two Illyrian males, replaced by a cold, stern expression.“to what do we owe this displeasure?” she inquired, crossing her arms.

Cassian's response mirrored her sentiment, expressing his own reluctance to be there. Before any further exchange could unfold, Azriel interjected with a low, cold voice, revealing the reason for their visit “We received word from the queens”.

“They’ve been sent here to gather information about the house for the queens. They want to know where everything is, in the smallest details” Nesta explained.

Y/n directed her question at her sister “And you believe providing all this information is a good idea?”.

Azriel interjected, 'It's the only way to secure their cooperation”, Nesta nodded.

Y/n stole a glance at the male before returning her gaze on her sister “you do know this puts us in real danger?”.

"Nothing will happen to you or your sisters. Cassian and I will keep watch on the house”.

Despite assurances from Azriel about their safety, Y/n remained unconvinced, her concern evident in her demeanor. Y/n seemed to want to say something but decided against it. As she turned to leave, she was halted by Azriel's words “Feyre expects you to be here tomorrow”. After a brief pause, Y/n tilted her head to the side “Tell her to lower her expectations” she replied before walking out.

—

“Perhaps you should attend, even if just for a little while” Nesta suggested.

“Why? Are two sisters not enough? I don’t wish to be involved in human-fae relations” Y/n clarified.

“I know. I hate this as much as you do, but Feyre is now one of them, so do it for her” Nesta urged.

“Not out of her own free will…I- I don’t know, I’ll think about it” she sighed.

“Not to pressure you or anything but you do know, they’ll be here in a couple of hours” Nesta reminded.

“I know” she shrugged.

“Where is she? They’re gonna be here any minute now” Feyre scanned the room anxiously, looking for Y/n.

“I don’t know. She said she’ll think about it” Nesta told her.

“Think about it? She does realize that this is important, not one of her games” Feyre’s frustration became evident.

“Do you want me to send Az or Cassian to fetch her?” Rhys offered.

“No, that would only make things worse” Feyre dismissed the suggestion.

Dressed in a midnight blue tulle gown that revealed her back and arms, her skin so pale one would think she’s frozen. The fabric flowed around her body like a cloud, complementing her features. She emanated an aura of grace and elegance that would captivate any male who laid eyes on her. Y/n walked into the room, head held high. Her presence seemed to illuminate the room, and much to Azriel’s dismay, his eyes were drawn to her. Something stirred inside of him, something unfamiliar; even his shadows peaked from behind him to study her. He was betrayed by a momentary lapse in composure before pushing his thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

“She’d fit right in at the Night Court” Rhys whispered to Feyre.

“Is that why it took you so long?” Feyre asked her sister.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Y/n tried to hide her smile.

Just as Cassian was about to comment, the queens appeared.

Rhys and Feyre started the conversation with the queens, introducing everyone present in the room. Elain curtseyed, while Nesta and Y/n stayed straight-backed with their heads high. They wasted no time and got to the reason why they were there; to discuss the war looming on their doorstep. -”This territory is a slip of land compared to the vastness of the continent. It is not in our interests to defend it. It would be a waste of resources” one of the queens said, to which Rhys replied “surely the loss of even one innocent life would be abhorrent”.

“Yes. to lose one life is always a horror. But war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it”.

“And here I thought fae kind was the worst. It seems there’s even worse. You’re shameless. As queens, you have a responsibility towards your people. You’re supposed to protect them, all of them. The war hasn’t even started and you’re already doing a bad job of it” Y/n blurted.

“Excuse me?” the queen was taken aback, but so was everyone sitting there.

“Y/n!” Feyre warned.

“What? Is it not your duty to defend your people?” Y/n didn’t back down.

“What my sister is trying to say is that there are good people here” Feyre spoke, before things escalated.

The queens suggested that the fae defend this little territory, but there were counter arguments to that, until the queens mentioned that it was their job since the threat is caused by their own kind and their blood should be the one to spill, to which Y/n didn’t disagree. But then the queens continued to be insensitive, stubborn, selfish creatures, refusing to listen to reason. This made Y/n feel rage; knowing her temper, she excused herself before she screwed up whatever chance of peace they had. “Where do you think you are going?” one of the queens asked.

“Away from here. I am afraid if I stayed, I’d hurt your ego and you’d leave without considering peace, so I am removing myself, respectfully” she bowed mockingly, and a soft smile graced Azriel’s face. 

—

Satisfied with the research she had done, Y/n was able to take a day to relax when a knock interrupted her solitude. She waited a few minutes before reaching the door, silently hoping that someone else would answer it for once “You’d think with many people living in this house, someone else would get the door for once” she sighed as she opened the door, only to find no one there “Ah, I suppose you’re glamoured again. The servants are here today and Nesta isn’t, so unfortunately, we have to go to a more private place. Follow me” she muttered to herself, pausing briefly before shutting the door and retreating upstairs to her room, closing the door behind her “what can I help with today, general?” she turned around to face Cassian, whom by now his cloaking would’ve vanished, but she was met with the other illyrian. Taken aback, she took a step back “you’re not the general”.

“No, I’m not. Nice to see you again” Azriel hid a chuckle.

“I’m sure” Y/n managed to force a polite smile, unaware she was holding her breath.

Noticing her sudden reaction at the sight of him, Azriel inquired “Are you alright?”.

“I’m fine. So, what can I do for you?” She wasted no time asking, not wanting to be distracted by those beautiful hazel eyes.

“I’m here to check if you’ve received a response from the queens”.

“Aren’t you the court’s spymaster? Wouldn’t you know if we had received a letter?” Y/n questioned.

“My spies are positioned in courts, not among mere humans. Besides, I didn’t think you’d appreciate being spied upon. But, I do have other methods to obtain information”.

“Like torture?” she crossed her arms.

“That too”.

“Are you threatening me?” she took a step towards him, but he stood his ground.

“I don’t know how you came to that conclusion. I simply answered your question. Violence is not always the solution” he replied, frustration evident in his tone.

“But it’s often the most effective, wouldn’t you agree?” she smirked, meeting his gaze as his shadows appeared behind her.

“It depends” he held her gaze. For a moment they stood in silence before she finally spoke “to answer your question, no, they did not send word back. I suppose that concludes our meeting”.

“Are you kicking me out” he snorted.

“No, I’m simply stating the fact that you’ve gotten what you came here for, hence, there’s nothing left for you here anymore, or am I mistaken?” she shrugged.

He contemplated for a moment “no, you are absolutely right. I’ll be on my way. Have a nice day” he said, striding towards the window.

“What-? You’re leaving through the window?” she was taken by surprise.

“I have wings, it’s faster” he explained.

“Right, then. Goodbye” she muttered to herself as he left, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding “What the hell was that?” she thought to herself.

The next time they came to meet with the queens, Azriel surveyed the house, but Y/n was nowhere to be seen “your sister won’t be joining us?” he asked Elain.

“No, she went to her other home. Something happened at work” Elain replied.

“And even if she were here, she wouldn’t want to see those self-absorbed queens” Nesta added.

“Oh, I see” Azriel nodded, unsure if he was disappointed or relieved she wasn’t there.

The meeting did not go as well as they had hoped, but it was not a complete disaster either. Rhys offered Nesta and Elain to come live with them in Velaris, but Elain refused, as she was engaged to a fae-hating prick. So, Rhys sent his soldiers to look after them, with one waiting in the room they frequented everyday at noon and midnight in case they changed their minds.

—

Elain and Azriel were talking, when Y/n entered the living room. By now, she had grown somewhat accustomed to the presence of fae in their house, but she still resented it, especially now with fae soldiers guarding them. When Y/n returned, Nesta informed her of everything that happened while she was gone, which naturally annoyed her.

“You’re back” that was her way of greeting Azriel.

“I could say the same to you” he replied, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion. Noticing her expression, Azriel proceeded “you were missed at the meeting with the queens”.

“I doubt ‘missed’ is the word anyone would use, but I’m actually glad I wasn’t there. I don’t think I would’ve been able to hold back. Why are you here, spymaster?” she asked, swallowing hard.

“Y/n” Elain interjected at her sister’s ‘rudeness’.

“Same reason as last time” he answered.

“Did you not get the information yet?” Y/n avoided meeting his eyes.

“I did-”.

“We were having a civil conversation. You should try it some time” Elain muttered.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll stick to my ‘uncivil’ ways” Y/n said, ignoring Azriel once again as she walked out of the room.

“Forgive my sister. She can be rude sometimes, not that she notices often. But she has a kind heart, I promise” Elain tried to defend her sister’s actions.

“Don’t worry about it” he gave Elain a soft smile.

—

The next time Y/n was in the same room as Azriel was when they were face to face with the king of Hybern. She and her sisters were dragged and forced to kneel before the king. Nesta and Elain were in their nightgowns, while Y/n was in a teal dress. Her clothes were torn and covered in blood. Bruises painted her skin in shades of blue and purple, her lips swollen and cut, which oozed blood, same with the cut on her forehead. Her hair tousled, strands escaping from a once-neat bun. Despite her injuries, she stood tall, her posture defiant and unyielding, with a determined glint in her eyes; her spirit remained unbroken. She did not let them take her or her sisters without a fight, one where she fought with all her might until she couldn’t anymore. 

