#This was a lot of links let me know if I got any wrong...

[villadiodatis]

Give it up for the Bad Kids at level 14!

After acing the Last Stand and their junior year, the Bad Kids have gotten a well-deserved level up to 14! Let's see what's in store for them. (As always, my previous recaps for levels 11, 12, and 13 can be found at these links!)

Adaine: Wizard 14. Adaine learns two new 1st-7th level spells (in addition to whatever she's learned from her downtime rolls, which as of this episode is MANY new spells). She also gets her final subclass feature, Greater Portent, which lets her roll 3 portents every long rest (improved from 2). She can also now prepare 19 spells a day (previously 18).

Fabian: Fighter 6/Bard 8 (was Fighter 6/Bard 7). Fabian gets a second 4th-level spell slot and learns a new 1st-4th level spell. In addition, he's increased his charisma by 2, taking it to 20--he is now the most dexterous and most charismatic you can be without magical help! Maximum Legend indeed. With this increase, his modifier goes up to +5, and his spell save DC, attack bonus, and all CHA-based skills (Deception, Intimidation, Performance, Persuasion) go up by one. He can also now use Bardic Inspiration 5 times per short rest, improved from 4.

Fig: Bard 10/Paladin 3/Warlock 1 (was Bard 10/Paladin 2/Warlock 1). Fig has reached her paladin Sacred Oath subclass! We don't know which it is yet (although many people have speculated Devotion), but it will include access to two new spells specific to her oath and two Channel Divinity options, which she can use once per short or long rest. I believe her spell slots remain the same due to multiclass shenanigans, but please correct me if I got that wrong. She also gets Divine Health, which makes her immune to disease.

Gorgug: Barbarian 5/Artificer 9 (was Barbarian 6/Artificer 7). Gorgug continues to swap around barbarian and artificer levels! With this change, he loses Mindless Rage (so he can now be charmed or frightened while raging) and gains an unknown feat, access to 3rd level spells and two 3rd-level spell slots, and an unknown Barbificer subclass feature. (EDIT: I had forgotten he's not a Battle Smith anymore; thanks to @lookin-reproachfully for reminding me!)

Kristen: Cleric 14. Her Destroy Undead ability can now destroy undead creatures of CR3 or lower on a failed save, which includes ghasts, ghouls, poltergeists, and skeletons, although there are a lot of undead Brennan could throw at them. She can also now prepare 19 spells a day (previously 18).

Riz: Rogue 14. We saw Riz put his new feature, Blindsense, to great use this episode! He is now aware of any hidden or invisible creatures within 10 feet of him, as long as he can hear. (Hopefully he can use that against Kipperlilly too…) He also learns one new 1st-3rd level spell, which can be a Wizard spell from any school.

And across the board, everyone's HP goes up and they get another hit die!

One little bonus--this episode, we discovered Kipperlilly is a Mastermind Rogue. An ability of hers that might come in handy is Master of Intrigue--if she has observed a creature for 1 minute, she can "unerringly mimic" their speech patterns and accent. I'll let you all speculate on what she might do with that, and I'll see you all if/when we hit level 15.

[erisenyo]

FANDOM TRUMPS HATE: ATLA OFFERINGS ARE FINALLY HERE!

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Offering fanfics, we have...

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(And if you're not in the ATLA mood--there are SO many fandoms represented in the event, I bet your current hyperfixation is in there :))

[coulsonlives]

.

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[cobragardens]

Notes on the Scene in Job's Basement

Crowley is not tempting Aziraphale here. He's experimenting on him.

Getting Aziraphale to sin, or even getting him drunk, is not Crowley's intent in this scene. Eating food, taking pleasure in food, drinking alcohol, and even being drunk are not sins in most of Judaism or Christianity (and they're certainly not sins in British Christianity, regardless of any church's doctrine). When Aziraphale turns down alcohol, Crowley just suggests he try food instead; so it's not important to Crowley what Aziraphale tries, but it is important to him that he try something.

This scene is also the first time (chronologically) we see that Crowley likes to drink and likes to be drunk.

We know from

and from

as well as from Book Omens and Word of God that angels have no instinct beyond curiosity pulling them toward eating or toward gender. From this we can reasonably presume they have no instinct toward Beverages either.

That means that in this moment--

--Crowley is very likely the only metaphysical entity he knows on either side of the divide, or even knows of, who has ever experienced a physical pleasure.

And he probably has some Lingering Questions about it, like we all did the first time a physical pleasure blew our minds. Like,

Is it this strong for everyone?

Is there something wrong with me?

Am I going to hurt myself if I do this, like, a lot?

And it's not like the poor creature can ask anyone, because the answers for humans aren't necessarily going to apply to him.

So when he sees an opportunity, Crowley gets that one angel he knows who'll talk to him to try a human thing, and then he watches to see if physical pleasure hits the angel as hard as it hit him.

And that's why he looks so creepily pleased when it does.

Apparently it is this strong for everyone and there isn't anything wrong with him. Now he can relax and get sloshed without worrying, and he even has someone to talk to about how rad human stuff is.

A Dip Into Speculation

We know because we're shown this isn't the first time Crowley has gotten drunk that, watching Aziraphale, Crowley understands what he's seeing. I think it's really interesting that Crowley doesn't laugh at Aziraphale at any point during this scene, and he doesn't correct the way he's eating, either.

Maybe it's because this is what it was like for Crowley the first time. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and woke up in a puddle of his own sick. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and didn't wake up at all, and there was Paperwork and he had to get used to a whole new corporation just when he'd got the hang of having legs in the old one. Maybe somebody had to show him how to use a fork or whatever they had going on for eating utensils in Ancient Mesopotamia. I distinctly remember having to learn as a small child to chew with my mouth closed. There is every possibility Crowley doesn't consider the way Aziraphale is eating to be worthy of ridicule because whatever Crowley did the first time was worse.

Maybe he wants to leave Aziraphale set up for later embarrassment over his table manners. Aziraphale was a judgy bitch about the wine.

Or maybe it's something like Let him have this one. There can be rules to it later; let him just enjoy it, once, like a little kid with both fists in their birthday cake.

Maybe it's desire. There is some textual evidence for this. Once Aziraphale learns to eat properly, the way he does it is very attractive, and we know Crowley loves watching him do it.

I don't think it's overreaching even to interpret David Tennant's physical performance of Crowley watching Aziraphale eat as one of sensual or erotic pleasure. I mean--

I'm not saying it absolutely has to be erotic, but it's not a reach, or even a full extension of the elbow, to read it that way.

There's another meta somewhere [I'll link it when I find it again; if you know this meta, please drop it in comments!] that discusses how this exchange in Job's basement is filmed like an erotic scene.

Like Crowley, we all want to kiss this face.

Aziraphale isn't eating prettily, but he's eating lewdly, ravenously, desirously, and it's lit like romantic sex, not like gluttony. Whether that's funny or poignant or hot may depend on the viewer. Here's how Crowley's handling it:

Srs tho, any frame of this scene could have been painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

Or maybe--and this is my favorite of the available interpretations--maybe this is what it was like for Crowley the first time and he doesn't interfere because he wants Aziraphale to come out of this as someone who's had the same experience Crowley's had so Crowley won't be so totally alone in having had it.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

No Nut November ~

a/n. A request by my Patron for the month of November! It was quite the fun one. If you'd like me to write a story for you, please consider joining my Patreon! (link in bio)

Contains : Toji X Fem reader. No nut November antics. Toji being horny. Reader being a tease.

"Fuck-" you cursed, panting heavily as you lied back on the bed, finally getting a break. Your partner, Toji, lied down next to you, half as tired but just as satisfied. He hummed as his muscled relaxed, hot and sweaty from the numerous rounds of sex, completely naked as he got comfortable enough to drift into sleep.

You couldn’t help but frown at him, a bit annoyed at his satisfied and content expression while your body was crying from the over-stimulation. He had taken you over and over and over again, his stamina seemingly never ending as he fucked you multiple times in multiple positions. Even when you complained that you couldn’t take it anymore, he claimed that he’d make you take it. And after he pumped you with several loads of cum, he finally called it a night.

"You- you're such a horndog." you said. The man chuckled, manhandling you to get closer to him, placing you on his chest before giving you a sweet kiss on your hair. “You love it.” He teased, giving your butt a greedy squeeze, making you flinch as he touched the bright red mark he had left on your cheek before. 

This was your routine. Toji and you would go to work, you'd come back home, have dinner together before he took you to the bedroom and gave you the most toe curling, back arching, pussy squirting pleasure you'd ever experienced. The man had a huge dick and a ton of stamina, not going soft unless he's cum multiple times.

And it's amazing it truly is.

But after a while...it becomes a lot. There's only so many times your pussy can take a pounding before she gets sore and it starts to hurt even when you sit down. There's only so many times your nipples can get suckled on before any friction, even from your bra, makes them ache. There's only so many times you can wear a turtleneck before people connect the dots. You tried to say so to Toji, letting him know of your trouble but he either laughed it off, took is as a compliment and continued to fuck you silly regardless.

His desire for you and his constant want to have his hands on you was a big ego boost, but you needed a break and you figured out the perfect way to do it.

“Have you heard of something called No Nut November?” Toji snorted, looking down at you amused, “Sounds stupid. I’m guessing it means you don’t cum in all of November?” “Exactly. It’s an internet challenge. Think you can do it?” He chuckled again, not taking it seriously, “I have a beautiful girlfriend who I can fuck on a daily basis- why would I give that up for a dumb internet challenge?” “Hmm, thought so.” You said, acting unimpressed as you poked his nose, “There's no way you can keep your hands off of me for a month. You don't have the self-control. Why am I not surprised?"

Now, Toji knew what you were doing. You were baiting him, plain and simple. And was he going to fall for it? Of course not... but he didn’t like your tone.

"Wanna bet on that?" he asked.

You tried not to grin, the man falling for your trap hook, line and sinker. There was no way a man as proud as him would not rise to the challenge just to prove you wrong.

“Fine. From tomorrow until the end of December, you can’t cum.” You said, “That means no sex and no jerking off. If you fail, I get to decide when we have sex for at least a month.”

