#I mean obviously it's not as simple as this

[bahablastplz]

Changbin + Choking

CW: Choking (obviously), Slight dom Changbin, praise, thigh riding WC: 650

Thinking abt asking Changbin to choke you for the first time…

“You want me to what?” 

“You know, choke me? If you’re okay with it, I mean… but I just thought it would be hot.” 

“But what if I hurt you baby?” He looks up at you for a second, concern washing over his features. 

“I kind of… want you to?” He looks at you with wide eyes, but you interrupt him before he can speak. “Okay well, it’s more like, really hot to think that you *could* hurt me, you know? Like you have these really big and sexy muscles, you’re really strong so you can like, hold me in place and squeeze my throat without really hurting me, but I’ll feel it, right? Like, you’re the one that has all that power over me, you’re the one in control,” you say. You know you’re rambling, but when you look up your boyfriend has a pained expression on his face. 

“Mhmm,” is all he says, but it sounds more like a squeak. 

“Bin… you okay?” “Am I okay… yeah yeah yeah yeah, I’m fine!” He says all too quickly. “I’m so fine. I’m really good, actually, I’m–” 

“Bin.” 

He takes a deep breath and looks at you, pink dusting his cheeks. “Fine, baby. That was just so hot, I don’t know. I’m just embarrassed about how that made me feel. Why don’t you come here, yeah? And I can show you?”

He pulls you into where he’s sitting on the couch, his hands on your hips as he guides you down. As you start to straddle him he tsks, picking you up and placing you right where he wants you–His thigh. 

“Wait, Bin… I want you–”

“Shh,” he interrupts. “You’re gonna be okay. Can you show me how badly you want me? Need you to get off on my thigh first.” 

You hesitate for a second but when his hand wraps around your throat you gasp. Your hips start moving back and forth on his clothed thigh before you can even think further. 

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. You like my muscles that much? Need you to show me how good my thigh is making you feel.” 

The hand on your throat squeezes just a little bit and when you let out a delicious moan your boyfriend lets out his own breathy sigh in return. He looks just as utterly wrecked, eyes dark and lips parted and hair messed up and sticking out in the wrong places–all from the simple actions of you grinding against his thigh, your clothed clit rubbing deliciously against the material. 

You get worked up way too fast until your hips sputter, losing your rhythm. Before you realize, you’re rocking back and forth at that same speed, and you realize that Changbin is pushing and pulling you onto his thigh by the grip on your throat. His grip is sturdy but not bruising, though the way he manhandles you by the most vulnerable part of your body with all of the control in the world makes your head spin. You let your body still, him now doing most of the work for you.

“Fuck, close…” you warn. 

You feel him flex his thigh underneath you, the muscles contracting against your clothed core. He drags your body against the fabric even harder, the pressure building up even more. 

“You look so good like this,” he breathes. “God baby, cum for me. Let me make you finish all over me so I can fuck you on my cock.” 

Your thighs shake as you finish and he helps you ride out your release before he lets go of your neck. You slump forward into him, catching your breath as he cradles your head into him, stroking your hair. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay baby? Want me to choke you while you ride my cock?” 

*** Masterlist Recs

[monster-gender]

This was originally going to be a more general post about how people have bad takes about Sylvester and Florencia, but it kinda got away from me because I started realizing that the Rozemyne/Wilfried engagement is probably the thing that's caused the most misunderstandings about him.

First of all, it was literally Ferdinand's idea originally. Seriously, look at the "Year One: Complete" chapter in p4v3. Such a simple detail, but it seems like a lot of people forget it.

Second, it did not happen because Sylvester favors Wilfried. In fact, Wilfried is basically just a means to an end in all of this. It happened because Sylvester prioritizes *Florencia*. Sylvester doesn't care if "commoner blood" or Ferdinand or whoever else becomes the next archduke. He cares about cementing Florencia's place as the mother of the next archduke. And on top of that, Sylvester was trying to grant Rozemyne's wish of staying in Ehrenfest. Mostly because obviously she benefits the duchy, but also he literally says that he still felt bad about tearing her away from her loving family and wants to at least grant her wish of staying near them.

Wilfried in particular benefiting from the engagement was just an extra little bonus in all of this. If Charlotte was a man, or Melchior was older, the engagement would've been with them instead. How do we know this? Because Sylvester and Florencia already gave up on the guaranteed Aub thing after the Ivory Tower incident, and if Charlotte or Melchior were an option then they'd be much more secure candidates than Wilfried (even completely disregarding skills and whatnot, Charlotte and Mechior not being criminals would give the Leisegang's much less leverage).

Which brings us to the final piece of this: "Sylvester is such a bad father! He didn't let Wilfried step down even though he wanted to!!" Let's remember the situation here: Wilfried picked quite literally the worst possible moment to start backing out, which Sylvester points out. Sylvester even said that he would've let Wilfried step down and take responsibility for Rozemyne himself, but Wilfried didn't change his mind until it was too late. Remember, he wasn't suffering silently wanting to step down the whole engagement: he changed his mind *after* his conversation with Ortwin, which was *after* the FVF purge.

Don't get me wrong, Sylvester has a lot to be criticized for, but this the way people try to erase the complexity of layers that Kazuki-sensei weaves into her characters is so maddening.

[cevheris]

Abby Anderson.

Fucking you on her motorcycle ☺️

tags: no need to sugarcoat anything she eats you out on her motorbike, semi public sex, she's kinda rough with it, dom/sub undertones.