Seeing Feyre and her companions, blood drained from Azriel’s face as he bled all over the floor, with an arrow penetrating his chest, her heart ached and she knew the worst was yet to come. They had failed. Feyre gave her an apologetic look, Rhys held Feyre’s hand in a comforting effort, while Cassian’s eyes were on Nesta and Azriel trying but failing to lift his head as Mor held him. Y/n noticed two other males present, from their physical description, she speculated who they were; the one who held Feyre captive and his friend; Tamlin and Lucien.

Feyre threatened the king, but he warned her to be careful, as he held her sisters’ lives in his hands. He was discussing what he’d do to the sisters with the mortal queens, Feyre and the others tried fighting him but his power was too strong, and with the cauldron he was undefeatable. They had all exhausted their powers and if they tried one more thing, Azriel was going to die, with all that poison coursing through his veins. 

As Elain was dragged towards the cauldron, Y/n broke loose from the men that held her, quickly grabbing the sword from one of their sides, lunging it at the one holding Elain, who fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Before Y/n could reach her sister, the king struck her with his powers, sending her flying across the room “Ah, we have a spirited one here. Throw this one in last.. I want her to watch it all” the king gave his orders.

That blow broke some of Y/n’s bones, but even as she winced in pain she managed to sit up. “NO-” but it was too late, he had given the orders and Elain was thrown into the cauldron, her screams echoing in the room. Then there was silence, and never has Y/n hated silence as she did that moment. She wished for any sound, any cry, scream from her sister, but nothing, she was met with nothing but complete silence. A moment later, Elain was dumped out of the cauldron, alive. She was alive, but her ears, her ears were different, they were pointed, she was fae now. 

A tear slipped down Y/n’s face as Nesta was about to be thrown in, knowing there was nothing she or anyone could do about it. Nesta fought all the way, until her head was shoved underwater. Silence fell again, before the cauldron spat her out. Like Elain, she had changed, but unlike Elain, she was full of rage. She walked over to Elain and pushed Lucien away, holding her as he claimed she was his mate. 

“Bring the spirited one, let’s see if she’ll survive… My money is on you” he told Y/n.

“I will kill you, I promise you that” she threatened while being dragged. She tried fighting the men off, but with many of her bones broken, there was only so much she could do. Stil,l she did not make it easy for them to shove her in. The cauldron bubbled but went still after a moment. Nothing could be seen or heard. A worried look took over Feyre’s face.

“I guess she wasn’t strong-willed after all” the king stated. Just seconds later, Y/n emerged from the water and grabbed the edge as she climbed out of the cauldron. She fell to her knees from all the pain and glared at the king.

Suddenly, Feyre was begging the king to break her bond with Rhys and let them all go. The king agreed and both were on the floor screaming from pain. When the king was done, Mor grabbed the sisters and Rhys grabbed Cassian and Azriel and winnowed out.

The males arrived at the Town House, while the females were dropped off at the House of Wind. They would all need time to heal, physically and mentally.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever

[cornerdreams-txt]

hiiii so i was talking with a friend about the consequences of q!fit being in. a fucking pit. with dead bodies. for weeks. and we've agreed that, you know, being a 2b2t veteran and a major historian, fit has gone through a lot, that honestly? the worst part just might be the isolation aspect.

on 2b2t, even if it was a fight, or even if he had to duck into cover and hide, there was people. there was other people. fit would see others, he wasn't ever truly, fully alone. but here? in this pit? the only soul is himself. everyone else is beyond his reach. so when he finally, finally gets back, gets to go home, he's... at a loss. everything he'd grown used to is no longer normal to him. it's as foreign and strange as it once was when he first arrived on the island. sleeping on a bed. seeing people. being touched.

pac is unbearably kind to him, when the pieces finally fall into place, and fit's sudden, severe aversion to touch turns out to be touch starvation, and isolation trauma, no matter how hard fit tries to pretend its fine.

after some serious consideration, pac decides a good way to help fit readjust will be not to tell him that he's safe, but to show him.

also this got really long so there's more under the cut! i'm just putting the cut there to shorten the visible length of this post for the sake of scrollers lol

at first, he listens. watches. fit never turns his back on him, no matter what. he's always within fit's line of sight. so, he takes initiative. he turns his back to fit, on purpose. including when they sleep in the same bed - pac will stretch wide and long, then curl up on his side, back to fit, and let himself doze off there, all too aware of fit's eyes burning into the backs of his shoulder.

...fit always keeps at least one hand empty, or filled with a weapon when he's around other people. so, pac happily busies his hands with trinkets and useless items - blocks and books and signs and food and tools and never potions fit wouldn't be able to immediately identify - until fit stops watching pac's hands so warily.

fit doesn't touch him. so pac touches him, slowly, cautiously. absently reaches out to dust off his clothes for him, grabs his hand to give it a little squeeze, blows him a playful kiss if he's feeling extra sappy or teasing, shows him with gentle hands that it's okay. pac isn't going to hurt him.

and he keeps doing it, over and over, making himself vulnerable, allowing himself to appear defenseless and weak in fit's eyes, even when it makes his own anxiety tick and claw at him, because he knows fit won't hurt him. fit might be scared and withdrawn and back, in some ways, to how he used to be, but it's still his fit. he's still safe with him around.

and fit, well. if it weren't for it being pac, he'd call it stupiditiy. he'd call it suicidality to be so open, so vulnerable around someone else like that. especially someone who you know is dangerous and volatile and bloodthirsty and not afraid to hurt others. but it is pac. it's his boyfriend. it's ramon's other dad. so he checks himself, reevaluates, questions over and over why pac would be doing this.

it isn't until pac pulls fit to hover over him while he enthusiastically explains a new creative idea he's been mulling over in his brain, hands gesturing happily within the confines of fit's arms and their chests, rambling and infodumping, occasionally stumbling and struggling to find the words in english while he explains, that fit's brain clicks together that all that vulnerability. all that intentional self-disarming. it's been intentional. it's all. been intentional.

the reason pac has been putting himself in danger (making himself vulnerable) around fit is because he trusts fit. these intentional acts that fit would call suicidality in anybody else aren't pac being stupid or careless, it's a willful, intentional reminder, over and over and over, "i trust you," in every breath he breathes while doing things he knows fit's survival habits and instincts would never let him even try to do, showing him that it's safe, here, because if it wasn't, he wouldn't be doing all this.

if it wasn't pac doing all that shit, fit would call it stupiditiy.

but it is pac. so instead, he's pretty sure it's just… pac.

it's just his boyfriend.

so, he's okay.

[nateofgreat]

Rebel Omega (And friends) Headcanons (Part 2)

Based off this post that explains how I envision Omega, Bayrn, Jax, Sami, and Eva in the Rebellion. I refer to them as the Tantiss Cell.

-Omega and Hera run into each other by chance on a Rebel fleet one day and immediately rekindle their friendship. Which is something Hera almost regrets sometimes as Omega's chaotic energy has a tendency of rubbing off on Sabine and Ezra, while conversely Hera's more responsible attitude inspires Sami and Eva.

-When Omega first meets Han Solo she doesn't believe that he's the one who pulled off the Kessel Run because Phee Genoa had previously fibbed that she was the one who did it. She only starts to believe him after seeing him in action. After that she, like with Phee, is suddenly very interested in all his previous jobs.

Han is weirded out by her sudden change from skeptical to enthusiastic but rolls with it anyways because it's nice to have someone who actually treats his feats with the respect they deserve. Unlike a certain farm boy he knows.

-All of Tantiss Cell's missions end up vastly exceeding the initial scope by the time they're finished. Like Bail will tell them to target some small Imperial Outpost on a remote planet and wake up the next morning to find they crashed a Star Destroyer into it.

When he asks what happened, the cell breaks into blame games.

Eva enthusiastically admits to a bunch of stuff that the rest of them were trying to keep secret like; "It was Omega's idea! She said it'd be fun!" :D

Jax and Omega are both attempting to improvise an excuse on the spot, except they always end up spilling the beans. Remember, Omega sucks at keeping secrets (like with Ventress).

Bayrn gives a cryptic riddle as an answer that Bail assumes is a Jedi thing and lets go of. In reality Bayrn doesn't talk like that, he just doesn't want to get wrapped up in it. Also he's totally Bail's favorite on account of his prior friendship with the Jedi Order.

The only person who's word Bail actually trusts is Sami who tells him the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

-The only time missions go exactly as planned is when Riyo Chuchi is the one who gives the order. For some reason Omega always does exactly what she says without any of her usual brand of chaos. While Emerie and Sami beg to know the former Senator's secret. If Riyo knows what it is she doesn't say anything.

-If you ask Princess Leia she talks like Tantiss Cell is the worst one in the Rebellion because she's constantly working overtime to explain their ridiculous actions to the Imperial Senate. "Oh that Star Destroyer crash? Must've been a malfunction! No need to worry about the Rebels or anything." When the Senate's disbanded they're suddenly her favorite operatives.

-Chewbacca and Jax are two peas in a pod, taking to the front lines in every mission and solving every situation with violence. The two of them working together is Sami's worst nightmare come to life.

I'll have to dedicate a separate part to Luke Skywalker lol.

[pupyr0arz]

Reader confronts stalker Gaz

Kyle plans your conversations. He keeps scripts, and the ones about you are his favorite. They keep him company, what he thinks you might do and say and how you’d smile at him gently soothing him out on missions. He could probably talk about your life, up to marriage and maybe kids, for hours.