“And if I win, you are going to be my little sex doll I can fuck whenever I want with no complaints.” Toji challenged. You scoffed, more than confident that he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Deal!”

~~~~~

One week had gone by and it was already hell. Toji had to will himself to not drag you into the bedroom every night, the condescending smirk on your face actually giving him motivation to keep going. Ever since he started dating you, sex was a common and daily occurrence so to have it taken away was difficult for him to navigate but he could do this. He was an adult with self-control and he wasn’t a horny teenager who needed to get their rocks off all the time.

But during week two, he wondered if he truly had the self-control he thought he did.

You were not making it easy for him, oh no. You were a naughty little minx and once Toji went by one week with no sex, you realised you needed to make him break. Whether it was make-out sessions with a bit more tongue than you normally use, or ‘forgetting’ to lock the door while you showered so he’d walk in on you naked, or going to bed in nothing but his oversized t-shirt, or asking him to give you a massage and letting out sweet, filthy little moans as he worked out the knots. These small things were piling up, riling the man up even more to the point where in a sweet kiss from you would make his dick hard. You were good. But he wasn’t giving up.

But neither were you. And you decided to ramp it up for week 3.

“…And what are you doing?” Toji asked, looking you up and down and undressing you with his eyes. You were standing by the bedroom door, looking absolutely stunning in a lingerie piece he hadn’t seen before. It was a beautiful lace red piece, the underwear framing your body deliciously. Your tits, your stomach, your ass and the heaven between your legs- all the blood instantly went to his cock just by looking at you.

“Tojiiii~” you cooed, walking over towards him, your hips swaying seductively as you reached him. He was sitting against the headboard of the bed, idly scrolling through his phone but the random video he was watching was all but forgotten as you crawled between his legs. Your tits were practically swinging in front of his face as you straddled him, the man unable to deny you as he placed a hand on your waist, running his fingers over the soft lace.

“I’m so horny, Toji~” you cooed, rubbing your hand up and down his covered chest, “I need you.”

“Nice try.” The man responded, snorting as he flicked your forehead with his other hand, making you gasp, “I know your game here, little minx. You’re not getting me to fuck you.”

“How mean.” You said, pouting adorably and showing off the lip gloss you had put on, “If you’re not interested, then this can probably go on past November-“ “Not a chance.” Toji growled, gripping your waist so tightly it made you gasp, “You know I’m owning that pussy once this month is up. So be a good girl and wait.” “Wait?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, “Why do I have to wait? I’m not doing the stupid challenge.” You smiled at the way Toji’s eyes followed you as you got off of him, bending over in front of him as you reached for a familiar drawer in the bedside table.

“Just because you’re not going to fuck me doesn’t mean I can’t have fun~” you said, holding up your favorite wand vibrator as well as a thick, vibrating dildo. “It’s not as big as you, but it’s good enough~”

  What proceeded was the worst yet best night of Toji’s life. He watched as you pleasured yourself, your sweet moans echoing through the room as you fucked yourself with your toys. With the vibrator rubbing your clit and the dildo sliding in and out of your pussy, you practically gave him a private show. Your lingerie was still on your body but pulled aside to expose your breasts and your cunt, making you look so delicious he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He didn’t dare to touch himself as he helped you along with your session, growling dirty things into your ear as he took over and fucked your cunt with the dildo, working it way better than you could yourself, groaning in delight as he suckled on your nipples as he drove you over the edge.

His dick was so hard it felt like it would explode. But he wouldn’t budge. He wanted to- God he wanted to- but he was going to stay strong. The reward he’d get for sticking with this at the end of the month would feel way better than the momentary pleasure he’d get from rubbing one out. So he stayed strong. Days went by, feeling longer and longer and your antics growing more and more bold. Your masturbation sessions were happening often, you were walking around the house in skimpy clothing, he’d wake up and find that you had ‘accidentally somehow fallen asleep with your face close to his cock’ but try as you might, you couldn’t break him.

He increased the ice-cold showers. He took longer working hours to distract himself. He fingered you so he could remind you of how good he was going to take you once the month was up. Hell, he even took up meditation to try and ease the tension in his body. And finally. Finally. After all that hard work- he made it.

He did it. He actually did it.

He was on the last day of November.

A full month of no sex. No pleasure. No jacking off. His cock hurt and his balls ached so badly, dying for some release and he couldn't wait to get it. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, he was going to take you and pound the shit out of you- fucking you so hard you won't be able to walk for days. He made sure you knew it too. Throughout the day, he was whispering filth to you, growling in your ear and palming his cock in front of you, loving the blush on your face as he detailed all the bad and naughty things he was going to do to you tonight. There was no doubt you felt defeated and after this, he was going to break and punish you.

Just an hour. He could do this. He was going to do this!

He was lounging on the couch of the living room, not focusing on what was on the TV as his mind was occupied with lust when he saw you walk out of their bedroom and upto him.

"How do I look?" you asked, twirling around so he could see your outfit. It was a cute short dress with a pair of leggings and he hummed in approval.  

"You going out?" he asked.

"Yup!" you said, suddenly dragging a suitcase from behind you, "I’m going to my parents’ house."

Toji raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening. What?

What?

"Excuse me?" he asked, watching as you dragged your suitcase over to the door.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention it before." you said casually, clearly ignoring the expression on his face, "Last minute plan- you know how it is."

"Bullshit." the man snarled, walking upto you before slamming his hands on the wall behind you, caging you, "You're just trying to fuck with me, aren't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" you asked, a curious tilt in your tone which told Toji all he needed to know, "I just miss home and I know you have a busy workday tomorrow so I didn’t think you’d want to come. That’s not a problem, is it? I’ll only be there for a week.”

“A week-“ Toji growled, nails digging into his fist as he still cornered you against the wall, “You’re not fucking serious.”

You shrugged, faking innocence, “I mean, is there any reason I shouldn’t go? I have a few days off from work and my mom has been begging me to come by someday. The train leaves in…” you checked your watch, ignoring Toji’s scoffs at your audacity, “thirty minutes. So I better get going-“

“You’re not going anywhere you little brat!” Toji snarled, his patience snapping. There was no way in hell he was going to let you leave and have you been gone for a week. He was confident you were just bluffing but he was not taking that change. With a growl, he bent down and threw you over his shoulder, making you yelp as you were suddenly held upside down. He gave you butt a sharp spank, a slap so hard it made you forget how to breathe for a second before he stormed towards the bedroom.

“Wh- what about the bet?” you asked once he threw you onto the bed, Toji immediately getting undressed as he practically ripped his shirt off.

“Fuck the bet.” He said, grabbing you by the ankles before he pulled you towards him, a feral look in his eyes as he fisted the fabric of your tights, “Fuck No Nut November. And fuck you.”

You gasped as he started tearing apart your tights, the fabric ripping away like paper as all he could think about was fucking you. You could see the imprint of his cock straining against his sweatpants, you man already hot and bothered and eager. Your heart was beating fast in your chest, the excitement over-riding the fact that you were going to win the bet. Once the tights were torn enough and before you could even get a second to complain, he flipped you onto your stomach.

He slid your panties to the side, so desperate for you that he couldn’t be bothered to properly undress you before he grabbed two greedy handfuls of your ass. You mewled under him as he squeezed, the man spreading your cheeks apart before he dove in, face first. You yelped as Toji took a long, rough lick of your pussy, the familiar sensation something you truly missed since the start of the bet. You gasped and moaned as he started feasting on your cunt, his thick tongue sliding into you and working you open, your pussy slowly getting wet for him.

Toji growled against you, the vibration making you feel even better as he got you hot and bothered. His cock was so hard it was genuinely hurting him, the sensation of your pussy against his tongue and the taste of your sweet nectar making him go into overdrive. But even your pussy wasn’t going to make him forget how you pissed him off.

“Mmph- this isn’t for you- got it?” he snarled, smacking your ass once to get your attention, “I’m getting this cunt wet enough to fuck my fat cock deep inside you. I don’t care if you feel good and I don’t give a shit if you cum or not- you’ve gotten enough of that this month.”

“Don’t be- ah- mean.” You protested, gasping as he suddenly pulled away from you and flipped you onto your back again. “Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.” Toji said as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it up harshly, also not caring to take it off completely. All he wanted was access to your tits and once he pulled your bra upto your chin, he got what he wanted. “You’ll see just how mean I can be.”

He took a nipple into his mouth before you could say anything, not wanting to hear anything out of your lips unless it was moans, cries or apologies. He slid his fingers into your panties, his thick digits sliding between your damp pussy lips, the slick sound of the contact echoing through the air. Despite the attitude, he knew you missed him too. Dildos just didn’t compare to him.

He slid a finger inside you, the glide easy due to your wetness as he slowly but thoroughly started stretching you out for his cock. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at it harshly as he suckled on your nipple, his tongue twirling the sensitive bud around before he bit down, making you yelp from the pain. You rocked your hips against his fingers, arching your back as he slid a second one inside you before scissoring you open just how you like it.

“Fuck- good enough.” Toji said, separating from your nipple (which he indeed sucked raw) and gently taking his fingers out of you. He knelt between your legs after he gave you a quick peck on the lips, pushing his pants down to reveal his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, your pussy throbbing as you gazed at the member you practically hadn’t seen all month. It was rock hard and twitching, precum leaking out of the tip that was so red, you wondered if it would burn your tongue if you sucked on it. His balls were always big and heavy and you didn’t know if the time apart muddled your memory a bit but you swore, they were somehow bigger.

  “Spread those fucking legs- show me that pussy.” Toji said, gripping his cock before he started tapping it against your cunt, purposefully targeting your clit and making you tremble from each hit, “Look at that. So needy and dripping even though you fucked yourself on that dildo every other night.”

He spat on your pussy, making you gasp at the vile action but it made your cunt gush even more. He truly was using you like he owned you. His cockhead rubbed at the glob of saliva that was trailing down your cunt before he finally, finally pressed it against your entrance.

“I won’t last long, but I don’t care.” Toji said, rocking his hips lightly as he teased your hole, “You’re here to be my cum dump. You’re here for my pleasure, got it?”

You couldn’t help but he bratty even though every fibre of your being wanted to beg the man to just fuck you already: “Enjoy it since I’m winning this bet~” “Oh, are you sure about that?”

You frowned at his words before your eyes widened and you looked over at the clock to see that…it was midnight. November was officially over. And you had lost.

“That- ah!” you screamed loudly as Toji plunged his cock into you, his girth splitting apart your wet, velvet walls as he pushed into your cunt. He laughed as he got inside you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt your pussy wrap around him, that sweet, amazing feeling of your walls squeezing him greedily. He grabbed your legs by the back of your knees before pushing them upto your chest, catching you in a mating press, driving his cock deep, deep inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck- fuck!” you squealed, the whiplash from realizing you lost to the sensation of your cunt being stuffed full for the first time in a month making your head spin, “I thought- you- fuck!” “Nice try baby.” Toji snarled, body trembling as he got to feel your cunt again, his balls already threatening to spill his seed inside you, “But you’re going to have to try harder- fuck yes- if you wanna beat me~”

He lifted his hips up and thrust into you again, both of you moaning as he stuffed his cock deep inside your delicious cunt. He started picking up the pace, the nasty sound of his balls clapping against your ass was music to his ears as he started using you. This was for him.

“You’re my toy now, understand?” he asked, tightening his hold on your legs and keeping you nice and folded for him, “my sweet little fuck toy that I’m going to use to break every. Single. Fucking. Night!” he thrust harshly at each word, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his cock deliciously slide inside you, truly owning you. You hated to admit it, but you were secretly happy he won. As he pounded into you, you couldn’t help but remember how torturous this month was for you as well.

Sore pussy be damned, you were too addicted to Toji to give him up.

And while you swore you had more time before midnight struck, you were too cock drunk to think about it. Which was good for Toji as he thought ahead and might have changed the timing on the clock to make it a touch faster. But what you didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt you and by the time he was done with you, you’d forget how to count anyway.

[sports-on-sundays]

serious / LN4

Summary: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader - The problem is worse than Lando expected. And Lando is worse at comforting than you expected. Takes place after the Singapore 2023 Grand Prix.

Warnings: GIF is not mine!!!, me possibley being super inaccurate abotut how stuff actually works but it's okay because I was just having fun writing and it's fine, censored cussing, crying/sobbing pushing for intimate things when reader doesn't want to - NO SMUT, screaming, the shock of learning of the death of a loved one, a bit of angst

Requested?: Nope.

Author's Note: I'm currently feeling very affectionate feelings towards Lando. Which means I'm gonna have a lot of desire to write Lando brainrot.

Just as your mother hangs up, you hear your boyfriend's voice practically squeal behind you, "Y/n! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. Why'd you leave early?"

"Lando, I-" you start, but are interrupted by Lando's arms wrapping around you from behind and him exclaiming, "P2, pumpkin! P2!"

That nickname sprouts from a few different factors. One is that it's not an uncommon pet name. Another is that when you first met, your hair had been dyed orange, and you were decked out in papaya from head to toe. And, of course, the fact that anything pumpkin flavoured is just about your favourite food ever is another good reason for the nickname.

But right now, you're not in the mood for pet names. "Lando, that's grea-"

He hugs your middle tighter, resting his chin on your shoulder, muttering, "I'm so disappointed you weren't there to see me... It was so fun..."

Suddenly, you feel guilty. And suddenly, you feel like if you were to start going on about your problems, right now, when Lando is so happy... That would just be wrong. So you, somehow, allow yourself to not even process the news you just got on the phone with your mother, and say softly to Lando, "Oh, that's great...! I... I'm so sorry I didn't see. I would have... I would have loved to." It takes all you have to not let your voice crack. You just have to hope that in the darker lighting, Lando won't be able to notice your tear-stained cheeks.

"It's okay... It was amazing. Carlos got P1, and Lewis P3."

You find a smile, turning around to face him, looking up at him in his eyes, which appear to be a greyish blue in this lighting. They shine in the dimly lit night. You hope yours don't shine as much as his are. Because if yours were shining that much, you know it'd be because of tears.

He strokes your cheek. His defined curls are a little messy, and his hand soft on your skin. He grips your waist gently then, slowly swaying back and forth.

It's a strange feeling. With Lando being so happy at getting P2 in the Singapore Grand Prix alongside his friend Carlos, the joy is just radiating off of him towards you. But you can't accept it. The pain you feel right now is like a shield against letting his good mood rub off on you.

Don't cry.

You should've been there to hug and kiss him as soon as he exited the car. You should've been there to watch him step on that podium and spray that champagne. You should've. You should've. You should've.

You would have loved too. Along with the pain of the news you just received, the regret of not being there to see Lando is too much, crashing down on you.

You start walking, arms linked, to the car. Once you're in and Lando has started driving, you mutter, "We're just going back to the hotel, right?"

"Oh, uh, sure! As long as that's what you want," you boyfriend responds. You feel a sinking feeling. You feel so bad.

"Why? What else did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing really," he shrugs. "It wasn't any real cemented plans. And regardless, you're probably right. It's been a long night. Fun, but exhausting. I'm definitely tired." And, as if just to prove it, he gives a big yawn. You nod, staring ahead at all the streetlights in the lit up night. Because of everyone trying to leave all at once, and the huge amounts of people, unsurprisingly, you're stopped up, and moving pretty slow. You sigh. You just want to get to the hotel to sleep and snuggle your boyfriend as soon as possible. You're not sure how soon as soon as possible could be now, looking at this traffic.

"So, why did you have to leave your seat, anyway?"

You swallow. You honestly were hoping he would've just forgotten about that, in the excitement of his podium. But nope. Of course he didn't. He only remembers things when it shouldn't matter to remember them. But forgets everything important.

"Well, I just had a long... phone call," you respond, surprised that's technically not even a lie. "We were talking about some really complicated stuff. I needed to leave to... talk about it."

"Oh, alright," he nods, completely trusting you. It's sweet how much trust he puts in you.

"Hey, pumpkin, really?" Lando asks, shaking you awake. "Are you alright?"

"Hmmm?" you grunt softly, your eyes fluttering open.

