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rkvriki · 2 months

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ enhypen obliviously in love

hi.......lmfao i keep disappearing i swear i'm alive but my isnpo has been going down the drain but i got this cute lil idea also to take a break of all the smutty things i've been posting lolz... anyways hope you enjoy this one !

make sure to leave feedback and reblog! my requests are closed and my talk box is always open so lets talk!

WARNINGS ! none really i think?? this is just not my best work im sorry </3 word count: 1.9k a/n: sorry that some of them, mainly hee's, are smaller than others, my brain isn't functioning and i had a writer's block during this and if it's not goo it's bc i quite forced myself to write this bc i wanted to post sth :(

୨୧ LEE HEESEUNG ! - trying to hold your hand and failing

you and heeseung met through mutual friends in your first year of college and you became almost inseparable ever since then. in the beginning of it, you would only be together when the whole group was, but as time went by and you both started feeling more than just platonic feelings you two started hanging out alone as well. it was usual for heeseung to walk you to your apartment after classes and today was no different. you two walked side by side, the sun almost setting behind you. it was mostly quiet except for the background chatting and the small talk you two would make about something you saw. you could feel heeseung’s hand brushing against yours from time to time and you were internally cursing him out for not holding your hand already. after a few moments of silence, you heard heeseung sigh as he gained courage to hold your hand. his hand got closer to yours but- oh! a light post came between you two. needless to say heeseung was a blushing mess while you laughed at him.

୨୧ PARK JONGSEONG ! - confronting you about it

anyone had to be really blind to not notice the romantic connection there was between you and jay. it was so obvious you were both in love with each other, it was almost painful how one of the sides didn’t notice. that side being you. it’s not like you didn’t like jay romantically, because you do. a lot. but you felt like he just saw you as a best friend he tends to protect a lot. jay didn’t really show it, but he gets really frustrated when he tries to make a move on you in a subtle way, only for you to put him in the friend zone, but it’s all unintentional. every time someone tells you “jay totally likes you.” you’re quick to dismiss them because he would never see you like that. even though you’re the one saying it, it breaks you inside. until one day, you’re both in a diner, sharing fries and a milkshake and you can see jay fidgeting nervously and bouncing his leg repeatedly. “you’re restless, what’s going on?” you ask him, worried. jay sighs heavily and props his elbows on the table, staring at you with a serious expression. “look, i don’t know if i should just give up, because at this point you have to be pretending not to know.” he says “T-to know what?” he laughs at that. “that i like you, dummy.”

୨୧ SIM JAEYUN ! - tries to kiss you and fails

as childhood friends you and jake were always expected to end up dating by your fellow family members. you would always brush off any comments about you two (deep down you wish they were true) while jake just smiled like a fool while looking at you. it was no surprise when jake told his friends he liked you. it wasn’t hard to notice how he felt about you, seen the way he looks at you with glimmering eyes as he took in every word you say. he has never really tried to hide how he felt about you. he wasn’t ashamed of it and couldn’t wait for the moment you realized he liked you, because deep down he knew you felt like him too. it’s funny to him how he’s always making flirty comments and giving you kind of romantic presents and still you just thought he was playing his role as your best friend. but still, even though it was all funny and entertaining to watch, jake was tired of waiting and he decided to just directly show you how he feels. so that’s how you find yourself sitting in the park bench with him as layla plays around. jake takes a quiet deep breath as his hand comes up to brush your hair from your face, making you face him. he takes that as an opportunity to lean down. you, thinking he was gonna whisper something, turned your face to the side, making him bump his head against you. he starts laughing at you, making you confused. “you can’t really see it, can you?”