What he doesn’t have a script for is you sitting down right besides him at the bar with that expression on your face. Kyle knows he’s been caught out the second you pull out the stool, you’re a creature of habit and you never sit this close to the middle of the bar. It’s Friday night, the night you like to come and have a few cocktails before retiring to your home, and Kyle’s new favorite day of the week. Alcohol shows sides of people hidden to everyone under the sun, and ever since you got those tacky, ugly blinds Kyle has been aching for some vulnerability. Something he can pretend is privately shared between the two of you, shine and clutch close without having to grapple with the guilt of intruding, stepping too far away from what can be waived off.

Maybe it’s the lack of you, the sudden deprivement of something hes quickly coming to cherish as much as the blood in his veins, that makes him sloppy. You’re not as neat as you usually are, messy shirt under a jacket, boot laces untied. Your face is cast in shadow and dim lights, and all Kyle can manage to think about as his eyes trace the agitated crease of your brow is that you look like something that belongs in a museum.

“Who,” you hiss, speaking lowly in tight, furious syllables, “the hell are you?”

It’s said in anger, but the words are for him and that sends a little thrill through him. Kyle cherishes each part of you you give him, like anyone who deserves you should.

Kyle, sweetheart. Your secret admirer. No one special. Your soulmate.

“I’m sorry?” He coughs politely, feigning confusion. Kyle leans awayl trying to sell the image of someone being wary of an angry looking drunk stranger, but he’s already mourning the proximity.

“I know you’ve been following me, asshole.” You don’t let him, half standing to shove your face into his, and he’s more pleased than he should be, but your hands are curling into a fist and you smell like alcohol. “I’ve seen you.”

Shit. Now he couldn’t deny it fully. You couldn’t have had more than a glass, were you drinking at home? The drapes must’ve been deliberate, you trying to cut him out of your life. It sends a pang of hurt in his chest—why do you withdraw so suddenly now? It seems like everything about the world demands him to tug you closer, and now you’re running away?

Kyle averts his eyes, lifting a hand in a placating manner. “I have a generic face.” He lies guilelessly, ignoring how you practically breathe smoke at the deflection. Your rage is incandescent, and as much as Kyle loves to stare into the face of your emotions, he isn’t willing to have you get spooked enough to try anything extreme.

Though, with the way you’re cocking your fist back, you’ve got a different idea in mind. Kyle isn’t too mad at you, he’s happy you’re not that scared of him and he likes the idea of you defending yourself if an actual creep ever showed up. He can work with this, though, and he turns into the blow, taking it poorly on purpose.

It’s not exactly how he wanted to get your number, but he’s willing to take anything he can get.

[bunnyhysteria]

does anyone wanna talk about how the fandom has hyper projected onto shen yuan and went the mile with at least a leap of interruptation of one line yet turn a blind eye to the rest of canon?

specifically I'm talkin about the broke american college studentification of shen yuan coupled with the fanon that he's chronically ill. these are two beasts of their own and should be tackled differently so I will.

I personally and strongly disagree with how a lot of fanon portrays shen yuan with messy hair, a large hoodie, disgustin room, and general I guess losercore aesthetics lmao. and now I'm even wondering if he was explicitly a college student or if it was just fanon based on that he's at least 20 years old. I feel this is a mental image constructed not from canon, but the idea of what kind of person would be his age and show his behaviour online... from a western perspective.

I believe that he would be far more put together, especially as he is a rich pretty boy in modern china. the difference in acceptable levels of casual, especially for a son of a very wealthy family, are much different between america and china. honestly I do find it a bit sad I wear a slightly frilly button up shirt and a short skirt and suddenly I'm a model in my area but I digress. I definitely think that shen yuan would probably even be actively into street fashion, give how well he seems to take to shen qingqiu's own pretty boy life. I also have a hard time believin that such a low life style person would readily take to the upkeep and demands of life as an immortal master with specialty in the fine arts.

there's also something to say about his resemblance to shen qingqiu (re: mushroom body), as well as I've seen some people claim that shen yuan was tall due to his lack of reaction nor stumbling with his new towering height. while the two adaptions I know if depict him with short hair, I think he could have readily had longer hair as well, maybe shoulder or so length. if "not reacting" is grounds to stand on (which is also used for the chronically ill headcanon), one could reasonably point out he doesn't seem to have any trouble with his now waist length locks. even slowly growing out my hair I'm having shocks to what the life entails, so I can't imagine being fully chill with sudden long hair. however, with the it's modern china argument for fashion, it is most reasonable he'd have short hair.

and yet, despite all this evidence in favour of a distinguished shen yuan ignored, the fandom took his pretty boy waiting to die line and ran with it, hard. I have been told this was due to a fan translation note implying that it could have hinted to chronic illness, and it was instead warped as fact of what the line was trying to say. I've also seen the lack of reaction claim used on him supposedly adjusting very well to living with without a cure, often paralleled to some people's chronic illnesses. this is a fair headcanon and is not really a problem on it's own. I just want to speak my thoughts on it, especially in contrast to the other popular fanon arising from ignoring a fair bit of canon implications and then taking one that most likely was not even in that direction as gospel.

first and foremost, as a disabled person myself, I find a lot of fandom depiction of chronic illness to be very divorced from reality, used to play into the losercore vibe, often just thrown in there with feelin like the creator forgot they gave him a disability only to suddenly write a single sentence goin "look! he's disabled!", and worse of all as if it could be his only justification for wasting his life away on the internet.

I once read a fanfic that seemed to just list a bunch of things he had or did because of his disability in a very list-like way, but a believable combination enough to presume they at least knew someone disabled, only to leave his cane at home after establishing his unamed illness with 50 symptoms could suddenly k.o. him at any time. not only did nothing happen while he was out, I question why someone of his status yet so severely disabled would not have an ambulatory wheelchair.

I also question the lack of mental illness present in many fanfics. this is not only due to that chronic illness does not really exist independently of mental illness, but I feel that shen yuan is canonically very mentally ill. not only is he wasting his life away with no purpose, heavily implied to be neglected, but he immediately accepts and welcomes a foreign life with no consideration of going back. many people write fanfics of shen yuan pressed about his identity and wishing to be seen for him, but as I've noticed and have pointed out to me by others, that's just not the case. there is no canon reveal because there is no identity conflict. he may divorce himself from shen jiu adamantly, but he marries himself quite well to shen qingqiu, readily switchin how to refer to himself near instantly.

I also feel there's something to say about how he's not only welcoming a foreign world, but one with severe danger that he has to face. and what does he do? dissociates like hell. it takes him a couple books before he even sees those around him as people! I also feel that him not even recognizin that he was cryin from literally ripping a chunk of his own leg out until binghe pointed it out speaks volumes. he let binghe rawdog him in a craze with excruciatin pain that literally killed him and was like "yea this is fine ah what do you mean there's a chance binghe might be dead when I get back noo". could even make an argument that his ignorance to his harem is more than just comphet, but also believin that he wouldn't have value to others in that way. his value is his status: a status he didn't earn and has never earned.

I don't know. I feel there's a lot more to shen yuan than the fandom looks at or rather the fandom digs into things that aren't even there as if it's the penacle of his character. I wanna see more exploration of shen yuan as he is rather than what the fandom wants him to be. or at least to me, his pretty rich boy complex feels far more interestin than the hundredth "oh yea he's chronically ill" shoved in for little to no reason other than they can't comprehend his behaviour without it. as if to say "well if only he could physically do other things, he would. he's not like those losers who can't get a grip of themselves." completely ignorin the depths of mental illness they could explore. it feels both saneist and ableist, in different directions. he's only so pathetic because he's physically disabled. that he can't be any other way, otherwise he's just not likeable.

like give him a couple personality disorders to explore his behaviour with or something! show how he's actually so used to playing pretty composed rich boy in public and that's why he so easily slipped into his idea of shen qingqiu! something!! anything!!!

[cocogum]

The Great Wave - Chapter 3 Review

‼️ SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER ‼️

Warning(s): extreme use of foul language.

Aurora is not pregnant.

I don’t believe it for a second, that cow is lying through her teeth. I already mentioned in the second chapter review that she just couldn’t be pregnant because there are three major reasons that easily disprove her claim.

First, it’s the amount of time that passed by. It has been a few months since Season 4 and the manga, around four months to be exact. And yet, Aurora’s stomach appears to be completely flat. How is this possible? Shouldn't there be a visible bump by now?

Second, season 3’s artbook already confirmed that Aurora was a manipulative woman and wanted to reflect it with her design (by having her hair covering one of her eyes) so who’s to say she’s telling the truth right now??

Third, @kilfeur pointed out in this post that if she was pregnant, Armand would not have allowed her to fly high up in the cloudy sky to gain knowledge about the Eliatrope goddess' eliaculus. Armand was already worried about Aurora when she went up, and the thought of her flying high while carrying their future child would have made him refuse the idea entirely, as he feared it could put their unborn child in danger.

So yeah, this skank is clearly lying her ass off just to manipulate the sadidas so that they could take her side. She’s so fucking petty omg I cannot deal with her. And her father is even worse my god wipe that ugly ass smile off your face you fatass.

This man clearly wants power that’s outside his kingdom. He just wants more even if it doesn’t belong to him and it painfully shows because he won’t stop making this fart face.

But it’s okay because as soon as Amalia opens her mouth, he immediately stops looking like a dumbass and immediately FROWNS because he knows she’s spitting FACTS.

And this is the only reason why I loved this moment. Amalia literally put him in his place and shut him up.