You were riding on Abby's motorbike, been so needy lately but she was a busy woman, so you weren't able to play around as you'd like. You had missed her touch, the way her muscles would flex when she had her strong hold on your flesh. But now you were alone, well on the road, no less. Your tits behind the flimsy material of the shirt you were wearing pressed against her back as you hold onto her.

Arms wrapped around her lower belly, playing dangerous but it was worth it, traffic safety be damned you were fucking dripping for this woman, head too fuzzy for consequences.

She was taking you to a friends house or whatever, you weren't listening when she told you that, instead you were busy grinding yourself on the seat of the bike like a pathetic little slut, but you pay no mind to such labels anymore. I mean if the shoe fits.

But you weren't completely stupid, obviously, so you wait like a good girl for a red light to strike, your hand drawing closer to her parted thighs once she stops the ride you are onto her.

"Abby-" delicate fingers playing with the material of her pants, near her inner thighs earning a surprised gasp from her. And as if taking that as your cue you press against her further and cup her clothed pussy.

She involuntarily drops her head back, with a heavy whine she spells out "What are you doing-?"

"You know exactly what," you apply pressure with two fingers on where you know her clit to be under those layers.

"Are you out of your mind-" her hips rise a little to gain more friction from your palm involuntarily, you take your hand away just to be a little shit. Making her groan at the lost.

"Maybe i am," but before you can do much else the green light is on and your time is up. She pushes on the engine and you almost fall back with the momentum, barely finding the time to hold back to her. "Whoa- hey- hey" maybe she was the crazy one.

Now you weren't the only one playing said dangerous game, her's were deadly though, nowhere near close to your little teases of cat and mouse. You realize she's changed routes, and her grasp on the handlebar lever a little too strong for the speed limit.

"Wait where are we even-" she cuts you before you can finish.

"We will play what you want, how you want bunny."

Abby pulls near a back alley, without telling you anything she spins you around and you brace yourself against the stone wall of the shady corner, only support being her motorcycle.

"Acting like a cheap whore will only get you so far you know," she gives a little slap at your butt, so rudely "Good thing i'm here, yeah?"

Goddamn, seeing her mean like this was something new, but fuck was it a welcome surprise. You whine then, she presses you further into the wall with your cheeks squashed and her hand on your ass.

Abby's next move was simple, pulling your pants down together with your underwear, bunching at your bent knees, leaving you open on display. The cold air of both the alley and reality of being bare in public, well, semi public but still, was making you drip down hard.

Abby kneels down, presses her face to your cunt, laps at your slick as if honey, only getting you wetter. Eating pussy from behind felt dirtier, cheap.

She spreads your lips to lick deeper into your wet hole, teething on your slick pearly clit. Kissing your puffy lips and playing on your rim, she knew how you liked it best.

Well she also knew she had to keep it short, unfortunately. If it was up to her she'd keep you open on display like this and lick you clean until you were out of it and spent, but alas, you were getting your ass ate in a back alley for fucks sake.

Her tongue continue it's magic for some more, enough to get you off for two times, your hole leaking down like some fountain of youth.

But before giving you the pleasure of a third orgasm she pulls back, slaps your pussy from the back and pulls your pants back up. A needy whine slips your lips while you move your hips together to feel better. That was not enough.

As if reading your mind, "Look at the mess," trust she was no different under those clothes, "We'll continue later baby, when we get back."

Yeah and when you do get back, she'd split you apart with her eight inch strap, well lubed up and well pampered until you can't remember ever feeling so needy.

[mrsbsmooth]

Ok I've been in the fandom for about three years now, but I still sometimes feel like I'm on the outside - how do you make close friendships? because I've spoken to many people in this fandom, including you, and I call you guys friends in my head, but I'm too anxious to just talk to people in their inbox just because I like them and I don't wanna be annoying or overstep if you get what I mean

HOLA!

You'd be surprised how often I get asked stuff like this.

Honest answer?

#3: Engaging on tumblr Reblogs, comments, etc. Nothing better than screaming at each other in the comments of a post. I think I'm weird in that I prefer comments to reblogs because it doesn't clog up everyone else's dash. #2: Engaging on Ao3. If you're looking to snag a writer friend, read their fics and comment on them. Then have the same URL on tumblr and send them an ask about it. We are simple beings and easily tricked into friendship if you tell us you like the thing we spent 45 hours writing.

#1: Discord.

I've made so many wonderful friends through tumblr. It's one thing to reblog something or comment (I think comments are better than just a blank reblog, personally), but my friendships within this fandom only kicked off really once I started talking to them on discord.

Of course we've got the Writer's room which is just me, Emma, Bia, Elle and Tammy, and there's a private server for dedicated fanfic writers (although you have to be a writer and also have somewhat of a highly visible presence to be invited to that one. They've had HUGE issues with semi-anonymous people wanting to join and then being trolls or starting drama and wrecking the wonderful friendly vibe.) But there is also an amazing fan server which I believe is still run by @caitkaminski @oliverslove and @rebelrayne. It's an absolutely wonderful place and there's almost always discussion going on in there, especially on episode release day. It's WILD. I highly recommend it. Check their blogs, I think the link is in their bios.

Also, I don't even know who you are (anon obviously) but you're my friend in my head too dw xxx

[sjofn-lofnsdottr]

What Type of Villain are You?