୨୧ PARK SUNGHOON ! - misunderstanding gone right ?

no one who knew you two understood how in hell you and sunghoon weren’t a couple. it was so obvious you both liked each other but still none of you seemed to do anything about it. you two were your class’s representatives so you two were almost always together and it wasn’t too hard to notice the lingering touches or stares you shared. but something the other students didn’t know was that you two had actually talked about your “feelings”. one day sunghoon almost overheard you telling your friend you liked him. “you like me?” he had asked “no! no, i don’t like you, sunghoon.” you answered trying to play it off. he nodded, his lips pursing. “good, then because i’m in love with someone else.”. it was something along those lines and you two had never talked about it again, but the tension never left. it felt heavy on you and it was painful to spend time alone with sunghoon so you settled that you were gonna tell him the truth. “remember that day you asked me if i liked you?” he hummed as he stopped in his tracks. “well, i lied. i like you, actually. i don’t want things to get awkward because you don’t feel the same but i needed to be honest.” his eyes widened as he stared at you like you were crazy. “are you kidding me? i only said i didn’t like you because you said you didn’t like me.” you gasped and pointed an accusing finger at him “why did you lie then? you said you were in love-” “hey! don’t put the blame on me now you lied too.” “well, we still can fix it right?” you said laughing making him do the same.

୨୧ KIM SUNOO ! - “PFT! who would ever like me?”

you and sunoo weren’t the closest people ever but you two spent a lot of time together since pretty much all of your friends were mutual. still, that fact didn’t stop you from developing a silly crush on him that quickly turned into something more serious the more you got to know him in the very few times the two of you were left alone after a group hangout. no one knew about it except for your best friend. you never told sunoo, not because you were afraid of rejection or him being rude because with how sweet his personality is, he would’ve rejected you in such a friendly manner it would make you think he’s reciprocating the feelings, but because no one like him would ever like you, he was way out of your league. so, confessing was definitely out of question, no matter how much your best friend would insist you would simply not do it. but in reality, it wasn’t really like that. one day you were hanging out with sunoo and your best friend at a cat cafe when suddenly in the conversation you said something along the words of “who would ever like?” and bold sunoo, was not afraid to hide his sincere feelings and answered with “i do.” he smiled while you looked up blushing furiously. your best friend laughing maniacally. “w-what?” sunoo chuckled at your reaction. “i thought i made it quite obvious that i liked you, silly.” oh! who would’ve guessed!

୨୧ YANG JUNGWON ! - heard you liked “someone else”

you and jungwon had met each other in sophomore year of highschool and it was safe to say there was a connection instantly that was more than just a platonic one. you two quickly became attached at the hip. if jungwon said he was going somewhere it was sure that you would be here two, if you were being invited somewhere they could already expect the “can jungwon come along?” question, and vice-versa. it wasn’t strange when people came up to either you or him and asked if you were dating each other and it honestly shocked everyone when you both would always answer no to it, even your own girlfriends found your “friendship” strange. they did not find the idea of a boy-girl friendship weird or impossible to exist but they just couldn’t see your dynamic as friends so it was bound for them to question you. you heard the question so many times you decided to just tell them “fine! yes, i like him so, what?” you saw their shocked faces but they weren’t looking at you. you looked behind you seeing jungwon behind you. when you locked eyes he was quick to turn his back and walk away making you panic. a few days have gone by after that and you decided you needed to talk to him. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i didn’t want things to get ruined by this.” jungwon stared at you “who even is tha guy?” he asked making you look at him as if he had three heads. “what?” you asked “what what?” “jungwon the guy is literally you, i thought that was settled already.” jungwon stayed silent before laughing like a maniac. “if you’re here to make fun of me you can-” jungwon shut you off with a kiss, making you relaize where things went wrong.