Amalia on the first panel: “What right do you return after you have shamelessly abandoned us? The osamodas kingdom, the nations of Bonta, Brakmar, Amakna, Astrub…”

Amalia on the second panel: “We asked you to come help us!”

Amalia on the third panel: “BUT NO ONE CAME! It was the future of the world that was at stake, not just the Sadida Kingdom!!!”

LIKE YES GIRL YES FUCKING DESTROY THIS OLD WASTE OF SPACE!!!

She literally dragged him on the fucking floor with all these facts omg I can’t she’s such a queen I love her so much. 💖💖

But then, instead of just taking it all like a good boy, this old bag of furry bones only had one thing to say and it was:

Osamodas blue cow king: “You give honor to your egocentrism, Amalia…”

Bruh what.

What are you talking about, you crusty old bat?

She drops so many facts and events that happened and this guy’s only comeback is “you’re being selfish 🥺😡”. Like what the fuck was even that???

Dude if you’ve got nothing to say, then don’t say anything but don’t just blurt out the first thing that comes out of your mouth??? Like what??

This is the equivalent of a detective who presented all the proofs that you committed the crime and the only thing you have to say is “your mama”.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse for this guy, he says:

Osamodas blue cow king: “My soldiers would have beat these creatures just as efficiently as yours.”

Oh yeah, where were they then, you fucking liar??? The worst part about this is that you didn’t even try hiding the fact that you would’ve been ‘ready’ but you’re so dumb you have no idea how brain-dead that makes you sound right now. You’re saying you could’ve sent your men BUT YOU DIDN’T DO SHIT. WHAT’S WORSE IS THAT YOU KNEW THE SADIDAS NEEDED HELP CUZ UR STUPID DAUGHTER FLED TO GO BACK TO YOU.

Also didn’t you once claim that Armand’s army was weaker than yours but then all of a sudden you’re now saying that your army could’ve beat the necromes like theirs did???

(oh oop- Armand don’t kill him yet 😭)

Bitch doesn’t even know what he’s talking about anymore. I doubt he even knows wtf he’s saying half the time.

Are you dumb???? Are you actually suffering from constipation????

You’re implying that you were free to help and that you knew they needed help. YOU’RE INDIRECTLY SAYING THAT YOU KNEW AND DIDN’T HELP DESPITE HAVING THE TIME TO DO SO.

While the old fart is yapping, Yugo’s face is just so 🫤😑 I’ve been staring at this panel for 2 minutes now and I love how fucking out of it he looks while listening to the cow 😭 Actually, I’m not even sure if he’s listening, I think he’s just hearing him from one ear but it all goes out on the other side. He looks like a god who’s about to squash an annoying ass ant lol

He’s literally like “is this bitch fr?”

Like Yugo is 100% confident to say that the osamodas king had no idea what the hell he was talking about when he thought his troops and he would’ve been able to fight off the necromes.

Yugo: “You have absolutely no idea what we saved you from!”

Yugo’s making that face cuz he knows the king has no clue what he’s barking about. (Also can’t Yugo just use his wakfu sensing abilities to check if Aurora is actually carrying another twelvian?? Or is he not able to do that because an unborn child does not have wakfu yet?) Little blue bro doesn’t know what necromes even are cuz Yugo never told him about them so how the hell was he supposed to know if his men would’ve stood a chance???? No seriously is this cow okay? Why is he talking? Is he talking just for the sake of talking?? Is he that self-conscious that he’ll make up lies on the spot just to protect his image??? The cow king doesn’t even know that the necromes had a leader. Yugo and Amalia are dealing with a fucking grown-ass child omg.

Osamodas blond cow: “I left because I made the promise to my dear Armand.”

This is a lie. Armand never heard of any promise. An analysis conducted by @geekgirles even indicated otherwise, supporting that the claim made by Aurora was fake. According to the analysis, Aurora was more inclined towards her family than her new life with Armand, and the claim that he made any promises to her was baseless. If you wish to read the detailed analysis conducted by @geekgirles on this matter, you can find all of it in this post.

I’ll now explain to you, in my own words, why her bullshit is hot donkey ass. Keep in mind that the whole reason why she left was to protect “the child” aka “the future heir”. As I said before, Aurora couldn’t have promised Armand anything because he knew she still held a bit too much on her osamodas family. From what we’ve seen, Aurora had the time to go back to the Osamodas kingdom to check up on them because of the eliaculus in the skies, had sided with her osamodas family during the meeting with the eliatrope goddess, had tried to marry off Amalia to one of her brothers and cousin, deliberately brought some of her relatives to Armand’s coronation to….stand around, and even keeps her father around in the Sadida kingdom when he should either be ruling his own kingdom or go back to his cave. Armand is not a moron. He knows that she constantly brings her own family to a place that doesn’t need them. So when he’s about to sacrifice his life unbeknownst to Amalia, he tells her this:

“The future is yours.”

Armand had passed the torch to Amalia.

It's worth noting that this is a crucial moment because he chooses not to pass the leadership to his own wife, Aurora. This decision is based on the fact that Aurora is heavily influenced by her family and is unable to make independent choices. At the same time, he also chooses not to give it to someone else who is just as important.

And that is the imaginary baby that Aurora is carrying.

Remember that the baby doesn't exist, and that's an important fact to keep in mind. Armand, who still loves Aurora, doesn't trust her enough to give her the leading role, or any role for that matter, especially not one that involves a child they could potentially have together. Instead, he gave the role to his sister. Aurora knows this and is fully aware that her promise to him was never even a thing. In Armand’s mind, it wouldn't have mattered if she ran away because he never intended to give her a part of the kingdom’s responsibilities in the first place, even though her getting away like that would have hurt his heart.

And Aurora is over here saying that her dad will help her lead the sadidas while she’s pregnant, girl sit your ass down no one called for you. Hoe thought she was in the same group as freaking warriors, shut up. You clearly want your father to rule for a much longer time literally wtf.

Osamodas blond cow: “During my pregnancy, my father will help me lead the kingdom…and I also count on him to train the future heir.”

It's concerning that her explanation might make sense to the sadidas. I'm not sure how she managed it, but that skank made it sound like her father would automatically assist her in ruling the Sadida Kingdom (despite them being Osamodas) since she would be pregnant and without aid due to Armand's demise. And after her baby would be born, her father would train him under his guidance to make him become strong and successful. She made it sound like a simple plan with no problems attached to it. She hasn’t even mentioned if the “baby” was an osamodas or a sadida. She only mentioned the gender, that the baby was a male (in French, when she calls the unborn child “the heir” she says it by using male pronouns).

Hey, Aurora what happens when your lie doesn’t work anymore because your stomach will still stay flat after eight months? You’re gonna tell the people that you swallowed the baby or something? That it fell down? What happens when you can’t keep up with your lie anymore?? Huh? Ever thought about that, you dumb bitch?

I have an idea, Amalia: how about you throw Aurora to the other side of the world and then try to get yourself pregnant by using Yugo so that you can also have a better reason to stay? Or better yet, you can tell her to prove her pregnancy because again, HER STOMACH IS FLATTER THAN A WASHBOARD AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS. Make her suffer from her lie and try to make her work hard for it.

You know when a dog lifts his tail and head up while he’s walking away from something cuz it shows just how sassy and confident they are? I see no difference with this crappy blue cow ‘family’ except that it ain’t cute when they do it.

They just ignored everything Amalia and Yugo said, looked the other way from every proof and situation that they were currently in, and only brought out Aurora’s pregnancy as a trashy uno reverse card, then decided to dip out before blurting out that they were gonna wait NEXT TO ARMAND’S FUCKING TREE GRAVE SO AMALIA CAN PREPARE HER STUFF TO LEAVE.

Osamodas blonde cow: “We are going to pray at Armand’s grave tree, while you make your arrangements.”

The fucking nerve to say that.

I don’t give a shit if she’s crying while saying it, this bitch is supposed to be a professional manipulator.

She and her family have no shame whatsoever. They genuinely thought they did something there. The only thing they had as “leverage” against Amalia and Yugo was Aurora’s stupid “pregnancy”. And even if she was actually carrying Armand’s kid (for whatever reason), her reason would still be shit cuz Armand already declared in his final hour that Amalia was going to take his role.

Osamodas blond cow: “Your presence here is no longer desired, sister-in-law. Just do what you’ve always done…Go explore the world!”

Like-

Who are you???

Blond cow had the audacity to exist.

Not only do we know that the royal osamodas family are liars and manipulators, but we also now know that they’re complete dumbasses for even wanting to rule the Sadida kingdom of all kingdoms. The Sadida kingdom is not built like theirs. The Sadida culture and its customs are extremely different and very much the opposite of the Osamodas since these two races are polar opposites. The Sadidas care about plant life while the Osamodas care about wildlife. It would be extremely hard for the osamodas to fully accept a culture that preaches everything that opposes what they preach. Not only that, but the Sadida kingdom is the literal embodiment of nature. If anything tries to hit its source no matter how big or small, then there would be dire consequences to the entire ecosystem of the world. The Tree of Life is such a big deal in fact that Armand even nicknames it “the lungs of this world”.

And to protect it, you not only need to be one with nature, but that also means you need a SADIDA to guard it which is a person that can literally SPEAK FOR THE TREES. Aurora you NEED Amalia, not only because she’s a Sadida, but because she’s also a royal AND has the strongest connection to the tree more than any other sadidas. You’re not just ruling a kingdom, you’re taking care of the world’s core.