Got tagged by @gatheredfates, let's see what result my golden retriever got:

Sportsmanlike

You may be a villain with selfish goals, but you recognize that there are rules to this back and forth between heroes and villains. You have honor. Morals. Some may call you old fashioned, but there's a tradition to this whole evil business and you'll be damned if you let yourself break it. You offer hospitality to the heroes when you recognize you must, even when it gets in the way of your plans. You play dirty only when absolutely necessary. You honor your word and if you lose, it is with grace and dignity. You consider yourself classy, respectable, and while you realize you may be evil, you're not gonna let that make you an asshole.

Mm, yeah, I could see villain Dusk really sticking to the idea that just because he's working at cross purposes with 'heroes,' that doesn't mean he has to be a dick about it. I can't ... see him ever actually turning into one, but stranger things have happened, I suppose!

And hell, let's do a bonus round. What did you get, Mercuriel?

No Moral Compass

You are cold, analytical, and you strive to be as objective a person of flesh and blood can be. Either don't understand the concepts of good and evil, or you understand it perfectly and think it's a load of bull. Some may call you selfish, some may call you unfeeling, but you're just doing what you believe will yield the best results, plain and simple. Why bother with petty ideals of right or wrong, when you can do what will actively help those you give a fuck about? Your goals may be selfish or noble or anything in between, but you will not let anyone make you feel like garbage for going after them. You couldn't care less about what people brand you as. You just care about getting shit done by any means necessary.

Mercuriel understands the concepts of good and evil, he assures you.

I shall tag @alixennial, @petitfarron, @joiedecombat, @eorzeanflowers, and @shamelessdisplay, although obviously I'm curious about pretty much anyone so if you wanna do it, do it, I say!

Quiz is here!

[doctordeathawaits]

PLEASEEEE CAN I GET SOME TRANSPRIEST TIPS?? /Nf (I think that's the right tone tag, I'm meaning to say not forced)

Thank you if you do it !! :]]

FUN FACT WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A PRIEST . WENT TO A SEMINARY AND SHIT AND WERE A PASTORS ASSISTANT IN 2021

TRANS - PRIESTS ...

Obviously - practice the religion , we personally studied catholic yet it's all up to you < 3

Surround yourself with said religion , add elements of it in your daily life . Wear crosses , pray in the morning and in the night , read a Bible verse everyday and let it motivate you for the day < 3

Make it a goal to read the whole Bible ! But not only to read it - dissect it , theorize every verse < 3

To become a priest , make it a habit of attending church - befriend the pastors / priests in your community , help out at the church , having a good reputation will help you in the future !

If able - enter a seminary ! Depending on the community , some need a specific GPA , some need proof of physical / mental wellness , so look into it !

In seminary , you'll spend your years studying philosophy , Latin , Greek , Gregorian chants , dogmatic and moral theology , exegesis , canon law , and church history ! You are able to study these topics in your spare time / in the comfort of you home < 3

Study psychology !!!! Many Priests need to learn psychology / end up having to learn it in order to join a Priesthood !

If you pass the seminary - you will have to serve six months as a deacon < 3

As for euphoria / appearance wise , wear black clothing with white undergarments ! Example ; simple black pants and a black sweater vest with a white shirt underneath ! < 3 inspo .. INSPO .. inspo ..

Most priest have this weird thing where they always have to nod and smile at other priests , so this interaction can help with euphoria ! < 3

If you know other transPriests - greet each other by saying '' Father , bless '' ( first to greet asks to be blessed ) , " Blessed be , Father " ( the person in response )

Reading the Bible and silently reciting Rosary on public transport !

You can order clergy collar tabs and pin them behind collard button-ups ! Although as an alternative , you can get a thick piece of white paper , cut and pin the paper behind the button-up collar !

Anytime you leave someone's house , tell them '' Blessed be '' instead of goodbye < 3

Good luck and happy transitioning , Blessed Be !!

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Too Close

Javier Peña x fem!reader

Part two

Series masterlist

Blog masterlist

Eight o’clock sharp, you’re standing in the small apartment lobby, staring at the faded paint on the walls chipping. Your outfit of your first day at your new job is simple and classy—or you hope so, at least. A short, white, plaid pencil skirt combined with formal but comfortable shoes, and a plain white button-up blouse that shows your midriff. Your hair is down, just washed, styled in that way that makes you feel most confident.

You’re still nervous. Nervous off your fucking ass. And the prospect of seeing Javi, of having him take you to work, of spending time with him…It makes you flustered. He’s handsome, he’s witty, he’s kind. From what little you’ve met of him until now, he’s just your type.

But…

But he’s older. He’s much older. He must be what? Thirty-four? Thirty-five? Thirty six? Somewhere in between, you guess. And why would a man like him even glance at you? You’re a kid to him. He’s almost twice your age. What are you thinking?

You hear a door opening and keys jingling. A moment later, Javi walks to the lobby in a red button-up tucked into his jeans, a belt holding them up. He’s wearing a jacket and a tie, and he looks…

Fuck, he looks hot, you think, trying not to think about it.

“Mornin’,” he greets, those dark eyes taking in your outfit.

You feel yourself growing a little uneasy, shifting your weight around a tad. “Is this okay?” you ask of your outfit. “Does it get too cold here?”

He shakes his head. “Your outfit’s fine,” he tells you. “But I might need to take you out into the field with me sometimes, and it would probably be better for you to wear something that’s comfortable in case we need to stay out all day.”

You pause. “You're gonna take me into the field?” Your voice should be afraid; instead, you're delighted.