୨୧ NISHIMURA RIKI ! - i don’t even know how to word this one

let’s settle one thing. you two knew you both liked each other. romantically. you just don’t bother on labelling it or directly showing it to each other. everyone around you found your dynamic honestly weird but to you two it was more simple than people put it to be. it all started when you were really oblivious about ni-ki’s feelings for you so he decided to hint that he liked you more than a friend. like one time you were walking to his house and he just shoot “you look cute.” but you didn’t quite hear what he said, distracted by a dog “what did you say?” he sighed “i said you look like a fruit.” “riki that does not make sense, but whatever you say.” and he started gradually getting bolder. “i can’t get this song out of my head.” you told him during class “i can’t get you out of my head.” oh! that was new information for you “thanks…?” at this point you were acting dumb for him and he couldn’t take it anymore so he got even more straightforward. during one of your daily walks you were rambling about a flower you saw on the way and he just let you talk as his hand sneakily grabbed yours, making you stop talking and falter in your steps “what?” he asked as if it was nothing “n-nothing!” he smiled as he kept walking along with you. after that day he noticed a change. a good one. and that’s when he realized you had realized so he decided to just get to the point “is it weird if i kiss you?” he asked when you were eating lunch in the school garden. you put your drink down and turned to look at him. “honestly, riki? yes. do i care? no.” so with that he grabbed your face, kissing you as he smiled against your lips.

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thatdeadaquarius · 7 months

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About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

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ineffable-romantics · 10 months

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Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

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theemporium · 11 months

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i’m so happy you’re in a mauraders mood bc so am i and your content is fulfilling all of my needs ty ty!!!

with that, thoughts on james getting hurt at quidditch and reader comes in to check on him? drugged up jamie confesses love to reader?? something?! idk this is is why you’re the writer and not me lol

thank you for requesting!��

It was a nasty fall.

You knew quidditch could be quite a rough sport and you knew every player got hurt at some point. Thankfully, most of the injuries that came out of the games could be easily healed and the players would be back in class the next day, resting up before their next game. It was very rare for anything worse than some bedrest and easy days to be prescribed to an injured quidditch player.

But that didn’t settle the pit of worry in your stomach when you watched James fall. Between the speed and angle he fell at, and the fact the game had to halt for thirty minutes before they could move him off the pitch, it didn’t help that none of you were allowed to see him until a whole two hours after his accident.

However, the second you received permission from McGonagall, you had quickly joined the others in rushing down to the infirmary wing to see how James was doing. What you weren’t expecting was to find a very loopy James in place of the boy you knew.

“HEY, IT’S MY FRIENDS!”

A slightly irritated Madam Pomfrey tried hushing the boy but it was useless as he tried to sit up in his bed by himself—an act that was difficult with the sling confining his right arm—as you all surrounded the bed he was situated in.

“How you feeling, mate? You took quite the tumble out there,” Sirius asked, watching with some amusement as the bespectacled boy grinned lazily at the group.

“I feel fine—great, even!” James insisted, letting out a giggle. “I feel fucking fantastic, Pads! You should try some of this stuff!”

Sirius snorted. “Maybe next time.”

“You too, Moony,” James continued as his eyes searched over the group. “And you, Evans. And don’t think you can hide from me, Mary! And—oh.”

His loud and eccentric movements came to a halt as his eyes fell on you, his lips parting. The only sign you had that he was still alive was the slow blinks as he stared at you, his cheeks flushed and your concern peaked at the idea of him suddenly gaining a fever.

“James?” you called out, your brows furrowed together when he didn’t answer. “Are you feeling okay? Do we need to get Madam Pomfrey again?”

“Moony,” James finally whispered, still staring at you like he was lost in a daze.

“Yeah, bud?” Remus was soon by his side, frowning a little in concern as the boy reached out to grip his arm.

“I can see an angel,” James whispered and Sirius had to cover his mouth to muffle his laughs. “Can you see her?”

“Uh, what?” Remus muttered in confusion.

“An angel!” he insisted as he pointed in your direction. “Look at her! She is gorgeous, Moony! One of the prettiest fucking girls I’ve ever seen!”

Your cheeks burned as you pressed your lips together to try and contain your grin.

“That’s not an angel, Prongs,” Remus told him, now quite amused as he gently patted his friend on the back. “She’s your friend.”

James whirled his head around. “I’m friends with an angel?”

“I—” Remus sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, buddy, you are.”

“Woah,” James murmured as he turned to look back at you. “You make my chest feel funny.”

You frowned a little. “Funny? Maybe we should—”

“Like my heart is going boom-da-boom really fast,” James continued, nodding his head. “I like that it does that for you.”

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“Who would have thought it would take a bunch of painkillers for Prongs to finally admit how he feels?” Sirius commented from the other side of his bed, grinning widely as his friend stared lovingly at you.