And Aurora’s father doesn’t seem to understand that very important detail. When Armand reveals to him that the sadida kingdom keeps getting targeted at all times because it represents the lungs of the world, this fucking dumbass cow thinks that it’s because the sadidas are weak and can’t protect their own home which is why it keeps getting attacked.

Aurora’s father is such an idiot that he doesn’t even understand why the kingdom is so precious when he’s just been TOLD THE ANSWER DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HIS FUCKING FACE.

At this point, even a iop would get it. BECAUSE THE PERCEDAL FAMILY ACTUALLY UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT-

This is why imagining an osamodas ruling the Sadida kingdom is a literal death sentence. Because an osamodas, someone who only takes care of beasts, shouldn’t be able to properly take care of the sacred tree that links every single living plant in the world. For fuck sake, Aurora, why do you think they call it “the Tree of LIFE”?????

If the Tree of Life doesn’t have a proper guardian (aka A FUCKING SADIDA), then it dies. And if it dies, that means the ecosystem dies. Aurora, you dumb blond, let me explain it in osamodas language: if every green that you see outside disappears, that means that your stupid animals won’t be able to properly eat, shit, reproduce, drink, breathe, and live. And yes, Aurora that last one also means that they won’t have a surface to walk on, aka death.

You don’t have a brain because you keep listening to your egocentric manipulative fat father every time he opens his mouth and you keep making constipated decisions without thinking about the later outcomes because you think you’re in control of the situation.

The only thing you can do, and I’m being generous here by giving you a “talent”, is to shut the fuck up and sit there looking pretty. You did a good job doing that in Season 4 and I want you to do that again. And while you’re at it, go make me a sandwi-

Not only does Aurora need Amalia, the sadida who has the strongest link to the Tree of Life, but the Osamodas king also needs Yugo. I’m not sure why these blue people didn’t catch the fact that there’s a gigantic ass necrome dragon that’s only been PARALYZED and is currently standing in the fucking Sadida Kingdom’s backyard. The dragon is very easy to spot and the only reason why Yugo still keeps the eliatrope dofus on him at all times is to prepare himself for when the dragon gets out of this state. Because yes, Armand did beat him, but he didn’t kill him. Again, you are not able to kill a necrome. If the royal Osamodas family somehow takes hold of the Sadida kingdom, how the fuck are they gonna beat a fucking dragon, one of the most powerful fucking entities of this world who also had been necrofied to NEVER FUCKING DIE??? The osamodas cow king never saw a necrome, never beat a necrome, doesn’t know how it became a necrome, and doesn’t know where it comes from. Since he doesn’t know shit about the necromes, how is he gonna be able to fight a fucking necrome DRAGON?????

Sweeties, do you get it now?

Staying in the Sadida kingdom isn’t for power-hungry clowns. Staying in the Sadida kingdom means that you’ve gambled with your life more than once and you know the taste of adventure and combat. Staying there means knowing that your life can be taken away from you by either the enemies who try to take the literal lungs of the world, or the paralyzed undead dragon who can wake up at any time if he simply wanted to.

You bozos NEED Yugo and Amalia to the point where you can’t even be the ones to stay there, let alone own the place. You can’t stay there because there is so much to keep guard of, to be aware of, and to be ready for. The sadidas have practiced this dance for centuries now and they’ll keep doing it even harder because of an additional menace that is living on their grounds, the dragon being that very threat. Now, not only do the sadidas have to be vigilant of the outside, but they also have to be vigilant of the inside.

So yeah, the royal osamodas are a goofy ass family and I hate the circus.

(i love how the French commentaries on Allskreen and the Krosmoz app are clowning this family lol everyone understood the assignment)

[knmaskitten]

Espresso

Pairing: Hinata Shouyou/reader.

Summary: In which you encounter your old love, Hinata, one random day walking down the street. This takes a huge impact on you. You reminisce all of the good old and nostalgic days alongside Karasuno, but specially algonside Hinata.

warnings / tags: Afab/female reader. No use of y/n. Reencounter after breakup. Oikawa Tooru hits on you. A little bit of a physical description at the end, I avoid mentioning stuff like hair color or skin color so it shouldn’t be that much of an issue.Reader wants to be a pro volleyball player. Reader has a huge academic validation (it is kind of part of her personality). A lot of fluff. Hinata avoids his feelings ergo avoids reader. Huge confession at the end. I did not proof read this. You basically are Karasuno’s third manager.

notes: This little reader insert was written in one sitting so I vehemently apologize if I made any grammatical mistakes or punctuation. Also, not very important but still good to know, english is not my first language so read this with that in mind. I first posted this on AO3 so if you want to read my stuff first here it is.

wc: 5,348.

One afternoon, you were walking down the street when, all of a sudden, you saw Hinata Shouyou walking by. He looked exactly the same as he did when you were teenagers (perhaps almost the same; he had a lot more muscle now). He was all alone, shopping at a nearby coffee shop. You were startled; you hadn't seen him since high school, and now he was just standing there. He looked very focused while reading the menu, probably thinking of his order while he waited patiently in a very large line of clients—at least twenty—who looked very annoyed at the pace of the girl at the register.

It was a very well-known fact that you couldn't work under pressure; even your friends mocked you for it. "You are so easy to break!" your best friend liked to say. "You look so cute when you're a flustered mess!" and so on and so forth. Despite all of that, you played volleyball professionally, which meant being pressured all the time. You were a spiker, so that meant following the setter's leads, sometimes being a blocker, and saving the ball. You had to be versatile, all of this in a very short amount of time—fractions of seconds even. But this? This was a different kind of pressure; you had absolutely no idea what to do. And you had your grounds for stating this.

Four years ago, when you were in your first year of high school, when you were sixteen,. You joined the men's volleyball team at Karasuno. You knew this was probably going to take up a lot of your time, but you needed club activities for credits and, well, distraction. You were engulfed in your studies and your desire to be one of the top students at school. Your head professor encouraged you to take breaks and see life in another light, to study a little bit with more ease, and to practice a sport (you quite literally sucked at sports). She said balance was the key to a happy and fulfilling life (or so she said). So you ended up as a helper for the team—not quite a manager but also not a player—and specifically for Kiyoko and Yachi.

Naturally, you were nervous. People kind of gave you the ick; you weren't that much of an extrovert but also not a full introvert. At the end of class, you waited a little bit more just to avoid bumping into any of your classmates on the way home. You also liked to eat lunch alone at your desk. Peaceful and tidy. That’s how you liked it. So this is why it also did not make sense why you chose the volleyball team when you knew how messy and loud things could get. And you absolutely did not know how to handle the situation.

You already spoke with Kiyoko Shimizu, a very stoic girl, and Hitoka Yachi, kind of shy but very lovely. Both were managers of the team (well, Hitoka-san was just kind of a manager in training), and they knew them very well. They talked about the activities you will have to perform if you join the team. They were both very welcoming to you, so you felt a little bit pressured to accept, which, at the end, you ended up indeed accepting.

Standing in front of the school’s gym, you were frozen in place. Unable to actually open the gates and confront your fears, which, you thought, were just unreasonable, people were not going to murder you, humiliate you, or anything like that. It was simply an irrational fear that was tormenting your poor self. Practice had already started with the sound of the ball hitting the court and multiple men shouting stuff like “Nice serve!" “Nice receive!” “One more!” or, seldom, "Hinata, you idiot!”. It sounded like they were having a good time doing what they loved, and that made you feel a little bit more at ease. Volleyball was for them what acing a test was for you; these two very different poles had the same feeling in common. So, you took a very deep breath and opened the doors. Mom did not raise cowards.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt; I’m the new helper.” You spoke in a very low tone, almost faint but hearable. Almost instantly, as if you had a magnet, a guy who was about to hit the ball looked at you. He had his head shaved and looked spellbound the moment you walked in, so he didn’t calculate where the ball was heading and just hit it without noticing its direct trajectory towards you. Squeaking, you placed your hands in front of your face, receiving the ball with your arms. Wobbly, you fell to the ground, your knees hitting the hard wood floor. 

“Tanaka! you dumbass!”

“Oh my god, are you alright?”

“Im so so so so so so so so so sorry, oh gosh.”

You stood there, feeling queasy and blinking slowly, as if this wasn’t really happening. Noticing a lot of eyes on you, you forced yourself to focus on something, anything. Your first reaction was the hot feeling where the ball hit your arms; your veins were pumping blood swiftly, reminding you that you were indeed alive. And also, oh god, that feeling of adrenaline that hit you like a tempest—it felt so weirdly good.

“We might need to call an ambulance; she is not responding. Tanaka-senpai, you broke her.”

“I’m—I’m fine—” You decided to focus your eyes on the last voice you heard; it belonged to a ginger who looked like the bubbliest of them all. He was too short for him to be playing volleyball (you knew how much height mattered in this game) but it had a strange quality you couldn’t decipher either “You guys don’t need to call anything; I’m alright. Better than ever, hah.” laughing it off, you shrugged and stood up with the help of a white-haired dude who exuded gentleness.

“We are really sorry this happened; our teammates react poorly to...girls, in general.” The alluded reacted very hurt by this; they looked fiercely offended. Squinting your eyes, you looked at the guy who almost blew your teeth off (it actually wasn’t that bad, but you will always keep saying you almost died that day). He stopped looking apologetic and started looking a lot more like someone who was about to flirt with you, gesturing towards you with his hand. He spoke his next words with a tone similar to honey.