"We're at the hotel. You fell asleep while I was driving there." He helps your tired body out of the car, and you make your way to the hotel room together.

The moment the door clicks behind you and you're inside the hotel room with your boyfriend, he pushes you against the door, making out with you, his hand cupping the nape of your neck.

You feel sick.

He runs his hands in your hair, on your neck, and down your body.

Finally you're the one to pull away, but before you have a change to say a word, Lando leans in and starts speaking. He has such a big mouth- he's always been this way, since you met. He's never able to shut up. "Pumpkin, I can tell you haven't had as much of a good day as I have. Can I share some of my happiness with you?"

He kisses you all down your neck, but it doesn't feel good.

His nickname for you has always been pumpkin. And yours for him has always been 'sunshine' or 'my sunshine'. Whenever you're feeling bad, he always manages to make you feel better. He's like the sunshine to your cloudy day; the light to your darkness.

But now you don't feel it.

"Lando," you breathe. "Can we go to bed now?"

"Hmmm, whyyy?" he whines. "Are you sleepy? Has it been a long day? Do you need your beauty rest?" This lighthearted teasing right now honestly just feeling like insulting. Most of the time it would make you laugh and loosen up. Right now, it doesn't seem to be working.

"Lando," you sigh, shaking your head and stepping away. You stare into his eyes for a few seconds, before turning and slipping into bed. Not facing him.

You feel him standing across the room in silence for a few seconds, before he sighs and murmurs, "M'kay, Y/n. Well, sleep tight. Love you."

You sigh. Ever since the relationship started, he used that word. Love. The first time he said he loved you was on your first date. So because of that, sometimes you wonder when he means it, and when they're just sweet words he uses to try to make you feel better.

Right now, you're not sure which it is.

You sigh, knowing that you have to pretend to be going to sleep, despite the raging of your thoughts that's keeping your body from slumber.

You wake up in the middle of the night, and you feel Lando's arms around you and his body against your back. He just doesn't understand. You sigh again. Even when you turn away from him, he just clings on from behind. He's fast asleep- you can tell by his soft, deep breath on your neck. All cuddled in. With not a care in the world. You sigh again, pressing your cheek against the pillow, clamping your eyes shut tightly, wishing the pain would go away. Wishing you could be happy with Lando's podium. Wishing you could be sleeping just as contently as him.

Your thoughts rage again. It's so strange. The world, so peaceful, but your head, in turmoil. But the sounds outside of your head- Lando's breathing, the heating vent, cars going by outside... You imagine all the happy people. Partying... Whatever they do. You forget.

You suppose there have got to be other people laying awake right now, too, though. Maybe other people with their partner sleeping next to them, but not sleeping next to their partner. You swallow.

Lando, I need you. I need you to help me. Why won't you help me?

"Are you feeling better?" Lando asks as soon as your eyes are fluttering awake the next morning.

You sigh, turning to face him. Him and his beautiful shining eyes in the morning light. "No, I'm not..." you breathe, deciding now that the night is over, it's okay to talk with him now, explain your distress, and be honest. "I'm still not feeling great. Last-"

But he interrupts you.

"Oh, Y/n, then I want to make you feel great..." he says it in a soft, seductive voice that makes you feel just a little sick. He strokes your cheek, before leaning in and slowly caressing your neck with his tongue.

But suddenly, an indescribable rage fills up in you, pushing out the pleasure that was sneaking in, and you push him away. You throw off the white sheets and quickly slip on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from your open suitcase on the floor. Lando is about to say something, but you grab the closest thing to your hand- the television remote- and throw it at him as hard as you can. It's on target, but because of his cursed reflexes he dodges it.

"Y/n-"

But it's your turn to interrupt him. "Lando, stop!" you practically scream, tears starting to fill your eyes. "You don't even care! You don't care! You just want to enjoy my body and celebrate all in the name of 'comforting me'! You're not even asking what the f*cking problem is! You're terrible! Terrible! You're a terrible boyfriend!" Now the tears are coming down in steady streams, and words that you don't even mean- venom- escapes from your mouth:

"Lando, I hate you!"

He looks shocked, and slips out of the bed, holding a hand out to you. He takes a step closer, but you flip him, slip on your slides, and leave the hotel room, slamming the door as hard as you can behind you.

You run away from him, crying the whole time. You go to the completely different side of Singapore. You find a spot to sit and cry, burying your wet eyes in your arms. Soon enough, you call your mother with shaky fingers. She picks up after three rings, saying softly, "Hey, Y/n..."

"Hi, Mum..." you trail off. "So... I'll head back to L- London... As soon as I can..." You're sure that your mother can tell by your voice that you've been crying. Ugly crying. She just sounds tired. Empty. That's kind of how you feel.

"Oh, sweetie," she says softly. "Thank you... I appreciate it... So, so much..."

"I know, Mum," you sigh deeply.

"I forgot to ask this last night just from the shock of it all but... On a slightly brighter note, Lando got second place, right?"

This comment makes you feel mixed. Good because your mother loves you and Lando enough to still look up the results of the Singapore Grand Prix after all the terrible tragedy that was just dropped on their family last night, especially since she doesn't even like Formula One. But anger at the mention of Lando himself.

You almost forget to respond. "Oh, right, yeah. He did... He's... happy about that. U-hm, so yeah, we'll leave Singapore as soon as possible and get back to London... And... yeah. We can deal with... everything."

"Yes..." your mother sniffs. "Right. Thank you... I should let you go now... Bye, I love you..."

"I love you too, Mum," you murmur, and then she hangs up. Your phone goes back to your contacts, and your eyes rest upon your brother's contacts. A slight desire to see what your last text conversation was raises up in you, but you fight it, shaking your head. You can't. You feel your eyes sprout tears again. And then your eyes linger on Lando's contact. He's sent messages to you, but you've ignored them. He tried calling once, but maybe didn't try again because he figured it was a long cause.

I need you, Lando. I'm broken. Your eyes linger again on your brother's contact. He's gone. How can he be gone that fast? You swallow, your world spinning around you, as if at any moment it will all just crumble down. Lando, I need to feel your strong arms. I need you. I need to tell you. Please. I need to feel your arms, because I'll never feel his arms around me ever again... You let out a soft sob, pulling at your tangled hair, shaking your head. Your whole body is shaking. Lando, I need you. So why don't you care? Why?

Why are you so selfish?

You're not sure how much time passes. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Either way, it's too much to be basking in this agony...

Suddenly, your phone rings.

You're relieved to see it's not Lando, but instead it's...

Oscar?

You only got his number because you needed to text him about something a couple months ago- you honestly don't even remember what it was, it was so unimportant. You have a policy generally of not texting other guys, since you're in a relationship. But in confusion, you answer it, and speak softly, not wanting it to sound like you've been crying. "Oscar?"

"Y/n," he says.

"What's up?"

"Where are you? W-"

"Did Lando tell you to call me?"

He sighs, and after a few seconds of hesitation, says, "Listen, Y/n. Lando's worried sick. He's practically pulling out his hair. If you'd've heard all the stuff he's rambling about..."

"What's he rambling about?"

"He's sorry, he didn't know, he needs you back. You know. He's nervous. He's getting way too nervous, though, talking about you breaking up. He still hasn't told me what happened, though."

"So he told you to call me?"

"No. I called you because I and everyone else is sick of Lando's stressing. So if you would kindly come back and comfort your boyfr-"

You know there's a teasing aspect in Oscar's voice, and you know it's just because he doesn't understand, but you still feel anger raise up within you because of it. "He should be the one comforting me!" you snap, your voice cracking.

There's a few seconds of silence, before Oscar says much gentler and softer, "Are you okay, Y/n?"

"No, I'm not okay! And Lando doesn't f*cking care, either!" Deep down, you know you shouldn't talk to Oscar like this, considering you don't even know each other that well, but it just feels like you can't hold your painful words back.

"Uh... One moment, please..." You wait a few seconds in confusion, before Oscar says, "Lando wants to talk to you."

"Oscar n-"

"Y/n," Lando's voice says over the phone.

Just the sound of him saying your name like that hits you in the heart like an arrow and causes you to start to bleed.

Just the sound of his voice saying your name.

"Lando..." you say, not even sure what to feel.

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just please come back. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?"

You hesitate. "I'm just sitting on a street corner..."

"Y/n, it's been hours!" he exclaims.

"Really?" you ask, genuinely numb and unaware.

"Yes! Please, come back to the hotel! I'm here waiting for you... We just... We need to talk. Obviously, we need to talk."

You swallow, a pit rising in your stomach. Your voice cracks as you say, "Lando, you..."

"I what?" he asks softly.

"Nothing..."

"Are you okay? Would you rather me come and get you?"

"No... I'll just come back to the hotel myself... And tell Oscar thank you."

"For what?"

"I don't know..." you shake your head, standing up. "Just tell him thank you."

"O... Okay. Um, well, see you soon, pumpkin. Bye."

"Bye, I..." Your voice trails off. You're so used to finishing that sentence in a certain way, but now...?

But now Lando finishes it for you. "...love you." And he hangs up.

You run to the bus stop.

The moment Lando sees you, he runs to you and envelopes you in a tight hug. You bury your face in his soft shoulder, and can no longer keep yourself from bursting into tears.

"Y/n, Y/n..." he breathes, stroking your hair. He leads you into the building and you step into the family bathroom for a little bit of privacy.

Quickly, you pull yourself together, taking a step back from him, looking up into his eyes. He looks back at you, and the twos words come from his lips: "I'm sorry."

You swallow. "For what?"

"I don't know what's wrong, but clearly it's worse than I thought... I was just so happy, and I figured if I could just make you feel better... But I went about it in the whole wrong way... I... I'm sorry, Y/n." He gently takes both your hands.

"Lando, I'm sorry, too..." you sigh. "Something... something terrible happened, and I just couldn't control my emotions, so I screamed at you and said... I said things that aren't even true. Lando, I... I don't hate you. I love you."

He seems slightly relieved, and gently rubs his thumb over your knuckles. "Why haven't you told me what's wrong?"

"Last night, I didn't want to, because I didn't want to ruin your moment of getting P2. Then this morning when I was about to tell you, you wouldn't let me..."

"Y/n," he breathes. "I know and I'm... I'm so sorry. I'll try harder. I'm so, so sorry. Can you... Can you tell me what's wrong now? I'm ready to comfort you now. I'm ready to quit being selfish now."

You look into his eyes for a few moment, before looking down, wiping the tears at your eyes before they even come. A part of you always wonders which of his words are fabricated and which ones are from the heart. "Last night, I left because my mother was speaking with me about something very serious on the phone..."

He looks at you with concerned eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak, only understanding now how serious this is.

You hesitate, before uttering, "Last night my older brother passed away."

Lando looks stricken, with wide, shocked eyes. His hands in yours start to tremble. It's like he's paralyzed.

Kind of like how you felt last night. In total shock.

Lando knew your brother. Not well, but he had met him. Your brother had teased him about McLaren, because he was just about the biggest RedBull fan around. He had teased him and treated him like a younger brother. And not only that, but you've talked about your brother a lot. Different, funny things he's always done, or a foolish story about him that you knew would make Lando laugh. Just nice things. You never spoke bad about your brother. But you spoke about him a lot.

Because you loved him.

It's terrible to think that now you're going to be speaking about him with 'was' and 'did' instead of 'is' and 'does'.

And then, Lando hugs you. It's warm. After a few moments, he slips his hands down under your thighs and picks you up. And he just holds you. Your tears are coming back, but you let them come.

"Now we have to plan the funeral and it's going to be so hard... Lando, I can't do this, but my mother needs help... As soon as we get back to London, I'm going to see her," you breathe, clinging to him.

He nods. "Would you like me to come with you, or would you prefer to go to see her alone?"

You shrug, shaking. "I don't know, Lando... Just... Just hold me..." You're holding the back of his shirt so tight. "You're all I need right now."

He kisses your cheek very gently, and does just that. But then he starts whispering. He whispers about random things, like the picnic we had the other day, or about how your favorite football team is doing. It's like he's reminding you- no matter what, the world is still spinning, and somehow, we're both still living humans who are going to be alright. "Y/n, I'm going to do everything for you, okay? Everything you need. I'm going to be there and help you when you need it. Because we're here for each other. We always will be. It's going to be okay, alright? I know it feels like your world is falling apart right now, but I've got you, and it's going to be okay in the end. Okay? Because I love you too much, and I'm going to help you through this."

I sniff. "Why couldn't you be like this right off the bat...?" I murmur.

"Be like what?" he asks in concern.

You sigh. "Why couldn't you comfort me like this right off the bat."

"Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn't know-"

"I didn't know you were able of comforting! I just thought it was something you couldn't do or something!"

You can see Lando swallow. "Y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't know... I'll try harder to-"

"It's fine," you breathe, shaking your head, although you're not sure how fine it really is, before leaning your head on his shoulder, sniffling.

He sighs big, obviously burdened. He kisses your cheek again. "Are you ready to head, then...? Or do you need more time...?"

"We have a long flight," you sigh. "We should get going now..."

Lando gently, slowly, slips you back down onto your feet. He strokes your hair, his face close to yours, looking into your eyes. "I'm here for you, okay?"

You nod, mopping up your wet, salty eyes with a paper towel. It's your turn to kiss his cheek now. "I understand, Lando. And I... forgive you. And I love that you forgive me, too."

"Of course I do," he says, exiting the bathroom, grabbing your hand. He puts his hood up and his sunglasses on. "I love you, pumpkin, okay?"

You sigh shakily, giving his hand a squeeze. "I... I love you, too... my sunshine."

[copper-16]

did she feel better than me?

A continuation/parallel of girlgenius1111's work titled "do you want my attention?"

Mapi makes the decision to rile Ingrid up with the help of Alexia's girlfriend. And she gets exactly what she wants...in due time.

[A/N: My brain simply couldn’t get out of its head what Mapi and Ingrid did after Alexia and r left the club, so I reached out to girlgenius1111 and got permission to write about the same story but from Ingrid and Mapi’s perspective! Please, please go read their fic first mostly because it is phenomenal and also a little bit because this will make more sense if you have read that first - I have it linked at the bottom of this!

This is literally eight thousand words of sex. I'm normally a pretty vanilla person (nothing wrong with that yk just personal preference!) so this isn’t the spiciest or craziest thing in the world by any means, but it's still spice and not much else.

Also I couldn't make up my mind about who would be more possessive over who so this is giving major switch energy...I plead the fifth I'm indecisive!]

The thing was that the last few weeks had been hectic, to say the least. The schedule for Barcelona was packed with league matches combined with Champions League games to be played, and then for Ingrid, national team camp only added to that already frantic schedule. 

But Mapi was still not playing for her national team, which meant that she had been left with two weeks to herself before Ingrid had gotten home that Sunday, just a few nights ago. 

Two weeks to miss Ingrid. 

Two weeks to miss…certain things about her. Two weeks of waking up alone and going to bed by herself, left with far too much time to imagine exactly all the ways she wanted the Norwegian. 

Mapi wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was getting a little bit desperate. It had been weeks since they had done anything really, and this past week she could feel herself getting wet just when the Norwegian looked at her a little hard while they were with the team. 

The week leading up to their Friday game was a lot, with a Champions League game on Tuesday and added practices considering that they had the upcoming weekend off. Ingrid had arrived back from Oslo late on Sunday night, and with the chaos of the schedule, they hadn’t had time to do anything other than a hot makeout session before leaving for training one morning, which had left Mapi more wrecked and wet than she cared to admit. 

Between herself and the other girls on the team, they managed to wear Alexia and the captains down to the point where they all agreed to go out to the club after the Friday game. It was a surprising move from the Barcelona captain, but when she takes one look at her girlfriend’s outfit, at the way her eyes paused at the lace covered chest, at the way it pulled across taut and supple skin, all of the girls can’t help but smirk in understanding at one another. 

Mapi had dressed the part as well, knowing exactly what she wanted to come out of this night. She had days, weeks really, to come up with the perfect plan, and she wasn’t going to let this night go to waste without completing it. She had on black leather pants that she knew made her ass look good, and a maroon corset top cinched over her chest. 

Ingrid was wearing a sapphire colored crop top coupled with a pair of black jeans that Mapi couldn’t stop staring at as they walked into the club. But she needed to focus, she had a plan to complete and it wasn’t Ingrid who needed to agree to it in order for it to work. No sooner had they made it through the door than the defender was pulling their teammate toward the bar, Ingrid and Alexia watching their respective girlfriends go with raised eyebrows, already slightly suspicious. 

But the two taller women say nothing, getting a table before they all order their drinks. Ingrid can’t help but look surprised when Alexia orders a gin and tonic, after the Norwegian had rattled off her request for a negroni. 