“Shut up, Sirius,” you murmured, slightly shy.

“He’s in love with you, sweetheart,” Sirius told you in a know-it-all voice.

“No, he doesn’t, he just—”

“Yes, I am,” James interrupted, nodding his head in confirmation. “Like, love love. The good kinda love. The one where I get to kiss you and stuff.”

You tried to tamper down the butterflies in your stomach. “Kiss me and stuff?”

“All the stuff,” James murmured, yawning slightly as the painkillers started to really kick in.

“How about you tell me this when you’re not high and we will see where we go,” you muttered, smiling softly as you watched him try to fight the strong urge to sleep.

“Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?” James murmured, reaching his hand out to you.

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers. “Promise. Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, Angel.”

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c4qwp · 5 months

Text

felix catton x fem!reader

| he falls hard for you

📎 tags : fluff, female reader, felix being older than you by a year, fanon of felix bc i’m such a bad writer guys, bad orthography, (my first post…), felix being a fucking cutie patootie, (y/n) not mentioned

📎 words count : oof idk but not a lot 💀🔥🔥🔥😜😜😜

📎 author's note : this is my first post (so first story), don’t hesitate to comment to help me to progress! english isn’t my first language, idk if felix is fanon but i tried my best to write him like i how i see him

felix was a charming, flirty, wealthy and captivating man. everyone loved him. everyone wanted to be around him. it exhausted him. people just wouldn't leave him alone. especially the girls. but he didn’t care about them, you were the exception.

you've only known felix for 6 months, but that hasn't stopped you from liking each other's personalities —and physiques. you're a new student from california studying at oxford, and the handsome british guy hasn't stopped coming to see you to find out more about you.

it all started with a laugh he heard in the hallway. a cute one he thought. and that's how he first saw you.

"hello?" you called loudly when you noticed eyes on you.

the sunlight illuminated felix perfectly as he met your gaze. you were just too cute. your doe eyes watching him while scanning him up and down due to his height.

"hey sorry- ive never seen you here before, are you new?" he asked.

as you were telling your friend to wait for you, an other guy appeared besides the stranger.

"felix where the fuck have you been mate??" a man with curly hair said.

"dude i’m busy let’s talk later" felix replied.

"hey sor-"

and you were gone.

felix didn’t even catch your name and it disappointed him. he likes to meet new people, even more when they’re cute like you.

a month passed after this rather short meeting. as you were revising in the library, a voice called out to you.

"oh hey arent you the new student?"

felix. you heard about him, only good thingd though. you’ve met him but his — pretty face, made you speechless. you felt shy in front of him. now there you are, sitting like an idiot and saying nothing. gosh.

"oh — uhmm hey!" you relied a bit nervously.

"hey! sorry i think we'd met before but hadn't talked more" he said.

"yes i remember." you introduced yourself and smiled.

"i’m felix catton nice to meet you as well" he smiled in turn.

"yeahh i heard about you, felix" you smirked and closed your book.

"oh yeah? i hope you've heard good things about me haha" he said.

"mmhh who knows?" you teased him.

while there was a small blank, he glimpsed your book.

"wait aint no way you’re reading harry potter?!" he said, trying to whisper as much as possible so as not to disturb the other students.

"way. i really like reading books. they're better than movies. and this is not the first time that i’m reading it." you replied.

"it’s my favorite book and it feels good to meet someone who thinks the same about it." he said with a big smile on his face.

it was getting late and you had to get back to your dorm to phone your best friend, who unfortunately wasn't at the same university as you. you exchanged phone numbers and then left.

one day.

one fucking day.

you two were apart for only a day. he sent you the first message and you answered them. he couldn't stop thinking about your smile, your eyes and your voice. it was the same for you.

even though you'd only been messaging each other for 2 weeks, he asked you if you wanted to go out somewhere. of course, you agreed and offered to go for a coffee to take a break from studying.

you put on a beautiful white summer dress that showed off your body.

‘i hope i’m not overdoing it...’ you thought.