“I’m so sorry, you beautiful, beautiful girl. Darling, accept this apology I bestow upon you.” He took both of your hands in his, and when he was about to kiss the area where When the ball met your skin, Kiyoko slapped him at the nape of his neck. She looked fierce, severe, and even enraged.

“Guys, this is the new helper on the team. Please give her a warm welcome.” Her tone stayed the same throughout the whole sentence, except at the end, where she raised her tone just a bit: “And do not flirt with her because I will foresee a proper punishment for anyone who dares to do so.” 

“Well said, Kiyoko-san! There’s nothing else to see here; she’s fine; let’s pick up where we left off.” You knew he was the captain just by looking at him.

“Yes! Daichi-san!”

Karasuno’s volleyball team was quite literally full of eccentric people. You turned towards Hitoka and Kiyoko. You felt oddly safe around them; they behaved like sisters with you even though you were a mere student. As of right now, you were just a stranger to them, and they were warm with you; it was the kind of warmth you sought out on rainy days and stormy nights. It felt like home.

“I’m really sorry I made such a fuss; I just wanted to introduce myself.” You apologized as you walked closer to them. By making weird gestures with your hands, you tried to ease the tension that was forming right now.

“Do not worry, please. I’m very adamant when it comes to the girls here."  Kiyoko replied, moving her head up and down full of resolve. Hitoka did the same thing, but she looked a lot more expressive than her Senpai; she even messed her hair doing so. “By the way, you have good reflexes. That was a nice save.”

“Thank you,” you said while feeling flustered. “So who is everybody?”

“I’ll introduce you to them.”

And so she did; you met every single tenacious member of the team. And you worked alongside them as your duties required. They welcomed you with open arms and hearts, considering you part of the team, as if you were even a player. You must admit you did not expect this, not this kind of treatment, nor how they saw you as one of them. You got close to various members, especially Sugawara and Daichi; they behaved like parents with you. Sugawara looked after you a lot; he asked if you ate or how you did on your tests. Since you were a perfectionist when it came to grades, he usually congratulated you and gave you a warm hug. Daichi wasn’t that expressive, but he started seeking you out at lunch time so you could eat with them (even though you were just a first-year).

This shone through whenever Tanaka or Nishinoya tried to compliment you on your looks or on how good the uniform looked on you. Sugawara scolded them like a mother and Daichi yelled at them angrily. Both Tanaka-san and Noya-san were very captivated by you (or all of the managers of the team, for that matter), and they quickly gained confidence in you. You learned to laugh those comments off. As you started to realise it was just an innocent and playful game they had, they did treat you with a lot of respect and good manners at the end of the day. 

Asahi had a hard time warming up to you. He really intimidated you for the matter; he was almost seventeen centimeters higher than you, and he was so broad and big. You thought he had a personality that fit his physical appearance, but you were so wrong. You had to gulp down all of your fears and walk up to him, and with that, you started a friendly relationship. It took some time, but you managed to get him to ask you to hang out with him or correct his spikes. That felt amazing to you.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi became very close to you; they treated you as their equal, and for Tsukishima, that was quite a lot to ask for. He often asked you questions about homework and even asked you to study with them, which you happily accepted. This was your area of expertise, so of course you would say yes. You could help and teach people all day if you could do so; it was one of your many passions.

As for Hinata and Kageyama, you were only close with the latter, as you were in the same class as him and even sat next to his desk. You usually offered to help him study since you knew he had a hard time when it came to academics, and you also felt that it was a little bit of a help to the team since they had to keep their grades up. You almost cried when Kageyama got a 70 on an English test, all because you both had spent the last three weeks studying very intensely. 

You managed to keep a good relationship with the team as the weeks went by, but you still did not know how to get close to Hinata. Everyone warmed up to you except the most extroverted of them all. You felt a little bit bad because of this, but you were able to overcome a lot of obstacles to get to where you are with the team. First of all, speaking with them was terrifying at the beginning because they all had such marked and strong personalities; everybody was also different and unique in their own ways. Secondly, they were very serious about volleyball, so you had to learn the sport very well to actually get close to them. This proved to be very good for you; something in your heart tugged whenever you saw or read about volleyball. Something started to bloom in you slowly but surely, all thanks to them. And finally, you had to open yourself up to them; you had to actually show them what you were made of—your fears, passions, and personality. And that definitely was not peaceful and tidy; on the contrary, it was messy and complicated, but it felt like being alive for the first time.

So, with all of that behind you, you still did not manage to understand why Hinata didn’t gravitate towards you or show interest in knowing you besides his usual "Hello, smartie!” or his wide, toothy smiles. You knew this was just shallow; it was something reserved for everybody; it wasn’t something you two shared together, only the two of you. You also did not understand why you always paid a lot more attention to Hinata than the rest of them. You held your breath every time he scored a point with one of his fast spikes or how high he jumped; you were always mesmerized when you saw him play. At the beginning, you judged him by his height, and he managed to prove you wrong. With his speed and jumps, he is able to fight in the skies alongside all of the tall guys. This fact alone had you on the clouds; you never saw someone fight this hard for something, not even yourself, so it lit something up within yourself. You couldn’t decipher what it was, but you felt the warmth there, tingling.

Hinata slowly filled your head with him. Whenever you went to practice, you couldn’t avoid looking his way or paying attention to what he said when he missed a point or whenever he drank water. You felt your hairs crisp up when he asked something of you—towel, water, what time it was, anything. It just didn’t matter what it was; he had you in a freaking chokehold.

Today was one of the days you had to clean up the gym. The team didn’t practice today, so it was your labour to tidy up. When you came in, you did not expect to see Hinata practicing. He looked a little bit annoyed with himself. Kageyama was nowhere to be seen; it looked like he decided to practice all by himself today. So naturally, a brilliant idea crossed your mind, and you couldn’t rationalize when the word came out of yourself.

“Hey Hinata! Do you want help?” You were wearing your PE class uniform so nothing was really stopping you (besides the fact that you did not know how to properly play volleyball outside of theory). He looked taken aback, almost surprised to see you there. Before he could say anything, you added, “I have time.”

“But you don’t play volleyball.”

“Teach me.”

“Huh!? but I’m not that skilled to do so.” He replied, frustrated.

“Teach me, Hinata-kun! I want to learn how to play. I want to be a great spiker!” You shouted, feeling a little bit overwhelmed. You felt your cheeks warm up as they got coloured with a bright pink color. Hinata observed you silently; he looked surprised by your little demonstration of feelings.

“Alright.”

And so you spent the next 4 hours practicing with him. Time flew by and you had to do your cleaning duties in a hurry and clumsily. Hinata showed you how to control the ball and spike. You practiced until you got at least a perfect spike, and at the end of the day, you were a perfectionist. This weirdly made your heart skip a beat; this felt so close and intimate that you were having trouble believing it happened. So, before you had to leave, you stopped Hiinata at the entrance. Something changed in you today—the feeling of the ball in your hand, the view of the court. Something clicked.

“I want to be a pro at volleyball.” You confesed. You saw how his eyes focused on you and how slowly a frown appeared in his face. Something burned in his eyes and in yours too. Passion flew in the night air. “Help me, Hinata-kun; I want to achieve my dream.”

“Let’s meet up after school on the days where we don’t have practice.” He replied sternly. He meant it; you knew just by looking at him. This was your opening, finally something that you both shared.

And so you did; you both met up every day when you didn’t have practice. You slowly started to get better at volleyball, and you also started to practice by yourself, including training with weights and cardio. With Hinata’s teachings, you could at least get a grasp on how things worked. And each and every day, as you both walked home together, you would chat about anything, slowly growing closer together. Until today,  when he stopped you. 

“I’m very glad we can be teammates on the court,” He shook his head and gave you the most sincere smile he could give you. “But I think its time you asked for the help of the others as well. You are getting extremely good, and I want you to push your limits.”

You would lie if you said it didn’t break your heart a little. You understood where it came from, but at the very same time, you despised every sentence of it and the fact that you got better at volleyball. But you were proud as well; there is a reason you hid your feelings.

“Yeah, you’re right.” That was all you said before waving with your hand and saying, “I’m in a hurry today; I’ll see you tomorrow at practice. Get home safely; goodbye, Hinata,” and with that, you ran. Very fast. Since you were training, you had the ability to run a few meters before you got tired. Little streams of tears ran down your cheeks. Everything was just going so well. What changed? Did you do something? You definitely feel awful right now.

And so, when you showed up to practice the next day, you beamed at everybody and declared that you wanted to practice with them. They refused at first, but with Hinata backing you up (this made your heart ache), you were able to convince them and start practicing with Karasuno as a spiker. Noya-san taught you how to receive and dive, and you learned in no time. Tsukishima helped you with your block, and everybody helped you with your serve. In no time, you were a worthy rival for the team. You had speed and good reflexes; Kageyama loved to be your setter. 

All of this had a very big downside: you grew apart with Hinata; it didn’t matter how good you got; without him, you felt empty, as if someone took the blankets out of your bed, as if someone gave you cold pizza. It was a lonely, empty feeling. You knew he started to avoid you; it all started with your gaze, then the amount of beaming smiles he gave you, then the amount of high-fives he started, and then the amount of compliments he gave you. He started to frown whenever you were around and started to avoid you. All of this did not make any sense to you. 

You decided to brush past every single interaction with Hinata and focus on the important thing: your job as a team helper and rising volleyball player.