“Drinking tonight, Ale?” The dark haired midfielder asked, clearly more than a little amused. But Alexia just scowled, her gaze not meeting Ingrid’s, but rather still trained toward the bar, where Mapi and her girlfriend were standing, clearly in conversation. 

“I feel like the night calls for it,” Alexia murmured carefully as the two Barcelona players turn back toward the table where their partners are, both of their girlfriends greeting them warmly. 

The two women stand at the table for maybe thirty seconds before they are headed toward the dance floor, a pair of hazel and green eyes tracking their every move. Caro and Patri could only watch in complete amusement as Alexia and Ingrid don’t even bother to try conversing anymore, simply too enamored with their respective girlfriend to care about trying to seem civilized. None of the women at the table are dancers per say, but the two midfielders are staring at their girlfriends like they might be considering it, given how aggressively their eyes are tracking the women.   

Alexia, surprisingly, seemed to have less restraint than Ingrid for once, the Spaniards hand gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles were beginning to turn white. When her girlfriend turned toward her, her ass pressed back into Mapi, the captain shakes her head slightly, but she only receives a nod that looks suspiciously like a smile in response. 

Ingrid was slightly more composed than her fellow midfielder, but it still wasn’t hard to spot the fact that she was staring at Mapi, her gaze intent. The club was busy, and it was a gay club, so to say that the two dancers had eyes on them would have been an understatement, but they only had eyes for their respective partner, too busy trying to make them jealous to notice the abundance of women watching them. 

It’s when Mapi’s hand reaches around to practically palm at her teammate's chest as she turns her head into her hair to speak to her in such an intimate way that Alexia finally snaps, Ingrid right along with her. In reality, the top of her thumb only made it far enough up to graze at the underside of her chest, but that feels like semantics to the Barcelona midfielders right now. 

“Come to dance?” Alexia is asked by her girlfriend as she presses into their space, and the blonde looks nearly murderous. Ingrid isn’t really paying attention to them though, far too focused on letting her eyes rove up and down Maria, who is pointedly choosing not to look at her in favor of the discussion, or rather lack thereof, that is happening in front of them. 

“I think we’ve had enough dancing,” the Spaniard grits out as she pulls her girlfriend flush with her side, not even bothering with a goodbye before the two are moving through the club, leaving the Spaniard and Norwegian alone. 

It’s only at this point that Mapi finally lets her eyes meet Ingrid, and she can’t help but bite her lip to force back a whimper at the look that Ingrid is giving her, at the intensity of it. She entirely misses the way that a triumphant smile is thrown back at her by her teammate, clearly thrilled that their plan has worked, in favor of holding Ingrid’s green eyes, which could only be described as smoldering. 

She was completely entranced, didn’t even care about the fact that everyone around them was dancing, can’t do anything but hold Ingrid’s gaze, can’t tear her eyes away from the green ones watching her so closely. 

It’s only when Ingrid looks away, clearing her throat lightly that Mapi feels herself suck in a breath, unaware that she had even been holding it to begin with. 

“Dance?” Ingrid asks lightly, her tone too innocent and unassuming given the circumstances. It honestly throws the defender for a loop, but she chooses to follow along. She expected for Ingrid to get possessive in the way that Alexia had, but it’s clear that the Norwegian is playing a bit longer of a game then the blonde captain had been able to manage. 

“Sure,” Mapi acquiesces, and Ingrid turns on a dime, pressing her entire body back into the Spaniard, who grips it with ease. They’ve been together for long enough to know each other's bodies well, perhaps even better than their own. 

And still, Ingrid pressed against her feels like the most natural thing in the world for the brunette. Dancing to make their respective girlfriends jealous was fine if not a bit awkward, tense and tight, the knowledge that neither of them really wanted to be doing it other than to make someone jealous, not allowing them to really enjoy it. 

But it isn’t like that with the Norwegian, quite the opposite in fact. Her hips move in time with Mapi, her back completely flush with the Spaniard’s front. The brunette’s hands reach around to grasp at Ingrid’s hips, pulling her impossibly closer as she ground into the dark haired woman, trying not to let out a whimper when the Norwegian arched her back. 

They’ve been dancing together for a few minutes when Ingrid finally places one of her hands over Mapi’s, pulling it up and over her stomach and chest, reminiscent of something that the Spaniard did just a few minutes ago with another woman. 

Mapi swallowed as Ingrid brought her hand up high and higher, until it was fully on top of her right breast, and she squeezed Mapi’s hand lightly, the defender's hand pressed under the midfielders meaning that she ended up gently kneading the Norwegian’s chest at the action. The Spaniard lets out a harsh breath at the feeling, at the action itself but also the publicity of it. 

Ingrid loved her girlfriend very much, but she admittedly was no longer huge on such sexual public displays. And it had been months since she was this forward in public, and it was turning Mapi on so much that it was practically painful. She remembered the early days of their relationship, when she had been so attracted and desperate for the defender that they couldn’t even make it home, but rather had to fuck in the club bathroom, the Norwegian’s hand clamped over her mouth to keep her from getting them caught.

Alexia’s jealousy might have burned hot and bright, but Ingrid’s simmered. It continued even when Mapi’s hands were all over her body in wildly inappropriate ways, low and threatening, more contained but no less deadly when it finally did strike. 

Ingrid threw her head back on Mapi’s shoulder, her back once again arching as she tilted her head toward the Spaniard, her nose brushing against the defender's neck before she spoke. Her voice was thick and low, and Mapi felt her legs involuntarily clench together at the feeling. But the words out of her mouth are ones that the brunette wasn’t expecting, and it causes her to do a bit of a double take. 

“Did she feel better than me?” Ingrid husks, and Mapi stills against her, her expression jumping in surprise. It seemed like an outrageous question, with the simplest of answers. 

Never.

“What?” She asks, the surprise evident in her tone. It’s at this that Ingrid pulls away entirely, spinning around until her front is pressed into Mapi’s, their chests pressed together as she looks at the defender, their faces barely inches apart. It’s then that the Spaniard sees the jealousy, painted into the lines of her girlfriend's face. 

“I said. Did. She. Feel. Better. Than. Me?” Ingrid spits out, each individual word holding a note of malice, and Mapi’s eyes narrow as she presses further into Ingrid, their lips brushing together, not caring who saw them. 

“No.” Mapi answers plainly, because it’s an answer that doesn’t need to be undressed to be completely true. 

“Prove it,” Ingrid snaps in response, and one of Mapi’s eyebrows lifts in surprise at her tone, but she pulls back slightly before nodding, grabbing the Norwegian’s hand and intending to lead them toward the exit, when the midfielder changes their direction, headed toward the bathrooms instead. 

“Not there. Here. Right now,” Ingrid insists, and Mapi genuinely can’t believe that she’s hearing these words come out of her girlfriend's mouth, but she also doesn’t complain in the slightest. If anything, it’s more of a relief to know that the Norwegian still wants her this much, in this way. Not that Mapi doubted that very often, but occasionally when times like these last few weeks occurred, it was an inevitability. 

Ingrid and Mapi had been together for nearly two years now, and the Spaniard sometimes wondered if she would ever grow tired of this, if their sex life would ever become boring. It was what had scared her about a long term relationship, but she found that the more that she grew to love Ingrid, the more she grew to enjoy and find the fun with experimenting in their relationship. She felt safe to let go, and not like she was contained in the ways she thought a relationship would bring. 

Two years later, and there’s nobody else Mapi would ever fuck in a club bathroom, on the side of the road, in a bed, against the kitchen counter, anywhere, than whereever she was with Ingrid. 

Ingrid leads them back toward the bathrooms of the club with little fanfare. There are separate rooms, two for the men and two for the women. The midfielder drags the two of them to the last one, all but shoving Mapi in the door and stepping in after her, clicking the lock shut before she’s on the Spaniard, pressing her back into the wall as their mouths finally meet. 

The kiss is hot and desperate and needy, Ingrid’s mouth hard against Mapi’s, swallowing the light moan that the Spaniard lets out at the feeling of Ingrid’s body pressed so close to hers. The Norwegian leans back just far enough to splay one of her hands on the defender's abdomen, her lips moving down toward Mapi’s neck. 

The brunette can’t help the whine that slips past her lips when Ingrid nips at her neck, and she can feel the way that the dark haired woman smiles against her skin as she soothes it with her tongue. Her mouth is insistent and unwavering in its path, kissing anywhere and everywhere as a litany of tiny breathy noises slips past the defenders lips. She moves up Mapi’s neck rapidly, before pulling back so that her mouth is right next to the Spaniard's ear. 

“You know how much I love to hear how much you want me, but you’re going to get us caught Maria,” Ingrid murmurs before she returns to Mapi’s neck, her movements now languid and relaxed, a sharp contrast to the mildly frantic nature of her kisses before she stopped. 

Mapi squirms uncomfortably, the ache between her legs growing hard to ignore. She can’t remember the last time she was this turned on, the last time she wanted Ingrid this badly. The brunette had a bit of a reputation for being rather voracious when it came to sex, and today was no different. 

But the Norwegian is merciful, if only for the fact that she is equally as desperate, her hand descending rapidly south, her nimble fingers popping the button of Mapi’s pants before she pulls the leather down with a sharp tug. The midfielder managed to get the material to Mapi’s mid thigh, and that's really all the space she needs in honesty. 

Ingrid cups the Spaniard over her underwear, letting out a harsh breath at how wet she found the fabric under her. Her expression told a different story, and when Mapi managed to work her eyes open she found a frown written across Ingrid’s face, one that made her pause, just slightly. 

She’s about to ask Ingrid what’s wrong when without any warning whatsoever the midfielder shoves the brunette’s underwear to the side, sinking two fingers into the wet heat she finds between Mapi’s thighs. 

The defender muffles her sharp cry with a hand to her mouth, her eyes slamming shut as stars practically erupt before her closed eyelids. Between the combination of dancing, the fact that it’s been weeks, and the stretch of two fingers right from the get go, Mapi is already painfully close. 

Ingrid moves her fingers achingly slowly, and Mapi lets a little mewl past her fingers that has the Norwegian looking up at her sharply, clearly unimpressed. She clamps her hand over her mouth once more, her hips rutting down, chasing the light friction she’s being given. 

It doesn’t really matter though. She’s so turned on that if Ingrid asked her to come, she probably would. It’s not going to take much. 

Mapi knows it. 

Ingrid knows it. 

But the midfielder is still slightly desperate to drag this on despite the circumstances, so she continues with her bitterly slow pace as she looks Mapi in the eyes, her face tilted as she asks her the question. 

“Would her fingers have felt better? Is it her who you imagine when I’m inside of you?” Ingrid taunts, the anger clear in her tone. 

Mapi was hers, and hers alone. 

She didn’t share. 

“No, god no,” Mapi gasps out as Ingrid picks up her pace, faster and faster and faster until the Spaniard is gripping at her shoulders tightly, chasing the pleasure to the ends of the earth. 

“Who is it you want then?” Ingrid husks, and the sound of her voice combined with the relentless pace is the thing that sends Mapi over the edge out of nowhere, a loud moan spilling out of her mouth as the coil within her snaps. 

“You!” The defender moans out as her back arches into Ingrid, making a complete mess of her underwear as her body shakes and Ingrid grips her tightly. The Norwegian had to admit that she had been expecting the orgasm, but not for it to happen so quickly or quite so pornographically in nature, but she isn’t complaining. She simply holds her girlfriend as she comes down from her high, knowing what her next move is but also not wanting to be completely inconsiderate. 

It’s only when Mapi’s body fully relaxes back into the wall that Ingrid slips out of her, walking over to the paper towel holder and cleaning her fingers before she moves toward the door. 

“Car. Now.” Ingrid doesn’t even bother with full sentences, instead making her intention perfectly clear with two singular words. The Spaniard is quick to pull her pants up and button them, following the Norwegian out of the bathroom stall and to the car, where Ingrid slipped into the driver's seat. She had only had a few sips of her negroni, and didn’t even feel tipsy beyond the slight headiness of getting Maria off. 

Speaking of, the defender had sat down in the car and barely closed her door before Ingrid was pulling away from the curb. Once they had gotten onto the road, the midfielder slid her right hand over, placing it as far up as she possibly could on Mapi’s thigh. The dark haired woman shows no evidence of being affected, compared to the brunette, who whimpers slightly as she shifts in her seat, moving toward Ingrid imperceptibly. 

Despite the fact that she’s already had an orgasm, Mapi still feels desperate. She was hoping that coming would help to satiate her, but it seems to have only done the opposite. She needs Ingrid twice as much as she did at the club, and she’s fighting to sit still in her seat and not suggest they pull over for a repeat of the club, but on the side of the road. 

And Ingrid is absolutely no help. Mapi isn’t sure if her desperation is all that transparent or if Ingrid is egging her on, but halfway through the drive she begins to rub tiny circles into the skin of Mapi’s inner thigh. It’s over the leather of her pants, but it’s still enough for the Spaniard to bite her lip to keep from letting out a grunt of frustration. 

Mapi is so desperate in fact, that when Ingrid finally pulls the car up to their parking spot, she doesn’t even bother with allowing the Norwegian to get out of the car. She simply climbs over the center console, pressing down to shift Ingrid’s seat all the way back before she lands squarely in her lap. It’s a tight fit, but she honestly doesn’t give a flying fuck. 

The defender wastes absolutely no time, gripping Ingrid’s face in her hands as she smashes their lips together in a searing kiss. Ingrid’s hands fly up to hold the Spaniard’s side, keeping her body flush with the Norwegian in the cramped car.

But Mapi doesn’t care, she simply presses her lips to Ingrid’s again and again and again, teeth clashing and thirst unquenchable as she slips her tongue into the midfielders mouth. She can’t help the grunt that shoves itself out when Ingrid slides her hands lower, palming at Mapi’s ass over the leather of her pants. The defender grinds down into Ingrid, even with how cramped her legs are, chasing any, any kind of friction. 

Ingrid somehow manages to work one of her knees toward Mapi, so when the Spaniard grinds down again she is hit with an actual surface to grind against, and she tips her head back in an unabashed moan. 

“Come on Maria, come for me,” Ingrid encourages, not expecting for much to happen from it. They’ve hardly done anything, and it’s nothing but a little bit of dirty grinding. They haven’t even lost any of their clothes yet. 

But it only takes a few desperate movements from the brunette, directed in pace by Ingrid’s hands which are still on her ass, for Mapi’s head to fall back once more, her mouth opening in a silent cry as she crashes over the edge, Ingrid staring at her with wide eyes. It wasn’t a big orgasm, and it wasn’t really satisfying in the way that the defender desperately needed, but it was still an orgasm nonetheless. 

The Norwegian couldn’t help but be surprised. Between the orgasm in the club and now one here in the car, she was starting to understand perhaps why Mapi had done the things in the club that she had. It didn’t excuse them, but she understood it now, at least. 

And if she really was this desperate, then Ingrid was determined to give her exactly what she needed. Not without a little bit of teasing, however. 

Ingrid leans over to pop her car door open, taking a moment to look at the foggy windows of her car before Mapi was stepping off of her and out toward their apartment, Ingrid following her quickly. 

Mapi kept her head angled away from Ingrid, more than a little embarrassed about her now two orgasms. She knew she seemed desperate, but she really wished that she had more resolve than this. She wasn’t sure what Ingrid was thinking after that last orgasm, and her cheeks remained flush with embarrassment as they came to their front door. The Norwegian unlocked it for them before she held the door for her girlfriend, who still refused to meet her eyes. 

Mapi tried to move past the entryway, but Ingrid wouldn’t let her. The midfielder grasped the defender's wrist, forcing her to turn around to face her. 

“Maria?” Ingrid asked lightly, her tone a complete contrast to the entire night thus far. Now that the defender won’t even meet her eyeline, she needs to understand what is actually going on here. “What’s going on?” 

Mapi shrugs, pulling her arm back to herself before she offers a half assed answer. 

“I don’t know. It’s been awhile,” she commented off handedly, and Ingrid felt understanding begin to wash over her as she took Maria in. The flush of her cheeks, the way she was shifting from foot to foot, how she refused to meet the midfielder’s eyes after the orgasm in the car. 

“Are you a little needy, corazon?” Ingrid asked, her voice low and thick, and Mapi looked up to find that the same fire that burned deep within her was mirrored back at her in the Norwegian’s eyes. 

The shame she had felt walking back from the car melted away as she nodded, swallowing roughly. Ingrid had this uncanny ability to make her feel incredibly seen, even in instances like this, right now. 

“Yes. For you, and only you,” Mapi adds the last sentence at the last second, and just as she hoped that it would, Ingrid’s face twisted into a satisfied smirk as she moved toward the Spaniard. The midfielder decides in that moment to take a bit of a different approach than what she had originally planned on. Because as much as Mapi had missed Ingrid, the Norwegian had missed the Spaniard just as much. Getting herself off in an empty hotel room devoid of the defender was no match to the real thing standing here in front of her. To the muscled and tattooed form she knew was hiding under all of that clothing, the soft peaks accompanied by taut and muscled valleys of her tan, tattooed skin. 

So she decides to go about this in a way that will satisfy both of them, eventually . 

“There’s other ways to get my attention than to put your hands all over another woman, you know that Maria?” Ingrid muses, her tone unserious but her words far more goading than Mapi had expected, and the brunette rushes to explain herself. 