He chuckles. “No where too dangerous,” he promises. “Just little meetings with sources. Nothing for you to worry about. Besides, I'll be there to keep you safe.”

You smile softly. “My grandpa never let the other agents take me out onto the field. He was too afraid of me getting in harm’s way, I guess.”

“Dealing with sources isn't really that dangerous,” he tells you as he places a hand on the small of your back to lead you to the underground parking lot of the building. Tingles brush up your spine. “Worst parts are when we burst into coke labs or hideouts, stuff like that.”

“They're also the most exciting, I bet,” you say. “I mean, dangerous, obviously. But the adrenaline…”

He chuckles. “It's only exciting if you survive,” he points out. “Usually there are more funerals than celebrations after those kinds of raids.”

You're silent for a second. “I…Yeah, you're right.” Your voice turns soft, pensive. Of course it's not some game. What are you thinking? You're seeing it from a journalist’s perspective, not from a DEA agent’s. Raids make great stories, sure. But having to participate in those raids…

You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re now a member of the DEA, not a journalist. The world isn’t only about telling stories now, it’s about living them.

Javier leads you to his car and opens the passenger door for you. Immediately, you're blushing again, nervous and flattered. You stutter out a thank-you and Javi chuckles smoothly.

He gets in the driver's seat and, oh, God, if you thought he was hot, watching him drive just about sends you hurling over the edge. The way his aviators give him a mysterious hue, the early-morning sunlight shining through the window as he drives you through Colombia…

His nose, his lips, his jawline…Oh, you want to kiss it all. Kiss his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his lips. Oh, those lips…

You realize you're staring when Javi glances at you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You alright there?” he chuckles.

You blush, snapping your head away, glancing out the windshield. “Y-yeah. Fine. I'm just…trying to get a bearing of my surroundings, y'know. I'm gonna have to drive to the embassy myself eventually,” you say quickly, hoping your voice doesn't quiver as much as you think it does.

“I wouldn't mind driving you every morning,” he says casually, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift. “We leave the same building and get to the same place. Problem would be when we each gotta go our separate ways.”

“Yeah.” You nod. “You work late?” you ask, out of curiosity more than anything.

He chuckles, a sound somewhere between amused and endeared. As if you were a child asking some silly little question. “You…could say that.”

You bite your lower lip, wanting to ask more, but you don't want him to think you're a naïve little girl. You're twenty-three. Not a child.

He's almost twice my age, you think, of course he sees me as a child.

*

Javi glances at you, noticing the slight pinch between your eyebrows. Did he say something wrong? Did he make you uncomfortable? He has the feeling you want to say more, to ask more. What's holding you back?

“I usually don't have a very regular schedule,” he tells you, hoping to ease your nerves. “It depends a lot on the narcos since we gotta take ‘em by surprise and we never really know where they're gonna be. So we gotta seize any opportunity we get.”

You nod. “Right. It's…Is it stressful? Always guessing where they're gonna be?”

“More than stressful, it's frustrating,” he responds. “Every time we think we're close, they vanish like thin air. Especially Escobar. He's a real tough motherfucker. Careful, ingenious. It's like chasing shadows. Every time we go after him, it's as if he already knows it.”

You pause, turn to him as he stops at a red light. “Every time?” you question.

He nods. “Yeah. We've barely even been close.”

“And you've made sure there are no leaks within the DEA? Or the Colombian military? Because it's a little odd that he can always predict your next move.”

Javier's eyes widen. Of course. How could he not think of that? There's probably someone playing for both sides. A mole filtering information to Escobar. But it would have to be someone close, someone who knows all of their plans.

It's not Carrillo. Carrillo is fully trustworthy, Javier is sure of that. But maybe someone on the Search Bloc, someone new…

He gives you a little smile. “Smart thinkin’,” he tells you. “It would've never occurred to me.”

You shrug as if dismissing your great idea. “I'm a journalist. My work depends on sources and info leaks.”

Smart, gorgeous, witty, humble…

Javier tries to keep himself in check. You're everything a man would want.

But not him. He shouldn't want you. You're so young, there are so many guys out there who would be better for you. He knows that. But, God, what he wouldn't give to get a taste of you…

*

The day flies by—no, the weeks fly by. Between doing your investigations, adjusting to the new work environment, getting used to living on your own, learning Spanish, and trying not to think about Javier, a month passes in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly you have an established routine, suddenly you're settled in. Suddenly you understand more Spanish and your accent decreases slightly. Suddenly, Colombia is becoming a home to you.

But the deeper you fall into Colombia, the deeper you realize it's a war zone. A small-scale kind of war zone. Sicarios—hitmen—make people disappear without anyone noticing for days.

Only reason you know is because those people are usually your sources.

Javier was right about the work being more frustrating than stressful. It's like sand, slipping right through your fingers. No matter how hard you try to hold onto it, it just seeps away.

You make progress. You know you do. But most days, it doesn't feel like it. Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy, they both respect you. They appreciate you and your contribution to the team. Carrillo, the Colombian coronel, does too. But other men…they're a little sensitive about having a woman working with them.

They doubt you. They catcall you. They assume you got the job by sleeping with some higher-ups. And it pisses you off. You wanna punch them all, curse them, call them out for the disgusting pigs they are.

But you don't. You keep your calm. You're better than them and you know it—they know it. That's why they're anrgy with you. You threaten them. Your presence, your abilities, make them feel insecure. And that brings you a very much deserved wave of satisfaction.