03:17PM

"i’m so sorry for being late—…" you whispered to the man with a glass of soda against his lips, letting him know you were tired and done with the conversation. your eyes sparkling with joy, your lips curling up into a gleeful smile when you locked eyes with the person you had been craving to see all evening. he hadn't missed one night, not a single one. he was right on time. right there to stay with you, make you feel comfortable, talk to you all night.

you'd laugh, he'd watch.

he'd talk, you'd listen.

"no no don’t wo—" as he turned to answer you, he was stunned by your beauty.

his eyes wandered up and down your face. you noticed him and smiled at him.

‘i hate the way you make me feel — my chest begin to tighten when my eyes lock onto yours, yet i find it merely impossible to look away.’

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x y/n #saltburn #saltburn x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #fluff #felix catton fluff #fanfic #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #one shot

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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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long winded ass post I contemplated not writing but did it anyways. read if you’d like or ignore lmao.

so I feel as though this kind of goes without saying but a lot has changed on tumblr and the vibe has shifted a lot, sadly, not for the better either :/ I thought about this for a while and although last week, I was not posting any new content due to the strike, I’ve decided to step away from writing in general after this month. I could sit here and go on a tangent about how it’s the ‘algorithm’ and ‘dying fandoms’ but to me, this boils down to the fact that I refuse to exhaust myself to be unappreciated + disrespected. That’s not to say I’m ungrateful to everyone who reblogs and comments on my works all the time because I am incredibly grateful! I love each of you and I look forward to reading your tags/thoughts. However, it’s not lost on me that the anime fandom in general is becoming shrouded in toxicity and many of us are being pushed away. We’re in an age where people are seen as content machines and not humans so others feel entitled to their art and feel no need to be kind, understanding or empathetic to that person’s feelings. I’m not wasting my time trying to teach people manners that they should’ve learned a long time ago. I refuse to share my craft with people like that. And to say the quietest part out loud: y’all don’t want black writers around, PERIOD. One scroll through the dash shows that much. As someone who’s written primarily for AOT (not changing btw) and specifically the black side of the fandom, it’s almost laughable at the extreme lengths that ppl have gone through to see it be erased. And I don’t mean getting fics hit with labels or reporting (that failed so they switched to plan B.) since I began back writing in 2020-21, it was obvious that it was the most popular among black girls and I remember ppl telling me to write for them. Hell, it’s the sole reason I even watched. Needless to say, I fell in love with the show and it holds a special place in my heart. However, I realized I didn’t need any of the original material. Not only that, in all the years I’ve been writing, it’s the first time I’ve seen so many black girls resonating and happy with a group of characters. It was the first and only time I’ve seen stories where I didn’t feel as though them being a black character was a hidden secret or toned down to appeal to others (no shade). It was in my face and proud, even if I didn’t personally resonate with the reader or concept of the story. It still felt good coming from a fandom where I was literally the ONLY black writer in it. Fast forward and I clearly see that now, it’s not welcomed. We could sit here and blame it on non-blk (yt) having the problems but that’s a load of bullshit and the only enemies we have are one another. It’s been other black writers who have littered the tags with discourse abt the same stupid topic to avoid new fics being seen. It’s been other black writers who have switched fandoms when they were no longer the ONLY ones bc coexisting is just too damn hard apparently. It’s been other black authors who have made it blatantly clear that they are only interested in seeing and creating stories that are palatable to other races so they won’t be perceived in a negative light or to be seen as one of the ‘good ones’. Even down to not using black reader tags or avoiding coded language. So much so, they are comfortable laughing at anti-black rhetoric being pushed on other apps so as long as their new favs are not the brunt of the joke.