“I didn’t–” Mapi starts, only for Ingrid to press her back into the wall, her face inches from the defenders, once again. Her words are low and dripping with sex appeal, and if Mapi’s underwear weren’t already completely ruined it would be now. 

“If you need me to fuck you, you tell me. Because you’re mine, and I don’t share with anyone, not our teammates, not the needy women at the club who eyefuck you, nobody.” Ingrid presses two of her fingers into the entrance of Mapi’s mouth, the Spaniards jaw slackening to allow for her to take the middle and ring finger of the midfielder into her mouth. Ingrid doesn't need to tell her for Mapi to know that she is supposed to suck, and that’s exactly what she does, her eyes never leaving Ingrid’s as she rolls her tongue over and over again. 

Ingrid removes her fingers from Mapi’s mouth before she quickly steps out of her jeans, shucking off her pants and underwear before she slips her top off, and Mapi is rewarded with the sight of her bare chest. 

Mapi follows suit, tugging her leather pants down before she undoes the tie of her corset top, tearing it off her skin, not caring if she ripped the stitching. She reaches back to unclip her bra, discarding it on the ground with little care as she returns to look at Ingrid. 

But what she finds surprises her, because out of all the options she would have counted on, to look back and find her girlfriend touching herself was not one that Mapi was prepared for. Ingrid is pressed up against the opposite wall, her hand moving over her clit in small, tight circles as she breathes harshly, and it fills Mapi with a flare of jealousy, one that Ingrid immediately clocks, a smirk on her face before she opens her mouth to let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh what? You want to help get me off, not her?” Ingrid asks lightly, her hips canting down slightly as her fingers speed up, and Mapi practically growls at the implication, her hands tightening into a fist. But Ingrid isn’t done yet, instead continuing to provoke her girlfriend, obsessed with the way that Maria is looking at her, all protective and filled with want. 

“We could always call Alexia. I’m sure she would have no problem fucking me into next Tuesday if I asked,” Ingrid hums lightly, and the Spaniard’s lips pulled back in a snarl at the thought, suddenly feeling even more territorial. It’s that comment that finally snaps her restraint, and she charges across the hallway, shoving Ingrid’s fingers away from herself so that she can replace them with her own. The thought of Alexia having Ingrid like this, of anyone but her having Ingrid like this is enough to make her shudder with poorly concealed jealousy.  

The Spaniard coats her fingers in the copious wetness that was accumulating between Ingrid’s legs before she slipped a finger into the midfielder, who let out a ragged sigh at the feeling. Her head thumped back against the wall as Mapi attached her lips to the sensitive skin of Ingrid’s neck. She works her lips and tongue down the column of her throat, stopping to suck harshly at her pulse point as the Norwegian lets out another breathy groan, opening her eyes to find Mapi looking at her with blown pupils and hooded eyes. 

It’s all the encouragement needed for the dark haired woman to press herself further into Mapi, slipping her own hand in between their bodies to curl into the defender as well. 

Mapi moans, not having expected Ingrid to do it, but she squirms and presses closer to the Norwegian at the feeling as she doubles down, increasing her pace, desperate to get Ingrid over the edge. 

Desperate for Ingrid to only want her, and her alone. 

Ingrid curls her fingers within Mapi, and the brunette's pace stutters as she lets out a keening whine, and Ingrid smirks around a groan that she lets out, looking far too self satisfied. 

But Mapi’s face is still set in what can only be described as jealousy, and she increases her pace as Ingrid does as well. 

Ingrid is closer than Mapi, but she shakes her head, clamping down on the brunette's fingers, forcing her to slow her pace. 

“Together,” Ingrid insists, grits out really as she fights her own impending orgasm, and Mapi watches her for a second before she nods, focusing on her own pleasure for a moment as Ingrid’s fingers curl tighter into her. Mapi grips the Norwegian’s shoulder with her free hand, nearly sobbing in relief at the feeling of Ingrid so deeply inside of her, and just when she’s on the crest does she nod fervently. Ingrid relaxes herself, allowing for Mapi to pick up her pace once more. 

Their front hallway is filled with the sound of choked sobs and low moans as the two women fall over the precipice, Mapi first and then Ingrid right after her, holding tightly to one another as their bodies shake and work through their respective orgasm. 

Ingrid is the first of the two of them to fully come back to herself, but she allows for Mapi to remain tightly wound to her as the Spaniard shudders through her orgasm, letting out a sigh of relief as she lets out a final shake. 

The Norwegian is looking at her with quirked lips, and Mapi looks slightly hazy, having finally, finally having gotten some of the relief that she had been craving so acutely. 

Without words, the midfielder steps back into her space, pressing her lips to the corner of Mapi’s mouth for a moment before the Spaniard turns into her, kissing her properly. 

Ingrid grips Mapi’s hand, bringing it forward to press it to her stomach before she slid it up, over her chest. Mapi took the hint easily, kneading at Ingrid’s breasts as the Norwegian whimpered slightly, a smirk still on her lips. 

“And to think,” Ingrid began, her lips just barely ghosting over Mapi’s, they were so close together. 

“It could be Alexia doing this,” the midfielder mused, and it’s enough to make Mapi’s whole face darken as she pulls back sharply.

“No.” Mapi answers simply, trying to sound tough, but it comes out rather breathy and needy. 

“No? And why is that?” Ingrid asks, and Mapi is happy to supply the answer. 

“You’re mine,” Mapi answers simply, and Ingrid grins devilishly before she pushes the Spaniard back slightly, offering her a wink before she begins to head to the bedroom. 

Ingrid had the defender right where she wanted her, and she wasn’t about to let that go to waste. When Mapi slips in the door just a second after her, she’s greeted with the sight of Ingrid bent over, her perfect ass on display as she looks through their toy drawer. 

Mapi was honestly expecting Ingrid to grab something to use on her, given the possessive nature of the Norwegian earlier in the night, but what she forgot to factor in was that perhaps Ingrid was just as desperate for some relief as she was. 

So maybe Mapi really can’t be all that surprised when Ingrid tosses her the strap, before fishing out the toy she wants to use. It’s a green one, long and thin, and a personal favorite of the midfielder. The Norwegian watches with hungry eyes as Mapi attaches the toy to the strap before stepping into the harness, taking care to cinch it up all without her gaze ever leaving Ingrids. 

When Mapi is finally getting the last few straps adjusted, Ingrid points toward the bed wordlessly, and despite the eyebrow raise she receives, the Spaniard is quick to obey, laying down on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows to watch Ingrid. 

The dark haired woman walks toward the bed slowly, climbing on top of Mapi and settling on her lap, her core connecting with the toy that is laying dormant on the defender's stomach. 

Ingrid leans down, attaching her lips to Mapi’s chest, swirling her nipple around with her tongue and laving it with attention before she switches to her other breast. Mapi laid back on the bed at the sensation, her chest arching up into the Norwegian’s mouth as one of her hands came to tangle in Ingrid’s dark, thick hair. The brunette doesn’t direct her exactly, but when she pulls lightly on Ingrid’s hair she is rewarded with a moan that is pressed into her skin. 

Ingrid kisses up between the valley of her breasts, over her collarbone and up over her neck, nipping at her neck tattoo before she moves to suck earnestly at Mapi’s throat. It takes all of her energy for the Spaniard to not writhe under the Norwegian’s careful ministrations, and Ingrid can’t help but smirk into her neck by how taut and tense Mapi’s body has become. 

The midfielder finally moves until her nose is just to the outer edge of Mapi’s ear, her head turned in toward the brunette. ‘

“Have you ever considered Maria,” Ingrid drawls, her voice low and positively dripping with sex, “that I might need you just as much as you need me?” 

The dark haired woman provides no further elaboration before she is off of Mapi, reaching for the bottle of lube and squirting some into her hand, gripping the dildo and coating it appropriately, making sure to press it back into the harness and toward Mapi’s body when she moves downward. It’s not a two way strap by any means, but the Spaniard can feel the pressure against her navel, and her hips buck up of their own volition at the slightest bit of friction. 

With a smile, Ingrid wipes her hand on a clean towel they keep in their toy drawer before she slips back onto Mapi’s lap, her knees on either side of the Spaniard’s hips. She reaches down to grip the dildo, bringing it up so that she can sink onto it, very, very slowly. 

It’s not a thick dildo, but Ingrid is still tight and it shows. Mapi remains laying but she opens her eyes to watch the show, as Ingrid presses further and further down with each pass, giving herself time to adjust. 

When she finally does bottom out, she makes sure to move her hips in a circular motion, just like she knows that Mapi likes, just like she knows will drive the defender crazy. 

If Mapi can tease, so can Ingrid. 

And tease, she does.

The Norwegian is near pornographic in her display, moving up and down as her chest bounces, and she arches her back as a moan ripples out of her mouth. 

Her hands have come first to run through her hair, and when she looks down Mapi is looking at her in exactly the way the midfielder wants her to, like some sort of ethereal person. Ingrid, at least to herself, might be far from it, but she would never lie and say that Mapi looking at her this way didn’t turn her on. 

She can feel her wetness running down the inside of her thighs as she continues, picking up her pace as more groans and whines slip from her lips. She’s closer now, probably needs a little bit of stimulation on her clit to send her over the edge, but she wants to make it last a little bit longer, wants Mapi to look at her like this a little longer. 

When the defender reaches up to palm at her chest Ingrid is quick to stop her, grasping her wrist as her pace stutters, the midfielder sitting down and shifting her hips side to side in slow motions. 

“Uh-huh. Touching is only for Alexia, right? Just like you touched her?” Ingrid asks in a saccharinely sweet tone, and Mapi’s eyes widen in surprise as Ingrid lets go of her hand, reaching down to play with her own clit for a few seconds as she resumed her pace. It only took her a few more moments to crest over the edge, a broken cry leaving her lips as her body contracts, her chest pressing up as she slides the hand that had been on her clit up her body to palm at her own chest. 

Meanwhile, the Spaniard has been left absolutely fuming under Ingrid, and she doesn’t even allow the Norwegian to fully come down from her orgasm before she’s flipping the two of them, the dark haired woman landing squarely on her back with Mapi over her. 

The defender doesn’t even bother saying anything, she simply moves Ingrid’s legs to open her up before she begins to press into her, her eyes watching for any sense of true discomfort. 

They had a safe word, and they’ve used it before, but Mapi is always still conscious to check. She knows they push the boundaries of this sort of thing on occasion, but when she looks at Ingrid she finds nothing but acceptance looking back at her. 

The dark haired woman pants Mapi’s name as the brunette rolls her hips into the Norwegian’s over and over and over again, her pace quick and efficient. 

Ingrid is losing her grip on reality slightly, completely overcome with pleasure as she looks up at the defender. She’s still sensitive from her last orgasm, and the pleasure is nearly all consuming when Mapi gets this focused. The Spaniard is bracing herself on either side of Ingrid’s chest, her arms flexed as she presses down toward Ingrid again and again and again, and the Norwegian can’t find it within herself to be of any complaint. 

“You’re mine,” Mapi grunts out as her hips slap into Ingrid’s, and the Norwegian’s mouth opens in a deliciously unabashed moan as she nods insistently, too far gone to remember the little game they had been playing. 

“I’m yours Maria, all yours,” Ingrid gasps as Mapi slams into her, and the defender can’t help the groan she lets out at hearing Ingrid say that she was hers. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow, a dark contrast against the white bedsheets, and her cheeks are flushed as she bites her lip, her chest positively heaving, stuttering with pleasure. 

Mapi’s positive she’s never seen anything more gorgeous, and when Ingrid finally comes it’s in a silent cry, her abdominal muscles rippling as a guttural moan finally appears as she comes with a force. There are tears leaking out of her eyes as her body arches into the feeling, and Mapi is quick to pull out and work her middle finger and ring finger over Ingrid’s clit in tight circles, and just when Ingrid is sure that she can’t take anymore, the Spaniard slips her fingers into the midfielder. 

Ingrid’s mouth opens as her chest arches, but Mapi is relentless. 

The defender is completely insatiable, never wants to see anything but Ingrid come like this again and again. 

“Maria, Maria, I–” Ingrid tries, but hearing the Norwegian moan her name is doing nothing but making the Spaniard work harder, her two fingers curling into the midfielder as her thumb teases her clit over and over and over again. 

Ingrid comes without warning, a warm gush of liquid spilling over Mapi’s hand and out onto their bedsheets, as her body convulses, her lover's name slipping from her lips like a prayer as her third orgasm shudders through her. 

Mapi works her through it gently, far more smug with herself than she had been when she had come inside the house initially. The ache between her own thighs has grown entirely unbearable, but all she cares about is Ingrid as she settles next to the Norwegian, whose eyes are still screwed tightly shut, her chest working overtime to get air to her lungs. 

Aftershakes work their way through her body as Mapi places a hand delicately on her stomach, a soothing presence rather than an overly sexual one. It takes her a few minutes to come back to herself, but eventually the midfielders breath evened out, and she places her own hand over Mapi’s as she looks over at the Spaniard, who is propped up on one elbow looking at her. 

“Better?” Mapi asks softly, in reference to the thing Ingrid had last said before she had started fucking herself on the strap. Ingrid swallows thickly as she takes Mapi in, how thready and tight her body appears, the way her legs are crossed even as she lays in bed, all of the hallmark signs that her girlfriend needs to get off. 

Ingrid knew this when she got into a relationship with the Spaniard. Mapi’s sex drive was on another planet, and the Norwegian loved it about her. She could go for hours and hours, and was completely bottomless not only in her desire, but also in her ability to give. 

The Norwegian knew if she asked to stop that Mapi would easily agree, likely slipping off to the bathroom to get herself off once or twice before she returned to Ingrid, wrapping her arms around the Norwegian and letting her fall asleep on her chest. 

But Ingrid, despite being blissed out currently, is more than happy to continue this. So she shakes her head, one eyebrow raising as she raked her eyes over the defender's bare figure. 

“No,” Ingrid answered simply before she sat up, leaning over into the Spaniard’s space and pressing her down onto the bed with a hand on her sternum. 

“Can’t have you going to bed with the feeling of your hands on her now, can I?” Ingrid teases, but it lacks most of the bite of earlier. Mapi only smirks back at her as the Norwegian returns to her chest once more. She’s more thorough in her attention this time around, less desperate for herself and more attuned to Mapi’s body. She flattens her tongue against the defender's nipple as she brings a hand up to pinch at the opposing nipple, smiling into the brunette’s chest as she whines at the feeling. 

Ingrid kisses her way down Mapi’s abdomen, licking a line down her abs before she nips at the skin there playfully, enjoying the way that Mapi’s hips jump at the contact. 

The Norwegian has to take a few minutes when she finally meets her destination to pull at the cinches of the strap, undoing it before she carefully slides it down Mapi’s legs, the brunette lifting her hips to help the Norwegian get it off. 

Ingrid rids it of the green dildo before she sets it carefully to the side, well aware that she’ll be coming back for it shortly. But for now she turns back to her girlfriend, well aware of her current destination. 

Mapi can’t help but spread her legs wider as Ingrid settles between her legs, looking up at the Spaniard once more before she lowers herself right toward where the defender wanted her. 

“You sure you don’t want me to call Ale, ask her if she can send her little girlfriend back here to get you off instead of me?” Ingrid offers, so close to Mapi that she can feel the hot breath from her speaking, right where she needs the midfielder. 

“God, no Ingrid, I just want you,” Mapi promises, trying her hardest not to squirm as she nods her head. Ingrid seems to be satisfied with that answer, and she leans down, bracing her hands on either of Mapi’s thighs as she licks through the defender. 

The Spaniard lets out an ungodly noise as her hips jump into Ingrid’s mouth, and the Norwegian can’t help but moan at the taste of the defender, salty and wonderful and just as she remembers it, even after all this time. 

Ingrid moves up to flick Mapi’s clit, first side to side and then up and down with her tongue as the brunette’s hands bunch in the sheets, grunting at the feeling of Ingrid’s soft tongue against her. 

The Spaniard clenches her thighs around Ingrid’s head, pulling her in as she brings Mapi’s clit into her mouth earnestly, sucking hard as the defender bites back a scream. 

Mapi struggles to keep her hips pinned to the bed, and when she arches for the third time the Norwegian slides her hand up to press it over the base of the defender’s navel, keeping her hips trapped down to the bed sheets. 

Once she is assured that the defender won’t move, the midfielder dives back in, slipping her tongue into the wet heat between the defender's thigh, letting the slick coat her lips and chin as she pressed further and further into the brunette. 

Ingrid wasn’t trying to tease, she was far past that at this point, and she smiled when she felt the familiar tightening of Mapi’s abdomen, still working herself against the defender as she slipped two fingers into the Spaniard, curling them quickly and effectively. 

Mapi cried out, gasping Ingrid’s name as she came with the Norwegian’s finger buried deep within her, her tongue working her clit over in circles as she came down from her high. She sucked in air in a greedy fashion, only realizing once she opened her eyes that Ingrid wasn’t on the bed with her anymore, but rather standing next to her, currently getting herself adjusted to the strap. 

Mapi’s eyes widened in surprise before her pupils dilated, the thought of Ingrid fucking into her a more than welcome thought. The dark haired woman had attached Mapi’s favorite toy to the strap, the red one with ridges, and just the sight of it practically has the Spaniard drooling in want. 