Every new piece of information you bring in, the prouder you are of yourself. Until you realize Escobar keeps getting farther and farther away from the DEA. He buys and kills his way through life, opening himself a pretty little path, a red carpet rolled out at his feet.

Some days, you're upbeat. You feel you're moments away from catching the drug lords. But other days, you feel like you came down to Colombia for nothing.

Today is one of those days.

Late afternoon, everyone leaving the office after yet another failed raid. The warehouse had been emptied even before the DEA team was on its way there.

There's a mole, you think as you put away files with months’ worth of information. There has to be a mole. Someone is talking. Someone is ratting us out. But who?

You exhale thickly, a dull ache spreading behind your eyes. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck,” you mutter, stressed, annoyed, frustrated.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You grab a file with a big, red stamp on the front that reads deceased—one of your sources just recently killed by sicarios—and aggressively toss it in the trash can. As if that would solve all your issues.

You don't realize he's standing in the office until he sighs. “Tough day, huh?”

You turn around, jumping a little, to find Javier there. He looks almost as pissed as you must look. More, probably. He's already been here for years and Escobar is still running free.

“Understatement,” you mutter, turning away from him. You grab another file, open it. You read the name. Some Francisco something. You grab a large stamp and press it onto the front page so the word deceased is now there in big, bold letters. You toss that into the trash too.

Javier approaches you slowly. You can feel his presence burning behind you, like warm sun on your nape, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Some of us are going for a drink,” he tells you, voice light and casual. “Just in case you wanna join us.”

You turn to him. “Who's going?”

*

Me and you, Javier thinks. Just us.

“Alright, fine. I'm going,” he says, chuckling softly, smoothly. “There's a bar downtown that I like to frequent when I don't have the best days. And you—no offense—but you look like you could use a drink.”

A small smile appears on your lips. He wants to kiss the corner where your mouth curls.

He can see it in your eyes, you're thinking it through. Weighing the decision. Maybe if he tips the scale a little…

“On me,” he adds, giving you a little smirk. “Y'know. Just a little something to take the edge off.”

Your smile broadens and he knows he's succeeded.

“Alright,” you agree. “You're driving.”

You don't have to say it. It's become the default. Even though the embassy finally delivered your own car, Javi keeps driving you to and from work. Unless he knows he's going to have to stay out later or go through with a raid in the middle of the night, he always insists you let him drive you.

You always politely tell him it's fine, that you can do it yourself, but he doesn't want you to do it yourself. He wants to drive you. Wants to have you sitting in the passenger seat of his car. Wants to hear you hum along to the songs on the radio. That's become the highlight of his day—you have become the highlight of his every single fucking day.

And he hates himself for it. What is he thinking? You're half his age, you can do so much better than him. He's broken, tarnished. He doesn't need to drag you down with him.

But the way your eyes light up when you see him. The smiles you give him. The way his name rolls off your tongue.

Good God, how many times has he spent too long in the shower, one hand braced against the cold tiles as the water falls onto his back while his other hand fists his cock? Head down, hair wet, eyes shut tight as he thinks of you, of the way you say his name. Your little skirts and gorgeous eyes. Your soft, sweet lips…

Over and over, he spills his release onto the shower wall, thick white ropes that trickle down the drain. He does it until it hurts, until the warm water runs cold, until there’s no more of his come to spend. And yet, no matter how much he does it, it's never enough.

Nothing is enough. Not cold showers, not jerking off for hours, not sleeping with his usual hookers and imagining you. Nothing does it.

If it's not you, it'll never be enough.

He takes you to a small club. A private, luxurious little place. Both of you are still in your work clothes. He watches you remove your blazer and are left in a pretty top and a skirt. You let your hair down, untuck your blouse from your skirt, and suddenly you look different. You look free. And Javier's heart skips because he now feels like he has the opportunity to take you home. To lead you to his bed. To spread your legs and let himself finally taste you, feel you, fuck you…

He leads you to a booth in a corner, comfortable and a little more private than other tables, and you sit across from each other.

He watches you, saying nothing as you look around, studying your surroundings. Music is playing softly in the background, people are talking, glasses are tinkling. But he can only focus on you.

You turn to him, a small smile on your face, those beautiful eyes almost shining. “So, as a regular here, I bet you know the menu by heart. What drink would you recommend?”

He chuckles. “I like to take my whiskey. Not a big fan of fancy, elaborate drinks.” He eyes you for a second, purposely letting the tension grow. “But I'd suggest you order a piña colada. Something sweet for you sweet, little thing.”

Javier notes the blush that forms on your cheeks and he feels proud of himself. He didn't take it too far, just a small flirtatious comment. And already you're all flustered.

God, the look on your face if he were to fuck you in front of a mirror, if he'd spread your legs to see your wet pussy, if he'd touch you, kiss you…

Fuck.

He starts getting hard, his cock bulging against the seam of his pants. He slightly adjusts his jeans to relieve the pressure a little.

A waitress comes over and takes your order. Your drinks arrive not long after.

“How are you adjusting to life down here?” he asks you, sipping his whiskey. Bitter, cold. Just how he likes it.

You sip your piña colada, removing the little umbrella on it. “Well enough,” you reply. “Only thing I still struggle with is the language a little.”

He nods in understanding even though he speaks Spanish fluently. He grew up with both languages, he hadn't been forced to learn from zero.

“You'll be able to get it,” he assures. “You're a quick learner. If Steve was able to learn, you're certain to nail it.”