For the first one, you had to start planning stuff alongside Kiyoko and Hitoka because the team was going to go against Aoba Johsai, against the fearable Oikawa Tooru. You have heard stories about him, and you heard from Kageyama that he learned thanks to him, so naturally you feel a very strong desire to meet the guy and analyze every move he has. And well, you’ve also heard that he is very handsome. 

And well, for your career, you started going to the women’s volleyball club (they made a very big exception for you because they were in strong need of a spiker) even when it was very late in the year. It was very nice how your itineraries match; your practice with the women’s team was just the day the guys didn’t have. Everything was going great. 

Today you had practice with the women’s team. You were wearing the uniform (it felt really cool) and joking with your teammates, given the chance. Today your practice was positioned on the same day as the guys, so as soon as it finished, you rushed off to the men’s gym to see the guys.

“Heya!” You saluted while entering.

“Your uniform!” Tanaka screamed; he looked head over heels at the way you looked. Noya-san approached you and got down on one knee.

“Noya-san, stand up! Stand up!” You warned.

Sugawara came close to you and looked at them very disapprovingly. He shushed them. “You always disrupt our practices,” he joked lightly.

“Tanaka’s and Noya’s fault.” You looked accusatory towards them. “Is the practice over?”

“Yeah, we were just stretching. You came to discuss tomorrow’s game?” Daichi replied to you.

“Yes, I was investigating the team, and I have information. I went to one of their matches a few days ago, and I have some notes to share.”

And so you commented on everything you had to, every little detail you were able to grasp. How they served and what they needed to reinforce. Everybody paid attention to you very closely, except Hinata. You ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach—how acidic and wrong it felt. When you finished, everybody applauded your hard work on the topic of tomorrow’s game. Given the fact that you were as busy as ever, you still managed to be present. And you felt proud about that because you were juggling so much at the same time and doing it well. Everything was going great, and you never felt like this before.

With those feelings over your head, you went home to sleep and got ready for the game against Aoba Johsai. It was hard falling asleep; you couldn’t reconcile your sleep. Everything came crashing at you. You thought about the possibility of them losing, which haunted you. You thought about Hinata, how he preferred not to have you in his life, and how that hurt. You thought about your future—about your dreams, your hopes, and your fears—until you fell asleep.

When you woke up at six in the morning, you got ready in fifteen exact minutes. You were acting on a whim, all because of nerves. You even put on some makeup for the occasion. Today you decided to wear a black sport shirt and your jet black leggings, pairing them with the Karasuno jacket. For comfort, you picked your volleyball shoes.

 You were very confident in Karasuno and his teammates, but nevertheless, you still felt jittery. Your legs felt wobbly and weak, even though you were training to gain muscle on them. Today was the day you saw Oikawa on court. You longed to see Hinata play at his fullest and to see his super-fast spike attacks. You decided to study for a little bit before you went out, and it also helped calm your nerves.

When you left your house, it was still very early in the morning, but you went walking so it was going to take you some time to get there. Your mom kissed you on the forehead, saying how proud she was and how much the club has helped you, and you thanked her and ran off before you could start to bawl your eyes out.

Aoba Johsai was a private school, and it showed. The building was beautiful and their gym was big and wide. The court looked pristine and well-taken care of. You came early to inspect the enemy’s terrain. To your surprise, you encountered the volleyball team.

“Karasuno High School,” said a brown-haired guy. You recognized him as Oikawa.

“Oikawa Tooru.” You stated that you were looking serious.

“Don’t be so harsh on me; you scare me!” He pleaded. He looked really handsome, as everybody kept telling you. When you observed their match, you were not able to be this close to him. You must admit it, he deserves his rumors of having millions of fangirls.

“I’m one of the managers of Karasuno’s team. I came early.”

“You came to observe while we practiced? or to meet me?” He smiled arrogantly.

“Actually both. I want you to teach me how to serve.” You said bluntly, “I’m on the women’s volleyball team, and I’ve been observing you; teach me, please.”

“Ah, you are quite the interesting manager.” He chuckled and frowned. “Alright, with one condition, you have to look at me when we go against your team. Look at me and learn.”

“Alright.”

You spent the next half hour playing with Oikawa; he was so tough, you could tell. He showed you his power serves and how he managed to always get them right. You knew this kind of precision and technique could only be the result of years and years of practice.

“Look, Miss Manager, you are a good volleyball player, but you lack confidence. That is the first thing you should consider when you put your feet on the court. ” He gave you genuine advice, to which you did not reply. You just gave him a glance and a huffed yes.

When the team arrived, you and Oikawa had already finished. You learned a lot from him, and you would lie if you said he wasn’t very skilled. You went straight to where Kiyoko and Hitoka were. You listened carefully how coach Ukai gave them instructions and words of encouragement. And as that happened, you three went to get a good place to sit and watch the match while cheering Karasuno up.

The match was very hard; you focused on how they all played, and you felt a tug at your heart whenever the blocked Hinata or  his spikes didn’t score. You cheered whenever they scored, blocked, or served successfully. You yelled encouraging words towards every member of the team, and you shouted even harder when it was Hinata’s turn. At this point, you didn’t care about your appearance, how you behaved, or how well you hid your feelings. You just needed to express yourself. And, as you promised, you saw every move Oikawa made—how he moved, his gestures and mannerisms, the way he clutched the ball. Everything. And you learned technique, and you also learned that you should definitely be practicing more because its the little details that make the whole game change.

When the match finished and they won, you felt full. Oikawa looked more fueled than ever, and the team looked as happy as one can be after beating such an enemy as Aoba Johsai. You, Kiyoko, and Hitoka hugged each other and chanted "Hurray.” Together. It was very close, though, so you still took notes on your little agenda. Some tactics that you made up in your mind while watching the game or little mistakes that cost us various points.

When you were leaving with the team, Oikawa stopped you. “I enjoyed teaching you, Miss Manager. If you ever want some help, call me.” He handed you a piece of paper. You were a little bit perplexed and taken aback. Was he hitting on you? For real? You couldn’t form a single thought at this. It was unforeseen and weird, so, when you were about to reply, an angry voice erupted from behind you.

“She doesn’t need your help, great king! Leave her alone!” And as Hinata was saying that, he took your wrist and pulled you out of there. You caught a glimpse of the confused faces of everyone while Hinata took you far, far from Aoba Johsai.

“Hinata. What’s going on?” You asked confusedly. He first ignores you, then marks territory when a guy asks you out. That makes zero sense. “Hinata, answer me.”

He stopped abruptly and turned around to look at you. His eyes were a little bit glassy and his cheeks flushed, and while he prepared to say his next sentence, you observed him closely, as close as you could, since you hadn’t seen him like this in weeks.

“Fine!” He shouted. “I like you! You confuse me a lot, and something inside me tells me to avoid you, but at the same time, I long for the time when we both practiced together, just the two of us.” 

You inhaled some air to reply, but he was faster than you. “You really needed to be trained by other people and other playstyles; be fair with me. I’ve always wanted what was best for you. Whenever I am with you, my heart goes, Pam! Bam! Kaboom! Waaaaaam!” He really looked like he was hurting. “So sorry, sorry, but I couldn’t let that Great King get his way with you! Imagine—”

“Hinata.” You said.

“Imagine he did something to you; I would absolutely never forgive myself because—” He started rambling.

“Hinata!” You shouted.

“Huh?” He stopped talking and looked at you, more teary-eyed than ever.

“Can I kiss you?” You spat.

“Ah?! but—don’t you hate me? “ He asked.

“Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

And so you did. You crashed your lips with his in  a very messy but sweet kiss. Hinata’s lips tasted like a sweet and soft marshmallow; his kiss tasted like honey; and you felt as if this was what you needed for a long time. This was the root of your longing—this kiss and this moment with Hinata. You placed your hands on his sweaty hair and started caressing him in very careful circular motions. The kiss in reality didn’t last long, but for both of you, it lasted an eternity.

“Be my boyfriend.”

And after this incident, you and Hinata really did hit it off. You both were a good couple; you helped him with his exams, and he helped you with your jump (although you were already good at it). With the passing of months, you had to leave your position as manager to become a full-time volleyball player. That day, when the match against Aoba Johsai happened, you discovered that if you were not going to dedicate full time to volleyball, you better quit. Nevertheless, you still supported Karasuno; hell, you went to cheer up on your boyfriend every time he had a match.

You and Hinata lasted three years, then you both broke up to follow your careers in volleyball. You knew this was going to happen, but you both bid your farewell and went to different parts of the world to learn and practice volleyball. He was admitted to a great first-league volleyball team, and so were you.

Until today, four years later, when he stood in front of you. You still didn’t know what possessed you that day when you asked him for a kiss or what it was that was possessing you now, but you walked towards him. Just when the cashier asks for his order.

“I’ll have... a melon pan and...” He started saying:.

“And an espresso.” You completed.

He instantly turned around, and as if he saw a ghost, his eyes scanned you with surprise and fear. He didn’t really process what was happening; he only knew that he saw you. And you looked as pretty as he remembers, with your lovely hair that frames your face, your intense gaze, and your lips that looked like they needed him and only him. Meanwhile, the cashier looked perplexed.

“So the espresso goes or...?” She asked expectantly.

“Yeah, the espresso goes.” He replied, looking at you, “Actually, make those two, please.”