“All fours,” Ingrid instructs, and the defender is quick to pop up and settle just as Ingrid had told her. One look at the wetness between the brunette’s thighs is enough for the midfielder to know that she probably doesn’t need any sort of lube, but she does it regardless, not wanting Mapi to be uncomfortable. 

Mapi has settled herself on the edge of the bed, and Ingrid walks right over to her and places her dominant hand on the small of the Spaniard’s back. She runs her hand over the tattoos she finds there, the cross, the lion, the two sphynx’s, the lotus flower at the base of her neck. 

She runs her hand down the defenders spine, trailing it with just one finger and smiling at the way that Mapi shivered under her before she palmed at the Spaniard’s ass appreciatively before she finally returned to exactly where Mapi wanted her. 

Ingrid eases the strap into Mapi slowly, allowing her time to adjust to it as she moves in and out of her shallowly. It didn’t take long for the Spaniard to adjust, arching her chest into the ground and throwing her head back as she pressed back into Ingrid. 

The Norwegian grips at Mapi’s hip for security, beginning to set a slow rhythm of pumping into the defender. But Mapi wants more, and faster, and she reaches around with one hand to grasp at the midfielders thigh, encouraging Ingrid to go faster. 

“Please, more,” Mapi practically begs, and Ingrid smirks at the desperation in her tone but she obliges all the same, beginning to move faster and faster. 

The brunette lets out a ragged sigh at the feeling, her head still thrown back as her hips press up. The Spaniard drops down onto her elbows, changing the angle and releasing a groan at the feeling as Ingrid continued, her pace quickening. She’s reaching the perfect spot, and it only continues with her next movement. 

The Norwegian reaches forward with one hand to toy with the defender's clit, knowing that Mapi was close, and knowing that this was going to be a good orgasm. The muscles of the brunette’s back were rippling as her chest contracted and spasmed, and her breathing wasn’t so much breathing as it was raspy moans. 

Mapi was tightening around the strap, making it hard for Ingrid to move even as she continued to pump in and out of the Spaniard, her hand working tirelessly over the defender's clit. 

Mapi can’t even stop the whines to warn Ingrid that she is going to come, not that she needed to. Ingrid could tell, and she chased it, pressing faster and harder into the Spaniard as the coil inside Mapi snapped, sending her crashing over the edge violently as her body spasms and contracts. 

There is stillness in the bed for a moment, the brunette suspended in pleasure before her entire body begins to shake with the force of her orgasm, Ingrid’s name falling from her mouth in a breathy moan, reverent as her entire body relaxes into the mattress, her hips still up in the air, Ingrid still completely inside of her. 

The dark haired woman leans forward to press a line of open mouthed kisses to the defenders spine softly, allowing her to come down from her orgasm slowly before she slipped out of her, stepping out of the strap and discarding it to the side before she made for the bathroom briskly. 

Mapi is still laying on the bed when Ingrid returns, brandishing a wet washcloth that she uses to clean first the defender, and then herself before she discards it back in the bathroom. By the time she manages to get back to bed the defender is settled against the pillows, her chest and face flushed but alert, and she gestures for Ingrid to join her, something the Norwegian happily does. 

Ingrid curls into Mapi’s side as she always does, tilting her head up to ghost her nose over the skin of the brunette’s throat before she presses a featherlight kiss to her jaw, the softness a juxtaposition to the frantic yet deliberate sex they had just finished having. 

But this was one of the things Mapi loved about Ingrid, her ability to be just as sweet as she was sexy, to do those kinds of things in the bed before they curled into one another, their adoration just as prominent as their lust was. It was the first time that Mapi has felt that kind of balance with someone, and now she craves it almost as much as the actual sex itself sometimes. 

“You know,” Ingrid murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper but still audible nonetheless. “You don’t need to hump on one of our teammates to get me to fuck you, you know that right?” 

Her tone is gentle, forgiving and understanding in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. When Mapi doesn’t say anything, she continues. 

“I missed you just as much as you did me, I promise. We don’t need to let it get this bad, I just need you to talk to me. I had no idea how you were feeling,” Ingrid admits, because the fact was that she was relatively unaware of exactly how Mapi had been feeling, and she hates that. Maria is her favorite person, and she always wants to know what she is feeling or what she is concerned about or needed. 

Mapi sighed softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of Ingrid’s hair before she wrapped her arm tighter around the Norwegian, more protective and secure. 

“I know, you are right. In the future I will be more honest and try to communicate with you more about what I need and when,” Mapi vows, and there is silence for a few moments before she smirks, letting out a huff of a laugh before she speaks once more. 

“It was pretty nice to rile you up and get you all jealous like that, though, that was hot,” Mapi admits, and realizes as soon as she’s said it that it’s a mistake. 

“Really Maria? Well…I guess two can play at that game!”  “Wait, no I didn’t – what?!”

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CAUGHT IN BETWEEN kim chaewon & huh yunjin

prev. masterlist . next

🧋★ ͘ ⴰ yunyn and chaeyn being a kdrama love triangle for five minutes straight 1M views

📁clip one

yunjin sat between yn and chaewon as she started the live, waving to the camera.

“is it focused?” she asked leaning towards yn, “yes i think so.” yn responded.

chaewon furrowed her eyebrows for a second, something felt wrong, and then it hit her.

“can we switch spots ?” she asked yunjin, yn wasn’t paying any attention since she was reading the comments.

“why ?” the blonde girl asked.

“I always sit beside yn during lives.”

yunjin laughed. “come on now it doesn’t matter.”

chaewon frowned slightly. “yes it does, I’ve been sitting beside her during lives since 2018.”

“but I wanna sit beside her too.” yunjin said before letting out a deep sigh.

“yn”she called.

“hm.” yn hummed back eyes on the comments, growing confused at all the comments calling chaewon jealous.

[ youtuber caption- miss girl is so oblivious]

“can you sit in the middle.”

“um, okay.” yn responded, not thinking anything of it, still very much confused by the comments.

after she switched spots with yunjin, chaewon smiled brightly and leaned into yn’s side.

📁clip two

the camera followed yn as she walked into the living room, the group was filming a dorm life variety show.

“morning.” she yawned stretching as she comes to a stop in front of yunjin who’s sitting in front of her.

“good morning.” yunjin replied before putting her phone down and pulling yn into her lap.

the camera stayed in them for a while as yn picked up yunjin’s phone and started talking photos.

[ youtuber caption- i need those photos NOW]

“I’m hungry.” yn whined leaning more into yunjin.

“you’re hungry?” a voice came form the kitchen.

then chaewon came into the frame. “wanna split my breakfast sandwich with me ?” she asked, already pulling yn away from yunjin’s lap.

yunjin pouted as she watched chaewon drag yn away from her, “you could’ve brought the other half in here you know.” but got left with no response.

📁 clip three

the camera followed the girls as they walked through the airport.

it showed yn and yunjin walking a little bit ahead of the girls, with blankets wrapped around both of them.

the camera then panned to chaewon who sped walked towards and squeezed between yn and yunjin linking her arm with yn’s.

📁clip four

“ah, so who are you closest with yn?” the interviewer asked yn and all the members turned their heads towards her.

“um…” she laughed, “I’m close with all my members.” she smiled. “but, I’m always close with chaewon unnie.”

chaewon smiled happily and leaned into yn’s side. “but, I’ve also been very close with yunjin unnie lately, since chaewon is always so busy with leader things I’ve been hanging out with yunjin a lot more.”

yunjin squealed and switched sides with kazuha so she can stand beside yn and hug her.

chaewon narrows her eyes, “I can still make time.” she frowns.

📁 clip five

the camera stills on yn and yunjin as yn whispers in yunjin’s ear as a performance goes on.

yunjin whispers back at yn and the two girls giggle at what she said.

the camera pans to chaewon who’s sitting beside kazuha, who’s between her and yn.

the camera stays on chaewon as she stares at yn and yunjin giggling before rolling her eyes.

📁 that last one caused a big scandal if u guys want a oneshot on it let me know… 👀

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

Barnaby facts (confirmed by the devs)

Hello! Since I was bored and it's making me so happy to see Barnaby getting so much love lately, I've decided to collect all the info I have about him! I most likely missed something, so if you have info I haven't put here, or got wrong, let me know, ok? ^^

Anyhoo, here we go! **}

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

- Barnaby, despite his name, is not a barn owl. He's actually a long eared owl.

- Barnaby isn't his real name; he used to have a different one, back in his alive days. One of the drawings featuring him has him surrounded by many names starting with "B".

- Said illustration has "Who am I?" hidden among the names and words such as "Where" and "Help", hinting at something linked to his identity is torturing him.

- It's been stated that Barnaby is the way he is because of a dangerous experiment that corrupted then killed him, changing him completely as a result.

- Barnaby is asexual homoromantic, and is genderfluid: while he goes primarly by "he/him", he accepts any pronoun.

- He considers his Barnaboos as his "little pretties", and often offers help or advice if they need it; of course, his help may not be as helpful as he believes...

- He hates cheesecake.

- He's not a fan of rootbeer neither; he will serve it in his parties, but he personally won't drink it.

- His favorite food is eye scream, and favorite Halloween treat are caramel apples.

- As for ice cream, his favorite flavor is Strawberry Shortcake.

- Speaking of food, yeah, he doesn't need to eat, nor sleep. But still likes doing it anyway.

- Barnaby is a confirmed sleepyhead. He naps a lot, but never in an ordinary position, or in his bed; he tends to sleep in various gravity bending position, especially upside down.

- Meaning, yes, when Billie comes to steal his gem, he was sleeping!

- And when he sleeps, he apparently snores and hoots.

- While hugging him would result in a kill from him, Ash confirmed Barnaby is a hugger! Hugging him would still involve him squeezing or stabbing you to death, tho'. And he'd feel both soft and slimy to the touch.

- Barnaby is around 10-11ft tall, and with his size-shifting abilities, he can be any height he wants; when he was alive tho', he's as tall as Aristotle, more or less.

- He doesn't need glasses anymore, but sometimes will wear them because they make him look smart. They also tend to follow the eyes' movements.

- Barnaby is very emotional: while it won't stop him from trying to kill you, he will cry if he sees you cry. Ironically, he would comfort you until you feel better. Then he'll kill you.

- It's been confirmed that Barnaby's biggest fear has "already come true".

- His tears are orange, just like his eyes.

- Barnaby is not one to open his heart easily, but the moment he does, there's many ways to reach it. He's quite romantic, tho' not in the usual way: if you gave him a dead rat, he'd consider it a very romantic gesture!

- It's been stated he doesn't have a partner now, but in life, "maybe".

- When it comes to children, it's been confirmed he'd be the best caregiver alongside Dutch, althought for him "it's complicated".

- He apparently had a child of his own, if the picture posted about him during "Father's Day" is any indication. What happened to the little one hasn't been revealed yet.

- Apparently he's the least judgemental character in BBU!

- If he had a TV, it'd be old timey, and he'd watch something really random. Like ducks.

- Barnaby loves small critters; Ash specifically mentions they always linked him with guinea pigs. And indeed, Barnaby had a science guinea pig co-worker once, that turned into an actual guinea pig because of a reckless experiment, and he took care of them.

- He's able to control reality; it's unclear if it's his gem's doing, or his magic power as a ghost.

- In any case, he's now the most powerful character in the game

- Back in his alive days, he was a magic researcher and scientist.

- He actually owned the gem before he turned into a ghost. He even experimented on it, and it's suggested that actually sealed his fate.

- A lot of songs from Oingo Boingo and Lemon Demon fit him: Ash specifically mentioned "Weird Science" as really "Barnabycore"

- Barnaby is autistic: he stims by hooting and flapping his wings when he's excited.

- When he's scared or nervous, he tends to cover himself with his wings.

- Katie said that, if he were a candy, he'd be a sour blueberry.

- Barnaby lives in his own dimension, with his own mansion and everything. And he can travel between realities. Although one comment from Katie suggests he's trapped in there, but it's too early to say for sure.

- According to the devs, he was inspired by Weird Al Yankovic, Lewis from Mystery Skulls and Discord from MLP.

- No, he wasn't inspired by Snatcher, since the development of BBU has lasted longer than A Hat in Time. The two of them canonically know each other tho': only problem is, Snatcher hates Barnaby's guts and finds him too clingy, while the owl adores him.

- He canonically knows Wally Darling from "Welcome Home" and Kira from "Far Fetched" too, since he can travel between realities.

- Barnaby has his guests come to his home by portals that pop just below them. He apparently has kidnapped people before, every once in a while.

- He'd get along well with Dutch.

- It's left vague whether he knows Fantoccio or not.

- He actually has never met Arthur nor Aristotle before the game.

- In any case, he'd find Aristotle really funny, and wouldn't take them seriously.

-- Barnaby is aware of the player, and can break the 4th wall. And that's why only he can use Twitter.

- Whenever he writes on Twitter, hE WRiTSE LIkE THIS!!!

- Barnaby is REALLY mischeavous, and finds no problem in cheating in games. But if YOU cheat, then he gets ticked off.

- This suggests he's also a sore loser.

- Judging by his expression in the cutscene, he doesn't like being interrupted.

- It's been confirmed he smells like meldew. :P

- He could fake glitching out, then attack the moment you come to check out what's going on with him.

- He HATES party crashers. Also scarecrows: not good for conversations. And he's not interested in their crops.

- He can play the organ: Katie even suggested that if you hear it in the background of his chapter, that's him playing it.

- He was a young prodigy, back when he was alive!

- Don't be fooled by his goofy antics: he's very smart, still loves making experiments and can speak a lot of languages.

- Ironically, he hates skulls: he finds them icky.

- He was 25-26 when he died; he's been dead for 100+ years.

- Time is very important for him: that's why there's so many clocks in his parlor. It's been suggested he sees partying as a way to keep track with time.

- Despite that, Barnaby himself in the contest video has briefly stated he tends to forget what year it is.

- There's tons of pictures in his manor: all of them depict him, suggesting he's good at painting.

- Katie has noted that Barnaby "remembers everything". When asked if there's something he'd rather forget, they stated that "what he wants and what he needs are very different things".

- His family is "infinite", apparently. Then again, one of his very early descriptions stated he's got no friends nor family to speak about...

- He's been described as "self interested"

- When asked which character had the most trauma, without giving hints about being traumatized, Katie confirmed Barnaby as the answer, even stating his story makes them the saddest, alongside Fanto's.

- His favorite color is pink!

- He can change himself into lots of animals, and can even clone himself!

- When asked if he can talk to his alive self, Katie said it's "technically possible".

- Back when he was alive, he was noted as a dork and a hardworker, so much so he'd even pull one-nighters before making speeches for his research. Katie jokingly suggested that's why he parties so much: it's to make up for lost time!

- He had a different way of speaking, back when he was alive. And his icks were probably different as well.

- When he gets overwhelmed, he has a shutdown, and goes completely silent.

- At early stages, Barnaby was supposed to be a bug.

- The moment his design as a ghost was chosen, he went through a lot of palette options, like a pale blue color like he came from "The Haunted Mansion", or all colorful like "Dia de los Muertos". Ultimately they settled for his currently shadowy look because, not only it's easier to animate, it was in line with his backstory.

- Barnaby can melt. It's still unclear what triggers such a reaction, but some pictures hint that it's tied to his psychological state.

- Barnaby has been noted that he can talk fancy, but he's not eloquent.

- His favorite dance is the charleston!

- Ash has stated that in the game he is going to be depicted doing something similiar to "singing himself to sleep".

- Apparently he still makes pellets from his mouth. Dead or not, he's still an owl.

- He often puts emphasis on words, sometimes even making his bowtie spin.

- In the latest Twitter post featuring him, when you decode the garbled message, you can read: "Barnaby lies Along in his thoughts, Resting On the floor Neglected". Not only this hints at his turmoil, it also hides the word "BARON". It's unclear if it's his name, a title he possessed, or someone or thing else entirely connected to him.

- He loves recieving scretches on his head.

- Barnaby can cook, but he'll more often than not leave that to the Barnaboos.

- He's not that interested in gardening, even tho' he owns a greenhouse.

- He'd enjoy playing "Luigi's Mansion"!

- In Super Smash Bros. he'd main Meta Knight, even relating to him.

- He'd happily accept smoochies, apparently!

- His favorite party game is "Pin the tail on the owl".

- If you are his friend, he'd consider it even more of a reason to stay in the manor and never leave!

- He has claimed that he's used to give himself self love and compliments, since no one else does it. That, and his tendency to ask others for hugs or if they need a hug to calm down, suggests he's affection starved.

- He tends to react to compliments from fans by smiling bashfully, or happily shouting that he's popular.

- Katie stated that his favorite movie would be something unexpected, like "Marnie & Me" or "Up".

- Barnaby can see everything from the eyes of the plushies that look like him. So, if you bought one... watch out...

- Among his early designs, he also looked like a completely different owl, tall and austere looking, who was the guardian of the forest. It was changed because the devs wanted a goofy boss that could stand out among the others.

- Having said that, it seems Barnaby was the last boss to be officially revealed, and initially the game only had Elaine, Dutch and Fantoccio as the main bosses.

- Barnaby LOVES puns. A good deal of the lines he says when you get defeated in his chase contain a pun.

- You try being slick by stating you want to die of old age? Too bad: Barnaby will make you age rapidly. Despite that, Katie confirmed he doesn't have time related powers...