You laugh and he chuckles. He likes that too, he realizes. Your laugh, the way the corners of your eyes crinkle, the shine in your gaze, the way the sound resonates from your mouth.

Suddenly it's a little hotter in the club and for the first time in a really long time, Javier feels nervous around a woman.

*

You like the way he looks at you. Those dark eyes taking you in as if he can't afford to miss a single detail about you.

Smiling a little coyly, you take another sip from your piña colada. It's so sweet.

Something sweet for you sweet, little thing.

Butterflies burst in your stomach. You gaze back up at him. He meets your gaze for a moment before looking away.

He reaches for his tie, undoes it with one hand, starts tugging it off.

Good God…

You press your thighs together. The tiniest of gestures and yet he looks so fucking hot doing it.

You wish he'd tie you up with that tie, pinyou to the bed, take what he wants…

Mind out of the gutter, you tell yourself. Mind out of the gutter.

As the night goes on, you both talk about everything and anything. The conversation doesn't dry up. It just flows. It's odd how much chemistry you two have, it's almost like you'd be perfect together.

But you work together. But he's much older. What would people say? What will happen when—if you were ever to be more than coworkers? More than friends?

No, don't think about that. It won't happen. He's just being kind, taking out the new girl to help her. It doesn't mean anything.

But you doubt yourself. The way he's looking at you, those dark eyes, that intense gaze…You could swear there's more to this than mere kindness.

As the night grows darker, the music gets louder. People start moving onto the dance floor, the lights dim. As the sounds rise in volume, you and Javi sit closer to be able to hear one another.

And suddenly everything shifts. Suddenly you're so close, suddenly the atmosphere is different, suddenly you're staring right into his eyes and he's glancing at your lips.

A soft breath leaves you. How many piña coladas have you had? This isn't you thinking, it's not you leaning closer to him. It's someone else, some other girl—confident, bold, she goes after what she wants. It's not something you would do. But this new version of you…

His lips are grazing yours now. You're so, so close to him. You can smell the cigarettes on his breath, can feel the heat of his skin. He smells of cologne and whiskey and smoke and soft musk.

“I was thinking,” you say, voice low, sultry. What's that sound? Is it the music booming or your racing heart? “You should teach me Spanish.”

“Teach you Spanish?” he asks, eyebrows pinching together. He seems confused, unsure about where you're going with this.

You nod. “Yeah. The toughest part is getting my tongue to roll the right way. And I was thinking you could show me…”

His eyes shine with realization. He understands now, you can tell. “Fuck,” he says breathlessly, voice low and thick. “C’mere.”

And then he's kissing you.

His mouth is warm, soft, and he tastes like danger.

One of his hands finds your waist, the other cups the back of your neck to pull you closer. He devours you, lips coercing yours open before his tongue slides in, tasting of whiskey.

When your tongue meets his, he groans quietly, the sound reverberating through you. The hand on your waist tightens its grip, the other one tangling in the hair at the back of your head and tugging slightly.

You gasp. He smirks. Javi pulls you closer until you're just about forced to get on his lap. You're happy to do so, straddling his hips, one hand on the back of the booth sofa to hold you up, the other one cupping his face.

When you lean your weight down on Javier, he groans, a barely-restrained sound that makes you wetter than you already are.

You can feel he's hard, his cock pressing right between your thighs. You get comfortable on his lap, the bulge in his pants right against your clit.

His hands move down to your ass slowly, testing the waters. When you don't complain, he squeezes the supple flesh, groaning into your mouth.

And it's wrong. And you know it's wrong. But you let him.

*

Fuuuuck.

Javier's mind is a blur, his every thought fogged over with the feel of you on top of him.

His cock aches for you. You're on top of him, the feeling of you on his lap is almost enough for him to jizz his pants.

Jesus fucking Christ, you're perfect. All of you is perfect. You feel so much better than he could've ever imagined.

His large hands squeeze your ass and start guiding your movements, making you grind against him. You let out a little sound, a soft, quiet moan and his hips buck up against yours. In response, you whimper, thighs tightening on either side of him.

He keeps guiding you, making you ride him through the fabric of his pants. He can feel the crotch of his jeans grow wet with his precum, his hips starting to move against yours in search of more.

More, more, more.

He wants so much more. He wants to lift up your skirt, move your panties to the side, slide his cock into you. He wants to feel you, your warm, wet pussy clenching around him…

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips. It's not enough. It won't be enough until he fucks you. Properly fucks you.

One of his hands moves from your ass to the side of your thigh, and then between your legs. He plays with the edge of your skirt and then his hand wanders under it.

His calloused fingertips find the fabric of your panties and his cock twitches. He gently teases your folds through your underwear, feeling how wet you are already.

He pulls moan after moan from you, smirking against your mouth, swallowing your every sound.

“Javi,” you whimper, pulling away from his lips to take a heaving breath.

“Shh, angel, you don't everyone to know what we're doing now, do you?”

You shake your head softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Mmm, n-no. I just—Oh, God.”

He pushes your panties aside, rough fingers finding your bare cunt. It's so wet, the coarse hair on your skin soaked.

You jerk at the feeling of his fingers on your pussy and he chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound.

He gathers some of your slick with his middle and index fingers and spreads it all over your cunt, leaving you nice and wet so his thumb can glide over your clit in soft, neat circles.

A string of incoherent words leave you and Javi smiles. He wishes he had you in his bed right now so he could spread your folds with his fingers, look at how wet you are.

But this will have to do for now.