I’m not here to tell anybody how or what to write. I’m not here to say you ONLY have to like one show but what I am saying is that i will NOT be spending hours and days agonizing over a fic for it to be minimized to a joke for a bitch on TikTok. I will not spend the little free time I have trying to crunch and finish a fic for it not do well but watch y’all pile in my mentions to argue over nonsense. And I won’t sit here and watch y’all purposely try to run other black writers away bc they don’t fit ur aesthetic. Fiction is fiction and whether you resonate with it or not, it’s expression. I’m a boring ass country bumpkin from the middle of nowhere, Florida who’s got social anxiety, chronically ill, neurodivergent and is in bed by 10:00. I don’t smoke, never had sex and I literally never leave the house unless I’m grocery shopping. I never have and never will live the life of any of my characters, even the most tame ones. But I write for EVERY black girl and want everyone of them to be seen. The one space where that seems to be allowed is obviously not welcomed anymore. Arguing and trying to defend ourselves against people who are committed to misunderstanding us is pointless. Minimizing us down to ‘baby mama’, ‘hoodrat’ fics, simply bc you no longer like certain characters (many of which you all were writing for not too long ago) is quite frankly clown and coon ass behavior. Watching y’all become enraged by tropes that are used by ever race, every fandom, etc but turning the blind eye bc it suits ur narrative is fucking hypocritical and laughable at best.

I’m not insecure in my writing. Never have been and never will be. I know I pour everything I have into creating the best work I can and it’s for that reason that I won’t allow it to be treated like trash. I have over 250 drafts in my Google docs and best believe, that’s where they’ll stay until I see fit. Although I know it’ll probably mean leaving the last place I have any sense of community and social interaction in general, it’s not worth coming on here angry everyday in defense mode. Its not worth getting out of my character over and I rather just not be around if it means I have to play mean girl. My mind may change and all of this will just have been me getting shit off my chest but as of right now, this account will be archived come February 28th. Thank you to everybody who’s supported me this far and gave me a safe space. I love all of you so very much and hope that we can enjoy the rest of this month together 🫶🏾 🤍

#cherry chats 🍒#tw rant #tw discourse #tw long post #happy black history month lmao #writing #fanfic writer

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teyamsatan · 11 months

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍𝕀𝕀: 𝕄𝕒𝕪𝕓𝕖 𝕎𝕖'𝕧𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕕 𝔼𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: You and Neteyam finally confront each other, after a seven year war that left you broken and bruised.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death, confrontation, admission of feelings), smut, strong language.

wc: 7k words

a/n: we're almost at the end, besties. i want to say a massive thank you for being patient with me, i have struggled with writer's block for a while now, and my life is incredibly hectic at the moment, but thank you for continuing to inspire me to write this story that has come to mean so much to me :(. i hope you enjoy this chapter, that i once again somehow feel weirdly insecure about hahaha, and i hope you'll find it was worth the wait. also this is only mildly proof read bc i am exhausted and i need to sleep ;((( i'll come back to it in the morning i promise x (also pls someone comment on the fact in the photo vi's looking up and he's looking down cause you know - rise and fall together and all)

pls don't forget to leave a comment or a reblog and tell me your thoughts, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: txepvi - spark, oare - moon, nawm - great, syä - bitter, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, tewng - loincloth, tsakarem - tsa'hik in training, yawne - beloved

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

I carved my name into your ribcage We talked of lands away from this cage

"Dad always talks about Earth as if it was a dying hole, but... I don't know."

Neteyam's head was positioned snugly in your lap as you both stared intently at the sky, trying to make sense of the shapes of clouds, and the way they passed you by like birds in the night sky, never to be seen again, just a memento of the present and how every moment was unique and precious, and needed to be cherished. You both loved doing that, in between practice sessions, or before, or after, a way to ground you and remind you there's still beauty in this world outside of what you were being taught, of how everything was in preparation for a grisly reality you both struggled to come to terms with.

"Yes?"

"The little videos we've seen, of the movies and shows Norm and Max and the other humans like to watch... and the books they make us read during English lessons and the music... it doesn't seem that bad, you know? It seems they were happy, and... good. It seemed they lived for more than just fighting and greed, more than this."

You thought about it for a while. He was right. Humans were... beautiful, in their own ways. They had love and heart and soul in a way you never thought possible - it seemed there was always beauty to be found even in the darkest of corners, even in the most unsightly of places, and that gave you hope.

"I want to be more than this, too."