- Katie and Ash confirmed Barnaby can fly. And such a sight is apparently really hilarious.

- Barnaby loves shiny trinkets: if he sees a sparkly thread, he'll fixate on it and will follow its movements. It's like with a cat following a laser.

- Barnaby has teeth; they're orange and sharp, and come out when he's ticked off, or especially devious.

- When he was alive, he only used he/him pronouns. He became comfortable with all pronouns after he died. He's always been interested in men.

- This goes without saying, but still: he operates on cartoon logic. He can use both his wings AND his feet as hands. Even both feet can act as hands, even when they appear off camera. How? Because it's Barnaby and he can do anything he sets his mind into!

[slayfics]

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter eighteen: Katsuki finally opens up to you.

Chapter links

You were lying in your dorm room trying to focus on studying the lessons you went over today in class. With the events of the last few days, you found it hard to absorb any new information.

For the last several days ever since the provisional licensing exam Katsuki had been ignoring and avoiding you. You knew he was upset about failing but you couldn't shake the feeling that something else was also going on.

In the common room and in classes he never met your gaze and when you texted him everything was left on seen. As angry as you were, you were also concerned about him.

Then last night things seemed to escalate. He was caught breaking curfew apparently fighting with Izuku. You knew he never liked his so-called childhood friend but what the fuck?

"Ugh!" You threw your book and laid down on your bed. It appeared to be no use to study. You couldn't decipher if you were more pissed or worried. You had even messaged him after the fight to try and talk to him, but again nothing.

You opened your phone to see the last message you sent to Katsuki.

I know you're hurting please talk to me.

Seen.

Whatever- if that's how things are now then so be it. It was then you heard a knock come from the patio of your dorm.

You got up and slid open the curtain to see Katsuki standing on your porch. All at once your body decided you were more angry than upset and you closed the curtain on him.

You turned your back to your patio, feeling rage ignite inside of you. Then came the sound of popping explosions from your patio.

"UGH!" You exclaimed, opening your patio door knowing Katsuki wasn't going to stop until you let him in. You angrily pulled him inside and shut the patio door.

"Hi," he spoke, voice unusually low for him.

"Fucking hi? You ignored me for three days and that's it? Hi?!" You marveled, feeling your anger heighten.

Katsuki didn't respond but sat down on your bed elbows resting on his knees.

You sat in your chair across from him. The room was uncomfortably silent for an amount of time.

Katsuki figured you might be irritated at his lack of interaction with you the last few days, but he had no idea you'd be so pissed. Your last message to him seemed as though you felt sympathetic for him.

You let out an irritated sigh, "I get it. You've been going through a lot of shit recently but so is everyone Bakugo. It's unfair for you to expect me to just be here when you want me and ignore me when you don't. I'm not just some punching bag you know." You spat out.

Punching bag.

Katsuki's memory instantly flashed to Izuku's words when he yelled that he wasn't going to be Katsuki's punching bag anymore.

Your anger kept you from seeing how his shoulders dropped and his usually confident demeanor was lacking. His eyes trailed the floor as he processed your words. He deserved them and he knew it, but he finally came to you in the hope of some comfort. Instead, he was getting more berated. More than he had already berated himself.

He knew it was wrong to ignore you but how could he have told you the truth? That he realized something was going on with Izuku's quirk. All of that was tied to his guilt about what happened to All Might. And he couldn't unravel it on his own. Now he knew the truth and finally figured out what he could tell you, he came to you for comfort but found himself being chewed out.

All Might himself told him it wasn't his fault, but Katsuki knew better. The fact was if he hadn't been kidnapped the events would have been different.

"Hello? Do you have anything to say for yourself? Or did you just fucking come here to ignore me in my own room?" You spat again, even angrier than the last time.

"It's my fault-" he said, voice collapsing on itself as his chest began to heave.

"...What?" You asked, bewildered. Was Katsuki really about to cry?

"All Might- It's my fault- if I was never captured- he wouldn't have lost his power," he said, sobs coming freely from him now.

Your heart instantly broke in two, and you wanted to take back all your harsh words. You had no idea this was what Katsuki had been dealing with all along. You thought he was just pissed about his provisional licenses.

You moved from your chair grabbing Katsuki into an embrace. He rested his head on your chest, and you intertwined your fingers in his hair.

"That's not true-"

"Yes, it is!" He yelled, sobbing. "You all know it! I know you all look down on me because of it!"

You ran your hand in a soothing motion up and down his shoulder while your other hand caressed his hair. You stayed silent and fought the urge to argue in order to allow him to vent all of the thoughts that had been haunting him.

"I'm so fucking weak what the fuck!? How could I have let that happen to the person I've looked up to the most. All my life I've wanted to be like him, but I'm the one that ended up destroying him?? What the fuck am I supposed to do now- how do I-" Katsuki's sobs broke off, and his breathing became more erratic as he struggled to take in air.

You held him tighter to your chest sitting in his pain with him as tears of your own began to fall.

"Bakugo- you've been dealing with this on your own for so long. I'm sorry. You have to know you put too much pressure on yourself. No one ever would have expected you to hold off the whole league of villains on your own. You know that right? And- no one in our class looks down on you. Can't you see how envious they are of your drive and determination?" You spoke softly.

Katsuki didn't speak a word but hid his face in your chest as he continued to sob and listen to your words. He knew you'd know what to say and how to say it.

"Yes- you're right because you got kidnapped that fight happened with All Might. But I know you're not stupid. All Might would have fought that villain at some point regardless of the events. It just happened to be then. It isn't solely your fault and I know for a fact, not a soul thinks that." You continued.

Katsuki's tears slowly started to subside, and your gentle tugging at his hair further soothed him.

"Ask for what you're going to do- you're going to continue to feel what you need to feel to get over it. Then move past it and get stronger like you always do. Because no one looks down on you, it's the opposite, we look up to you. I look up to you. You're a fucking asshole sure, but you're strong and you never give up, and that drive pushes us all to do better. You're going to be an amazing pro hero and we're all excited to see it." You squeezed Katsuki one more before letting him go. "Thank you, for letting me in," you whispered softly.

You took a deep breath and lay on the bed feeling exhausted from the heightened emotions. You were shocked when Katsuki crawled up to lay on your chest. Silent tears were still escaping him now and then. You wrapped your arms around him, and he hid his face again.

"This feeling is going to pass, I promise," you said.

Katsuki wished he could have told you the whole truth. How that worthless fuck ended up with his idol's power. He knew if anyone could make that seem less of a tragedy you could. However, he stayed true to his word to keep it a secret and found comfort in confiding the guilt he had been carrying all this time.

You quickly felt his weight increase as Katsuki fell into a slumber. His chest now rose and fell evenly, all sobs subsiding. He must have been pretty exhausted to fall asleep this quick you realized. You wondered how many nights he had stayed up tormenting himself.

You ran your fingers through his hair, "You can always talk to me Katsuki," You whispered as you felt your own eyes get heavy.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle @reads-stuff-quietly @chixkadee @perfectsukii @faetoraa @fem-weeb @nagicats @lees-chaotic-brain

[toast-the-unknowing]

on fanfic plagiarism

Almost five years ago, in January of 2019, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "Word on the Street," had been plagiarized.

I remember that the stolen fic was posted in k-pop fandom, though not what specific band it related to -- I'm not into k-pop, or really into pop music at all.

I remember that the person who messaged me told me that they had found my fic because the plagiarist had a reputation for stealing fic, so when they'd posted a new story, this person had known to do some digging.

I don't remember what the plagiarist's username was. I remember scanning the stolen story, trying both to read every detail and to avoiding taking any of it in, because looking at that right-but-wrong, not-quite-there, uncanny-valley-ness of it made me queasy.

I remember being darkly amused that the plagiarist had cut out the reference to the main character suffering physical abuse at the hands of his father -- I guess it didn't make sense in the context of the new character. It's almost like the story wasn't written for him. It's almost like someone wrote the story about Adam Parrish, instead.

I filed an AO3 complaint, on the grounds that this was a blatant and unarguable violation of their plagiarism policy. Within twenty-four hours, they got back to me, and the story was removed.

It was a weird, uncomfortable, gross feeling, knowing someone had taken words I'd written and passed them off as their own.

But at the same time -- "Word on the Street" was a silly thing I dashed off pretty quickly, during a period of my life when I was doing a lot of writing. It hurt to have it stolen. It was a violation. But…I had other words, that were more important to me. Maybe that was a buffer.

-

Last month, about six weeks ago, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "there's talk going 'round this town," had been plagiarized.

I was, bizarrely, amused.

I was less bizarrely furious. I was understandably, relatably, I would say rationally, furious. But in a way (and as always, when I say in a way, I am calling back to the scholars of overthinkingit.com for whom in a way is meant as the thing I have just said or am about to say is false) -- in a way, I was amused.

The plagiarist clearly did a 'find and replace' on the character names, to replace Adam and Ronan's names with those of k-pop characters. They did a bad job of it, since the name "Ronan" still appears in one paragraph and the name "Parrish" still appears in two paragraphs. The fic is here, in case anyone doesn't believe me, under the name "i do(n't remember)". At first when I complained about the fic on tumblr, I didn't mention the name, or which fic they'd stolen, because I was worried about anyone…I don't know, making a scene. I've stopped caring. AO3 user springguk is bad at find and replace and they should feel bad. About their computer skills, and also about their blatant plagiarism.

springguk also did some more edits to my fic, I have to give them credit for that. I wrote "there's talk going 'round this town" within a relatively short time span, for me. I tend to either finish things within one week, or else take several months. I believe this one took about five or six weeks completely to write -- I was very inspired.

(I was inspired, specifically, by the press coverage of Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves 'discovering' they might be 'accidentally' married. I mention that in my author's notes. springguk doesn't mention what 'inspired' them in their author's notes. I wonder how they talk about it with friends. They do, in their author's notes, include a link to their ko-fi, and a request that people buy them a coffee.)

If I'd taken longer with this fic, I might have made some edits. Even at the time, I knew I was being self-indulgent in letting the scene with my teenage female OC talk at such length with Ronan about what his non-canonical film career had meant to her, a person the audience didn't care about. But I had fun. I liked Fox. I didn't want to cut her, and what the hell, it was fanfic. I decided to self-indulge.

I was darkly amused to find that springguk did cut out the scene with Fox from their plagiarized version. Maybe springguk is a more disciplined editor than I am. Maybe springguk just didn't have a good k-pop character to map Fox onto. Maybe springguk didn't even realize that Fox was an OC. Do you know anything about the fandom you steal fics from, springguk? I can't help but wonder. Have you read The Raven Cycle? Do you care about teenage OCs who steal cars because of fake films that are clearly meant to be stand-ins for The Fast and the Furious franchise?

Maybe springguk just didn't give a fuck, because none of their heart and soul was poured into this fic. I cared too much about Fox. springguk doesn't care about a single word in the fic they published. Why would they? They didn't write it.

I'm being a little mean in naming them so many times. But I'm able to, this time, because although I filed a plagiarism complaint with AO3 six weeks ago, springguk's stolen fic "i do(n't remember)," is still available to read on AO3 to this very day. I don't have to wrack my brains to remember what their username was, or which k-pop band they recast my work with. I can just look at their fic with its 24 comments and 151 kudos. Hell, maybe that fic is even better than mine, if you don't mind that by cutting the sequence with Fox they've sacrificed a fairly substantial development in the romantic relationship, and also if you don't care that at one point the characters names switch from Jeongguk and Taehyung to Ronan and Parrish, because seriously, for fuck's sake, if you're going to steal a fic at least do a goddamn ctrl+f at the end.

I was mad. I was amused. I made a complaint that the AO3, six weeks later, has still not acted on. I mostly moved on.

-

Tonight, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now," had been plagiarized.

I wanted to vomit.

I was supposed to be playing Dungeons and Dragons online with friends tonight; I spent the entire call unable to focus on anything anyone was saying. I had to keep reminding myself that I was on camera and my face wasn't supposed to look like that.

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is the first of a series of, currently, twelve fics. skytoseungmin, the person who stole it to pass it off as their own work, knew this. Their stolen version was published as part one of a series, though they hadn't published any of the sequels. Presumably, they wanted to wait long enough to make it plausible they'd gone and written the follow ups, instead of just finding them.

skytoseungmin likely didn't know that this fic and this series are intensely personal. They didn't know that the apartment that Adam -- Seungmin, in their ill-gotten version -- lives in, that was based in part off of the apartment I lived in for a year in Pico-Robertson with talldecafcappuccino. They didn't know that the 7-Eleven Adam buys coffee at is the same one I used to tease talldecafcappuccino for buying coffee at. They didn't know that the strip club where Adam and Ronan have their humorously ill-timed romantic revelation outside of, that was the strip club I used to use as a landmark when giving people directions for how to navigate the confusing as fuck freeway exit I lived near, which once caused me to accidentally tell my highly Catholic parents "just go past the strip club and you're good!"

skytoseungmin didn't know that the apartment Adam -- sorry, Seungmin, thoroughly, they were better with find and replace than springguk -- lived in, was also based off of my ex's apartment in Palms, where I as the mere visiting girlfriend was never allowed to park in the parking lot. Where I would sometimes have to spend twenty or thirty minutes circling the neighborhood before I could find parking, often a walk of several minutes away. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when Ronan's car get towed from a McDonald's parking lot, that that was a specific McDonald's on Venice Boulevards, the same one my ex's asshole roommate used to just roll his eyes and say that I should park at. skytoseungmin doesn't know that I once wished passionately that I had just parked in that McDonald's parking lot and risked getting towed, on the occasion that a man followed me several unlit blocks from my car. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when I talk about how helping someone park is the truest love language there is in Los Angeles, that that was what I meant. Has skytoseungmin ever had to circle to half an hour to find parking in Los Angeles? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone enough to do that, instead of saying, fuck it, they can come to me or we're breaking up? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone in Los Angeles enough, to do as my ex did, and come running as fast as humanly possibly when their girlfriend called them whispering and crying on the phone, someone's following me, please, I'm scared, I wish I just parked at the McDonald's?

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is a very personal fic.

It isn't half as personal as some of the fics that come after.

skytoseungmin marked their plagiarized version of the fic as part one of a series. Were they planning on stealing part two, where I, through an alternate universe characterization of Ronan Lynch, dig into my experience of grief and trauma surrounding my grandmother's dementia? Were they planning on stealing any of the explicit fics, where I play with kink and desire in ways I haven't even exposed to my actual sexual partners, but where I felt able to through the guise of fandom? What else was skytoseungmin planning on stealing, with charming little author's notes apologizing for how they missed the fandom-relevant date they were shooting for, because they were so busy with exams, tee-hee! Why the excuses, skytoseungmin? how long does it take you to ctrl+f, even if you are more thorough about it than springguk?

If I seem too accusatory and mean-spirited toward skytoseungmin, well, the LA verse is a very personal fic.

And it's also, it turns out, only one of eight different fics that they stole from me.

I didn't even notice at first, to be honest. I was too stunned. But my friend Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went to my defense and clicked through to the author's page, while I was still reeling at the horrible possibilities of part one of a series. It turned out, of eight fics on skytoseungmin's author's page…I had written every single one of them.

Some were short and pretty lighthearted, things I hadn't had to invest too much of myself into -- like I said, sometimes, I can write a fic in under a week.

Other things…

They stole the space western AU.

I don't think I can articulate to any human being how much that hurt me, to look at it, to see.

I wrote that as a thank you gift for someone who donated to Fandom Trumps Hate.

I spent nearly two years of my life on it -- two years during which, because of mental health issues and life situation changes, my words per year dropped precipitously. I still haven't recovered. I still think of what a failure I am for not writing more, currently, actively, and I remember how the space western AU was both a symptom of that and a defiance of it: yes, writing has become fucking hard, fucking NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE, but I'm still doing it, goddamn it, you can't stop me, even if all I produce is the tiniest trickle of words a month. it can still add up, somehow, if we just keep TRYING.