He slides his middle finger into you, his thumb adding more pressure on your clit as he draws mindless shapes on the needy bud.

You rock your hips against his hand, moaning, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That's a good girl, angel,” he whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your neck. “You're doing so well. I'm gonna add another finger, yeah?”

He slides his ring finger into you as well and you throw your head back, gasping softly. He curls his fingers up to find that spot that makes you clench around his digits and he smirks.

The more he fingers you, the wetter you get, the tighter you grip him. “C'mon, angel. Come for me, yeah? Let me give you what you deserve.”

You mewl, nuzzling your face into his neck as he fucks you open with his thick fingers.

“Shh, shh. You're so close, angel. So close. Fuck, I can feel how tight you're getting.”

His words seem to spur you on because you start riding his hand faster, more eager, as if you can't get enough. And then there's a moment where your body seems to pause, your every muscle tensing, your eyes shutting tight, and then you fall over the edge.

Javi watches as you climax, the sight more beautiful than anything he's ever seen in his fucking life. He doesn't want this to be the last time he sees you like this. He'll die if he can't get more of you.

“There you go,” he whispers into your ear, helping you ride out the pleasure. “That's a good girl. Are you alright, angel?” He kisses your jaw, your neck, inhaling your soft scent.

You nod weakly. “Mhm,” you hum, shuddering a little. “‘m fine.”

“Good.” He kisses your lips softly, tasting you. God, the things he wants to do to you. He pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean, his body aching to taste you. You taste so sweet, so gentle, so fucking perfect.

Oh, what's he fucking doing? You're half his age. You're too good for him. He shouldn't be—

Your hands start moving to the front of his pants, palming his throbbing cock through the fabric, and suddenly Javier forgets himself. He forgets everything.

If it's not you, he doesn't care right now. He'll figure it out later. There will be time later.

So he just gives in. Just ignores everything and allows himself this moment with you.

It'll only be once. Just once, he promises himself.

Cross my heart.

Dividers from @cafekitsune! Thank you again for these beautiful dividers!!!

Taglist

@maiyart @cheesepannini @picketniffler

I'm so inspired while writing this omggg I just need this man so much 😭😭😭

I hope you enjoy babes!!! <33333

[mars-mystic]

Hiii Glance is something I hadn't considered before at all, wanna share some of the appeal?

I am very confused but intrigued

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret nonny, follow me. *takes you by the hand and leads you through many well lit corridors, ending with a final door. It is simple, but welcoming, already propped open for you.*

This is where the magic happens. *you step into a room. It is brightly lit, and filled with animate conversation. However, neither George nor Lance is anywhere to be found*

What’s this, you say. I thought you were gonna show me the appeal of glance. *I nod, cryptically*

I am. *as we walk around the room you begin to notice a large group forming around one corner. As we walk by, a massive cheer goes up, turning everybody’s heads*

What was that, you ask.

They did a thing, I say, grinning. We’ll come back once you’ve finished your tour. *we walk around the room in companionable silence, a few eyes on us, watching me, watching you.*

Do you get it now?

It’s just a bunch of people in a room, you say, confused. I wanted the appeal. Tell me about their history, their canon events. Do they even interact at all?

Oh that doesn’t matter, I say with a smile. It’s all about the people. The community. We built this place for ourselves, for our stories. So that we could share them with each other, and you. That’s the appeal. Glance is whatever you want to make of it.

***

Ok but listen up. They do have history. The raced together all the time as kids. They have a rivalry. They were somehow always around each other. They share a birth year. They never talk to each other anymore. Doesn’t it make you curious? Don’t you wonder what happened? What’s going on?

That’s the beauty of glance, how little we know about them. We don’t know their full history, but we know enough to be compelled. The rest is all guesswork babeyy, and it’s FUN. (I’m sure there are people out there who could give you a better idea of their history, but that’s not me. I’m not the historian, I’m the propaganda department).

Their capacity for rivals to lovers is unMATCHED. One sided hatred, one sided rivalries. They are opposites. They are the same. Uptight vs laidback. Cares sooooooo much vs doesn’t give a shit. It shouldn’t work but it DOES.

They are both insane, but in different ways. Insane4Insane. It’s about balance.

***

Shall we peruse the bookshelf? When I got here we only had one (maybe two) pages on ao3. Now we’re at five and counting (let’s go squad!). List is obviously abridged and also woefully incomplete. (I’m not saying this is y’all’s BEST fic (i mean it might be), I’m saying I’m just a girl. Also don’t ask what the categories mean. They are based vaguely on publishing dates but also vibes.

Early works

1. Parallel Players by crimandclove (@parallelplayers). This TOME was my first intro to glance and let me just say… it was convincing. Compelling. Some would say life changing (I would). This is THE glance bible. Pretty sure all of us have drawn at least a little bit of inspo from it for our own fics (I know I have).

2. cheque please by weegreenbean (@weegreenbean)

I would be remiss in talking about glance without mentioning my beloved. Doing god’s work over in strollonso but also over here in glance nation. Shoutout to this one because I read it last night, and it is textbook Early Glance™️. And because you couldn’t pay me to pick a favourite, there are too many to choose from.

3. Kamikaze by pitconfirm (@pitconfirm). Now with sequel. And both make me want to scream. One of the first fics I read when I got here.

4. The Worst Way to Love Somebody is Quietly by LilShiro (@lil-shiro). Ok I also read this one last night. But it’s soooooooooo them.