Thank you for reading <3

[mikuni14]

We Are - Ep 6, Only Boo - Ep 5

Perhaps because of I Cannot Reach You, which I watched on Saturday, my view of We Are and Only Because this week was more harsh and less forgiving than usual 😭

We Are My biggest problem with We Are is that this show has no substance when it comes to romance. NONE. Seriously, it's more "meaty" on friendships than romance 😄 EVEN if a couple falls in love with each other at first sight, even if the couple starts their relationship with strong attraction and sex, for the romance to be interesting and engaging, we as viewers must observe some development, progress in the relationship. This is some form of journey for lovers and we accompany them in it. We Are, with the exception of Q and Toey, doesn't show relationship development at all. Tan and Fang have had about 3 scenes together so far, involving giving each other snacks and one scene of helping with a project. We know NOTHING about Fang. And suddenly in this episode, Tan proposes dating and Fang accepts. Where did this come from? Since when has Fang been in love with Tan? Is he in love with him? Their relationship… like what? Where?? When???? I have no idea what's going on with Chain and Pun (will they even be a couple?), especially since Pun suddenly has a great relationship and better chemistry with Mick. Regarding Phum and Peem: I just can't stand the way Phum behaves towards Peem, it's FUTS all over again, i.e. a rich and handsome but dumb guy doesn't know how to talk to his crush and comes up with complicated plans that always somehow humiliate said crush. The way Peem was waiting for him at the pool in this episode, AGAIN, while Phum was gaming with his friends… it pissed me off so much! And this "being a slave" is still treated so… normally and it is shown as something funny and romantic, as if Peem had no sense of self-worth and it was still a form of "fun" for him, and when he screws up and Phum is still nice (as in the food scene), then it is something positive for him. Well, unfortunately this is not my kind of romance, there is NOTHING cool or romantic about it for me and in real life Phum and Peem would not have a chance to be together. Their romance is ENTIRELY based on the oldest tropes, i.e. falling on each other and suddenly being close. Normally I love this closeness, when the characters are lost in each other's eyes and the sudden closeness makes them feel dizzy 👌 But this is literally the basis of their relationship, not one of the many things that make up romance. My beloved @miss0atae described the character of Phum in a very interesting way in this post and I also have the same thoughts. But the series completely screwed up on this matter because this thought occurred to me after his one sentence at the end of episode 5, because Phum simply acts like an ordinary asshole, his behavior was devoid of nuance and context so far. And that's the problem with We Are: this show has potential and, most importantly, it has the TIME to delve into each of its characters, including showing Phum as someone who is lonely and has trouble establishing romantic relationships, which is why he behaves stupid (for which he should face consequences). How unfair it is that Gray Shelter had material for a full season and crammed it into 5 short episodes, and We Are has SO MUCH TIME and can't use it. How much more interesting would the relationship between Phum and Peem be if they met under bad circumstances that would make them dislike each other, but also if they felt attracted to each other due to their expressive and strong personalities, all laced with the fact that they are both young, hot and each other's type 😉 I would love to watch their relationship in which they both mature, discover new feelings and needs, in which their prejudices are tested, in which they make mistakes and apologize, thanks to which they develop. How much more this kiss would feel deserved, long-awaited, important.

Only Boo I love Moo, I love Kang, I don't like forcing feelings on someone, I don't like putting pressure on someone, I hate love serenades, and I HATE love triangles. I know, I know, the series is silly and fun, and not that deep 🤡 I'm just being grumpy.

But maybe it's actually I Cannot Reach You's fault. I should take a 2-week break from watching BL series after every 10/10 drama lol

[gifti3]

okay im back with more for this arranged marriage AU! Heres the last thing i wrote

this time i made something longer--Asmo and MC doing their little meeting/date before agreeing to marriage its fun check it out :]

the only warning is "an upset asmo getting in ur personal space'" other than that i think thats it!

Tomorrow you were supposed to meet your possible future fiancé. This type of affair was not a first time thing for you so you already had an idea of how things would go. Which was the two of you being forced to interact for several hours.

Though you knew what was coming, was it not possible to be a little nervous considering who it was you were meeting?

Asmodeus Morningstar--one of the most influential families in Nefarelin. Their was no shortage of exceptional members in that tree. And to be crass, every other potential spouse you met before were like dried leaves in comparison.

And this didn't even factor Asmodeus's own appeal and popularity. You'd only seen him in passing a few times but you could tell he was quite beautiful even from a distance. On top of that, the general public were strangely obsessed with him. You weren't completely sure why, but he must be very likeable if that's the case.

God, how many people have probably asked for his hand in marriage by now? You could only wonder.

All around it would be pretty foolish to turn this down. And that's why you were nervous…. Your parents were giving you a choice. But it was one of those choices where the answers were 'yes' or 'hmm, okay I suppose'. You did not want to know what would happen if you dare declined.

You'd already considered the logistics of this situation, dwelled on it for days. And it would definitely be a loveless marriage from your side. And that was something normal…but you were fine with how your life was currently! You didn't want to deal with any expectations romantic or otherwise from a spouse.

And what about Asmodeus.

He was well loved by many, had a reputation for enjoying the nightlife and being the center of attention. It seemed highly unlikely that a man like him was looking to "settle down" all of a sudden!

Your hands stop fiddling with your hair.

Wait.

Maybe this arrangement could work.

~

God this is so uncomfortable.

Maybe you underestimated Asmodeus. For some reason the first time your eyes met his saccharine ones, you struggled with maintaining contact. Each time, it felt like he was staring straight into your mind.

Perhaps it was just your nerves but either way you were overwhelmed. You didn't feel like yourself so had trouble talking.

Luckily for you, Asmodeus didn't notice or didn't care as he had been talking nonstop this entire time.

"Hellooo?"

"Oh--sorry what did you say?"

Asmodeus repeats his question while fanning himself. "I asked if you wanted to rest for a minute. I need a break from the sun."

"Okay…"

It was sunny today but not too hot to take a walk. Though you had been outside for a good while with Asmodeus. You both make your way to a gazebo that provided good shade around this time of day.

You rest your elbows on on of the railings and prop your head in your hands. A small sigh escapes you.

"Can you make it any more obvious that you don't want to be here?"

Asmodeus rests a small distance away, smiling but you're not so sure if he's being lighthearted about it.

It was a fair observation. These meetings always felt like a waste of time to you. They were forced interactions. The worst type. And you already knew you'd agree with the arranged marriage at the end anyways.

"Sorry, I'm just a little tired."

You look back at him and try to give a friendly(?) smile. Actually why not just be straightforward now?

"It's kind of hard to believe you want to get married. It doesn't seem like something that would interest someone like you."

"Eh…I guess there comes a time in everyone's life where they think about these things."

Very vague.

Asmodeus leans back in his chair, looking up as if he's scraping through his brain. "But I don't recall running into you beforehand. I definitely would have remembered…so how would you know that?"

"I've heard a lot about you. Kind of impossible not to."

You had a bit of an idea about him before this whole situation. But once it got out that he was "interested" in proposing, well the maids had no problem telling you everything they knew. It was definitely not all true, but it pretty much confirmed what you already felt.

"That makes sense. Isn't it great that now you get to experience me in person instead of by word-of-mouth~"

"…Uh huh. Well I feel like I should tell you now. That I plan to say yes."

"Say yes?"

"Say yes to marrying you."

You watch for any negative reactions but nothing. Though you were still sure he wasn't really interested in marriage.

"…Oh?"

"Listen I understand if you were forced into this position. In fact, I'm sure that you were. And to be honest I've never been partial to marriage myself. I always thought it wasn't in the cards for me…"

You take a step away from the railing closer to Asmodeus. "But wouldn't it be foolish to say no? Outside of the benefits it would have for my family. You're definitely one of the most sought after bachelors…and well just look at you. I'm almost a little envious…"

Asmodeus's curious face changes to something else. Something you can't really place your finger on. You just knew he didn't look very pleased.

"Well at least I know you're not blind." His fingers play with his fringe. "And that's all fine and dandy but…"

When Asmodeus stands and looks back at you your heart skips a beat. You take a step back as he takes one forward. "I hope you're ready to handle me because I don't think you can."

Oh my god what was happening?

You were frozen in place as Asmodeus trapped you against the railing between his arms. You didn't even think to push him away and just stood there stupidly.

"I-I…"

Rustling sounds from a nearby hedge, but when you both look in the direction of the noise there's giggling and the sound of retreating people.

You sigh. At least someone was enjoying the show.

You gently push at Asmodeus's chest so you can make space.

"Sorry sometimes the staff gets bored haha…er should we h-head back?"

"If that's what you want."

Asmodeus turns away from you. "I just want you to know that since this marriage is just a title I'll be sticking to my usual. Hope you don't mind~" He walks away humming to himself.

Your brows furrow…that man. Why'd he have to do all that? You weren't expecting anything different in the first place?

You let out a huge sigh. Was this going to be the norm from now on?

Well at least you both were on the same page about the marriage…. but you couldn't help but think a serious misunderstanding just occurred.

[paracosim]

I find it fascinating how voices change between languages. Pre-T, I spoke French in a very high tone and English in a much more androgynous one. Now, a little over two years on T, my regular English-speaking voice is pretty low but when speaking French, it gets really deep. My voice lowers when speaking Yiddish or Hebrew, but nowhere near as much as French

[bigothteddies]

forever thinking about the one smut story I read years ago that had incredible world building for this werewolf pack of men in a normal setting and detailed more about relationship dynamics and emotions than anything to do with sex