To see the space western AU, casually nestled amongst a half dozen other fics that were all apparently casually dashed off in the same month…I know it was theft, I know it was a lie, but it still felt like a slap in the face, why can't you write this fast?

Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went on a campaign of commenting on all of skytoseungmin's (my) fics, and I am so thankful. The k-pop fans who heard Jessie have been reaching out, to her, to me, to each other on Twitter, and I am so thankful for them too. skytoseungmin has deleted all of their (my) fics on AO3, and their entire AO3 account, and their entire twitter, apparently. Maybe they were hoping to get enough clicks to parlay them into some kind of book deal, and they'd now rather give up what was a low investment effort on their part than be associated with accusation of plagiarism.

I suppose they can always start over with a new user name and someone else's fics if they really want to.

I suppose they can always start over with a new username and my fics, if they really want to.

And after all, AO3 has still not reached out to me about springguk, and "i do(n't remember)" is still sitting there. Maybe springguk is also going for a book deal. Who knows?

Why complain about any of it?

In a way* (and remember what "in a way" means), isn't it a compliment, if someone loves the words I wrote, even if they don't know it was me that wrote them? toast-the-unknowing and shinealightonme, if they're the same name (and they are), then why not springguk or skytoseungmin, too?

Am I making too big of a deal out of this? Does everyone just have their work stolen from them, all of the time? Is that simply the cost of doing business in an era and an ecosystem where we all can copy and paste twenty-four thousand words with greater ease than our ancestors could transcribe a single phrase? Are more prolific, more famous, more successful fan authors looking at my piteous cries and thinking, bitch, you've only been ripped off by k-pop fans ten times, come back when you have real problems?

And yet in a month, a year, a whole life phase of not being able to write as much as I would like to, because of my health, because of my work, to have someone else just casually pass off the words I have managed to eke out, as though they have no value, as though it were no more than photo copying a shitty flier to stick under a windshield wiper…

I can't imagine springguk or skytoseungmin give a shit how I feel about any of this. At best, they roll their eyes; at worst they laugh to know they hurt me -- and what's the difference between the two? I'll never know either way.

I know that some of the people they duped do care, and are also upset. That helps. And also, it doesn't help.

I just fucking hate all of this, and if all I have are words, and if my words are valuable enough for someone to steal, then here, here are enough of them to choke on. I know I did.

[nyxiswrites1200]

Could you maybe do a guilty pleasure Sebastian (or Elliot) post? I’m not sure I have any specific ideas in mind. I really like slight possessiveness (not outright yandere) so maybe something like whoever you chose getting jealous of another bachelor/ette getting attention from the farmer and being a bit possessive of them? Lots of “you’re mine and I hope you know it” and giving hickies to mark territory type stuff. I also would like you to just have fun with it, you know? I’d like you to enjoy the writing process too, I know how much it sucks to not have ideas to write. Indulge yourself :)

"𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔"

AAAAA I didn't expect someone to respond so fast?? But I literally love this <33 Indulge I will, love. I hope you enjoy it <3

----

Sebastian x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, OOC(??), Jealousy, Possessive bf, Established Relationship, Oral sex, PDA, Marking/Hickeys, Praise, Aftercare

Mentions: Reader enjoying coffee/hot chocolate, Sam (Stardew), drinking/alcohol, Use of nicknames (Precious, Sebby)

AO3 Link

----

Sebastian was always an amazing lover. Ever since you two started dating in Pelican Town, he was rough around the edges at first, but that seemed to be just your thing. 

The saloon was bustling with activity tonight. You and Sam were playing pool in the corner while Sebastian refilled his drink. Sam had missed the ball by a long shot, tripping onto the pool table. You couldn't help but laugh as you went over and helped him compose himself. 

Sam chuckled in response to his idiocy and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. The interaction was so simple and innocent, yet it had Sebastian overtaken with a burning sense of jealousy from across the bar. Maybe it wouldn't bother him so much if you weren't so open and nice with Sam, even if he is his best friend. 

When Sebastian returned, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as he kissed you deeply. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue as he searched your mouth. You gasped softly into his mouth, and his grip on your waist tightened. When he finally pulled away for a breath, you spoke with a pant. “What was that for-” you asked curiously, but Sebastian just shrugs. 

The night went on, and Sebastian seemed more aloof than usual, which had you concerned. Along with the passing glares and the clingy antics. Eventually, everyone was starting to head home for the night. Despite Sebastian's feelings, he still took your hand as you two began to walk back home. 

“Sebby, what's wrong with you?” You ask, genuinely concerned. “Mm…you know you belong to me, right?” He rasps as he stops walking and drags you close to him. Chest to chest as he meets your gaze. 

Oh so that's what this was, he was jealous.

“Ah- of course, I'm all yours” you respond reassuringly, but it was also completely honest. 

Sebastian cracked a bit of a smile at that, and it seemed to do him in until you two made it back home. He wasn't much for public inquiries and while your words did mean something. He needed a different type of relief from this situation.

As soon as the door shut behind you both, Sebastian dropped onto the couch and pulled you into his lap. 

“Sebby-” you tried to inquire, but were cut off by a small gasp as he began kissing your neck, his hands firmly holding your hips. 

“Why you gotta be so fucking charming, huh?” He growled as he pulled you in closer. He began roughly sucking on your neck as he groaned in content. 

“What are you talking about?” You struggle to get out as you tangle your hands in his messy hair. But you knew how jealous he got. How possessive he was over you—he wanted the most of your attention. 

“Sam. Always being so fucking nice to everyone and letting him touch you…” he sighed against your neck, his lips moving to another spot. “Guess I'm gonna have to mark this pretty neck as mine; mark you as mine.” He rasped. 

Sebastian sucked on your neck, leaving kisses and hickeys in the wake of his lips. You didn't mind at all. If anything, his possessive attitude had you grinding your hips into his crotch. Seeing the obvious tent start to form in his pants. 

“Yes, please baby~ I'm all yours, you know that” you reassure as a moan leaves your lips. “Good” he responds softly. 

“On your knees, my precious” he asks rather gently. You slide off his lap and onto the floor, sitting on your knees in front of him. You lay your head on his thigh as you reach and free his aching cock from its restraints. 

“So good for me, all fucking mine” he says, placing a hand on the back of your head as he urges you to fill your mouth with him. You have no problems with it. 

You take all of him down your throat with a gag, his long, pretty length with a distinct vein down the underside. It had you gagging already. 

You began sucking on his cock, drool slipping down his shaft and onto his balls as you moaned onto him. 

Sebastian let out moans and grunts; eventually, he pushed your head down and held you there. “So good for me, choking on my cock. You belong to me, you're my precious little thing and I won't let anyone else have you.” he held the back of your head as he began fucking into your mouth, using you to get himself off.

You felt tears threaten to spill from the feeling of gagging on him, but a soothing rub to the back of your head reassured you from his end. 

“Don't cry, precious. Just showing this pretty mouth who it belongs to.” 

That sentence alone had your tight and aroused hole clenching around nothing in anticipation. A part of you wishes he'd just bent you over on the pool table in the saloon and fucked you senseless. Oh god, your thoughts were awful. 

It doesn't take long for Sebastian to become a moaning mess, his cock twitching as he gets close to release. 

He pulls out of your mouth, and you lick up the underside of his cock as you look up at him. “Fuck…finish me off, let me cum on your face. Show you who you belong to” he groans. 

You wrap your hand around his cock as you continue to edge him closer to his release. Your tongue slips over that prominent vein again, causing your boyfriend to moan. 

“I'm gonna cum, precious-” he groans before a deep moan leaves him as he cums onto your face. You swallow what you can manage. 

Sebastian panted as he looked down at you. Neck covering his purple-ish marks, your face splattered with his cum, and eyes teary from him fucking your throat. 

“Good” he praised “I love you, precious” he smiled as he cupped your cheek “I love you too” you smiled. 

Sebastian took extra care to bathe with you and make you coffee/hot chocolate in the morning. Kissing you softly as he praised you. You definitely don't mind being his. 

[actual-changeling]

I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

-

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

[traumasurvivors]

Here’s a link to a blog post on my personal website on a topic that I think is very important.

I’ve also put it below the read more for people that don’t like external links. But if you're okay with it, checking it out on my personal website is really nice (and even giving it a heart if you can)! I don't make money from my website, so there are no intrusive ads or anything like that to stop you from reading the article.

Embracing Your Inner Child

This applies to anyone, but I really want to emphasize this to my fellow survivors who went through trauma as children and/or teenagers.

I’m so sorry you lost part, most or all of your childhood. That doesn’t mean it’s too late to give your inner child what you can. This includes comfort but it also includes doing the things you didn’t get to if you can.

Play the fun games. Buy the tasty treats. Go on adventures.

It’s never too late to feel a little more of the kind of joy you had (or should have had) as a child. You may not be able to be a child again, but you can still help and support your inner child.

You might have been told that a fun idea you had was “silly” or even “stupid.” When you have those thoughts now, instead of rejecting it, embrace the “silly” idea and let yourself enjoy it. It’s not shameful or wrong to do the things your inner child wants to do. It’s okay to be “immature” sometimes, even if you’re twenty years old. Or thirty. Or sixty. I just want to say that I don’t think any of this is immature, but I know that is a bias and judgement a lot of us might pass on ourselves. 

A short, not at all complete list of things you might do for your inner child:

Watch childhood movies or tv shows (Did you watch “Blues Clues”, or “Pokemon”? Maybe “The Land Before Time”? There’s no reason you can’t still enjoy them.)

Listen to “silly” music, maybe singing along or dancing to it (for me, one favourite is “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King” from The Lion King. I know every word and have a dance party everytime it comes on my shuffle.)

Go to the park and use the swings (I don’t know why, but flying up just a few feet can make me forget all my “grown-up” worries)

Have a treat just because (maybe that big sundae your parents never let you have, or the chicken nuggets you haven’t had in a decade). Maybe you want to fulfil your childhood dream of having ice cream for breakfast! 

Go to the toy store - maybe even get some stuffed animals or other toy items. (I just recently realized that I can fulfill my childhood dream of collecting certain toys that I never got to have when I was younger!) 

Ride a roller coaster and scream your head off on the way down (I like to try to be in the very first car)

Make creative, crafty stuff - like a painting or drawing, or decorating a picture on construction paper with googly eyes and glitter or a clay model with a weirdly shaped head (even if the result looks like something you’d expect to see in a kindergarten class, or the process makes a mess that looks like a glitter bomb went off)

Another aspect of embracing your inner child is trying to give your inner child the person you needed when you were a child. 

This might mean standing up for yourself when others try to put you down or take credit for things you’ve done, even (or especially) if no one else spoke up for you when you were a child. 

It might mean offering comfort and compassion to yourself, and not being too hard on yourself when you make mistakes that you would have been insulted for as a child or don’t know something that “everyone learns as a child.” Maybe now you can teach yourself that accidents happen, and spilling a drink or breaking a plate is not the disaster and failure of character that you were told as a child. 

It might mean being patient with yourself when something is harder to do than you feel like it should be (whether you actually aren’t able to do it as easily as others, or you have unrealistic expectations of its difficulty because of the expectations put on you as a child). There are lots of instructional videos out there to help you to gain basic cooking or cleaning skills. If you never really learned to read, there are programs to help you. If you weren’t allowed or able to learn to manage your emotions or relationships in healthy ways, there’s help out there for you. There is absolutely no shame in not learning any kind of skills you feel you “should” have learned as a child, and it is okay to learn them as an adult.

You may have had to grow up too fast. You may not have been allowed to do the fun things. You may have suffered trauma that shattered your childhood. I’m here to tell you that you still have an inner child, and embracing that inner child is good for you. Just because you’re an adult, at any age, doesn’t mean that you’re too old to have fun.

No one else gets to decide what’s right for you - you get to decide what you enjoy and what you want.

And it’s never too late to remember, indulge, listen to, and embrace your inner child. Let them be a part of how you choose to move forward. It’s time for us to realize that there is no one way to be an adult, and we get to decide what being an adult means to us. And if that means I want to rent a bouncy castle for my birthday, then that is my perfectly valid version of an adult birthday (a birthday which my inner child would be thrilled about, by the way).

[harlowsthetic]

Missing Anniversary.

Featuring. Jack Harlow x Fem! Wife! Reader.

Anonymous Request. Can you write a jack fic where he misses an important date like anniversary or something so a little angsty that turns into fluff.

Summary. Jack misses an anniversary and you’re upset.

General Tags. Angst and Fluff.

Content Warnings. Crying that's it.

Word Count. 809.

Notes. Anon, I hope I did your request justice, I'm so nervous, this is my first fic that's out on this acc and I really wish I did good, please go easy on me. If you'd like to be tagged when future works are out, you can fill out that taglist form.

Extra. Requests are open, please read my rules beforehand! / Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured.

Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

When Jack came home, you were sitting on the couch strolling through your Instagram not even throwing a glance his way. He walks in and smiles when he sees you. “Hey babe, it was a good day at the studio, got a lot done but I missed you though.” He said with a huge smile on his face as he walked up to you going to kiss your lips but you moved your head slightly so that his lips met your cheek. 

“What was that?” He questioned but you just ignored him and kept scrolling through your phone. You were pissed and you had every right to be, today was your wedding anniversary and you thought to make it special by cooking his favorite food and setting up his favorite lingerie that he could take off of you later but he forgot. You tried giving him the benefit of the doubt like maybe his phone stopped working but he texted you earlier asking you to send a picture of the cologne he regularly used.

You knew he would be busy with his album, and you were fine with that, you supported him every step of the way but you never expected him to forget an important day like this, you treasured this day so much, the day you married your high school sweetheart so him forgetting made you feel hurt, you’d have been happy if he just sent a text, it was the thought that count.

“So you not gon tell me why you’re acting weird?” Jack was getting quite annoyed at being ignored especially when he came home early to be with you since he missed you throughout the day, you were the only thing on his mind when he was at the studio so for you to be acting this way towards him was crazy. You simply rolled your eyes and got up and walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you walked to the dining table and picked up the plates of food that were now cold, and made your way to the kitchen to wrap them with saran wrap. 

Jack wondered what he could’ve done to make you this mad at him but he came up empty. What he did know was he wasn’t going to let you go to bed angry. “Babe, please tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” he spoke softly as he walked into the kitchen, watching you put the food in the fridge. You ignored him again and were about to make your way to the bedroom but Jack immediately got in front of you, stopping you from taking another step. “Nuh-uh, you know we don’t do silent treatment and no going to sleep angry at each other,” he says as he looks down at you. 

“Jackman move out of my way,” you said as you got annoyed with him being in your presence, not wanting to look into his eyes knowing if you do, you would give in like you always did. Jack was surprised by the use of his first name since you always called him ‘babe’ or ‘baby’. “Not until you tell me what's going on.” 

“Do you know what today is? Why don’t you check the date!” You yelled as you stepped back putting some distance between you and him. You watched him pull out his phone with a quizzical look on his face and when he sees the date, you turn your back towards him not wanting to make eye contact since you might start crying at any moment. “Baby… I’m so sorry, I thought it was tomorrow, I swear I have everything planned,” you stayed silent and he came closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him and that’s all it took for the tears to roll down your cheeks and he started rocking you back and forth.

“You know I love you right?” He says soothingly as he starts tracing shapes on your stomach, you nod your head silently and lean more into his touch. “I promise you, I thought the 25th was tomorrow and had everything ready for us to celebrate,” 

“It wouldn’t hurt you to start checking your calendar on your phone,” your response makes him chuckle. “Yes, I’ll be more up to date from now on, can we start over our anniversary for tomorrow, trust me you gon love what I have planned.” 

You turn around in his arms and look into his blue eyes. “Yes we can, I’m sorry I was mean to you,” he shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, I deserved it, I love you,” he rubs your arm a bit. “I love you too, babe,” he connects his lips with yours, holding you close to him not letting you go, come tomorrow he will make it all up to you.

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