Post-modern Reformation (or whatever)

1. off-schedule by Anonymous. Always worth a reread. Always making me insane

2. good luck, babe! by Anonymous. Another fic I read last night. This might just be a list of fics I read last night, now that I think of it.

3. Superposition by girlcowboy3 (@girlcowboy3)

4. I tried so hard to remember where, when, why, how- by abovecalamity (@abovecalamity)

Special Notes

- There is an abundance of girl!george and/or girl!lance fics around. I mean… it is rule 63. Only fair. They are ALL amazing, go check them out

- glance is where I first found out about the soulmate goose trope. That was an… odd but fun period in my life.

- some of you guys have a lot to say (which I love), but you only get ONE mention. HOWEVER I would highly recommend clicking on the little author name button and seeing where that gets you.

Thank you for the ask nonny, hope to see you around (whoever you may be). My inbox is open if you ever wanna chat <3

[thezoraprince]

Oranges - Sidon/Bazz/Rivan x reader

HC / writing prompt for whenever you're ready <3 Oranges : I love the thought behind your partner peeling an orange for you. It's simple, sweet, and a little poetic. I think your HCs for our favorite fish boys peeling our oranges would just be perfect! ( I like to think that sense Sidon is so big, he would have a terrible time trying to peel oranges, so he would peel you a grapefruit instead thinking they're basically the same thing, lol )             This prompt can obviously be for anyone, but I'd love to see Sidon and Rivan for myself, and Bazz for Rocky ofc. <3” - @bertie-bats

firstly, i want to say that citrus is toxic to fish, so i’m making that somewhat apply here. i have to :’) i only learned that because i now have a fish who is my whole world <3

anyway, i hope you enjoy!! (i think Rivan's is my favorite lmaooo)

SIDON

big hands and small orange do not mix well

he tries and tries and tries

but every time ends up in a pulpy mess

he’s at the market one day and sees a grapefruit

he thinks ‘…big orange?!’

definitely buys it for you

he forgets to put something over his hands when peeling it

so his fingers start to tingle

but it’s worth it for you

he’ll bring it to you with a smile on his face

not a single negative thought on his mind

“… Sidon, this is not an orange…”

his eyes go wide

“What? But- but I thought…”

you just giggle

i mean

how can you not?

“It’s okay. I promise.”

you make yourself a bowl of sugar to place the grapefruit slices in

which helps a lot

Sidon takes a mental note that oranges are indeed orange

BAZZ

takes his orange peeling VERY seriously

he’s got gloves and he’s ready to go

because despite the citrus fruit making his hands sting

he really wants to do this for you

he’s not one to be SUPER romantic

so honestly the little things are BIG BIG BIG

he’ll bring you the peeled orange on a tray

the slices presented in an aesthetically appealing way

you’d think he’d gone to culinary school

“For you, my darling.”

you’d both sit on the sofa and enjoy some quality time together

and he’s definitely stealing glances while you eat this orange

RIVAN

this man would do anything for you

literally

the chaos that ensues when you ask for something

even something small

is too much for most

but not for you

you’ve learned just how to handle it

but Rivan peeling oranges is another story

he always forgets to wear gloves

and for most Zora, it wouldn’t be too much pain

but Rivan

you’d walk in, seeing this whole display

“… Aren’t you allergic to citrus fruits?”

he’d side eye you

“And?”

he’s not letting that major health concern stop him

he just wants to peel an orange for you to enjoy

and this gets him a day off from training

he just wants to spend time with you

[kamabokotanjiro]

will never stop claiming and insisting that eren and armin, guess what, were in love

[nina-scribbles]

I like to think that being a Black wasn’t all bad.

I like to think that they loved each-other, once.

[jellyfish3s]

killugon are both REALLY autistic and this isn't even something i suppose anymore, that's just true

[felix-the-third]

Todd would drink coffee and Neil would drink tea

[transmascutena]

rgu is not actually very hard to understand, but i do get why it's gotten that reputation. there are certainly things about it that are difficult to wrap your head around, like if you focus a lot on specific symbols. but the emotional core of the story, a narrative about abuse, should be pretty clear to anyone who watches it.

[screambirdscreaming]

At the bus stop one time there was a gaggle of preschoolers waiting to catch the bus for a field trip day, and someone walked past with a couple of friendly little dogs, to great general delight.

But after a little bit, the dogs were getting overwhelmed, and the preschoolers were gently coaxed to back off so the person with the dogs could continue on. Specifically, one of the preschool teachers said, "Sometimes, when you're small, being surrounded by big people can be a bit scary and overwhelming. Even if they are friendly."

This was recieved as great wisdom: after all, the preschoolers were also small, and understood how scary and overwhelming big people could be! And the dogs were indeed even smaller than the preschoolers, so it made sense.

What was funny and charming was that, upon absorbing and reflecting on this wisdom, they all felt the need to tell it to one another. In tones of great insight, they turned to one another and said, "Did you know? Sometimes when you are small, being surrounded by big people can be scary and overwhelming! Even if they are friendly!" Back and forth, without any particular concern that they were all saying the same thing. Have reached comprehension of an insight, it must be shared!

I must say that this behavior is less charming in tumblr users than in preschoolers. Not least because tumblr users, having gained a little analytical skill to misuse, insist on Summarizing and Generalizing and Unifying the insights they repeat, quickly turning any interesting new information into formulaic dogmatic mush.

[artemislosthunter]

also no more outing myself directly to my friends, you will find out about pronoun and name change through the wonders of instagram stories where you talk abt yourself /hj