Your eyes snapped from the sky to him, and his eyes met yours, boring into you with a vehemence that almost scared you. When he rose from his spot, he faced you, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath fanning over you, and your heart stumbled in your chest at the proximity and the way his smile always managed to take your breath away.

"I want to know more than this. I will learn, and I will work hard, and I will fight, but Vi, one day, you and me, we'll be free of this. Free to do whatever we want, free to spend our days like the humans in the movies, just happy and ourselves. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes. I'd like that."

You said, don't fret love, someday I'll be my own man, I'll be free Oh, but darling, did you mean Darling, did you mean free from me?

“O’i’en…” your voice was hoarse and barely there, a croaking whisper you hardly recognised as your own, but still there. You were still here, and at least for that, you were grateful. Because there was more to your life. So much more you wanted to do and see, so much you felt you were made for and deserved, so much you still have to repent and atone for. Your mind was scrambled with visions of your past, so many of them you’ve lost count, the continuous onslaught barely ceasing as you woke, and you still felt like in a liminal state of being, not quite dead, but not quite alive, either. In those dreams, images of your old Neteyam were intertwined with his face now, much colder, much wiser, somehow even more beautiful, and confessions of “I love you” mingled with hushed whispers of “why is she not awake yet?” and commotion beyond your understanding. You needed answers. The battle, that now felt like a lifetime away to you, also somehow felt like it had just finished, and you rose from your spot with only one thought in mind: Oare was hurt. She was shot, and you needed to find her.

You wondered if it was fate, or Eywa's doing, that O'i'en was the first person you ran into, even as you were trying to avoid any semblance of another soul, the guilt and sadness mingling in you with flashes of worst-case scenarios, ones in which your distracted mind led to deaths that you will forever carry on your shoulders, that you will forever blame yourself for, that you were sure other people would, too, ones which you were too scared to prove and too spent to disprove, so you settled for ignorance and denial, at least until you found your ikran.

"Oh, Eywa, you're alive!" you were taken aback by his surprise, and by his pure, unadulterated relief and happiness as his eyes found your form, limping and bruised, with bloodied and torn garments and yet still... alive. You didn’t think O’i’en would ever want to see you again, much less acknowledge you or talk to you, but here he was, running, as much as he could, the gash in his leg preventing him from any true momentum, but still, he ran to you and enveloped you in a big hug, that you couldn’t help but reciprocate, melting into his all-too-familiar touch that’s always felt comforting and safe, and never bruising or cold.

You sighed as your mind, much as it always did, brought to its forefront another face, another body, another man that never ceased to pull you out of the moment and into whatever fantasy your mind concocted to replace reality with. As you tightened your arms around him, your palms flat against his back, you noticed your fingers being coated in warm liquid, and the feel of it, as well as the smell of metal that hit you immediately after, made you gasp and break the embrace, using whatever force you had to turn him around and inspect the wound you knew had to be bad enough, if so much blood was pouring out of it, but still couldn’t help be shocked when you were proven right.

“Fuck, your back…”

“I know… I haven’t had the chance to go see the healers yet.”

“You haven’t ha- are you serious right now? Come, let’s go now.” You almost forgot about the your plan to avoid people, too concerned for the ugly looking gash pulsating blood that trickled down his toned back, until it soaked in his soiled tewng. He didn’t let you move him, instead taking your wrists in his hand and holding you still.

“You look like you’re about to collapse, how are you still so bossy? Besides… there’s people who need it more than me.” The purple twinge in his cheeks let you know this wasn’t quite the truth. Not the whole truth. O’i’en was the most selfless person you’ve ever met, and yet, this wasn’t the whole truth. You looked tired and broken, scared and forlorn, and yet, with all your might, you tried to contort your face into something you hoped resembled the way Jake would raise the hairs above his eyes in a clearly disapproving expression, and while you lacked the most important aspect of that whole stare, it clearly worked, because he winced and broke the look you shared, choosing a spot on the ground instead.

“After… everything, I just didn’t know if I could…or should… go get help from the Tsa’hik. It feels like everywhere I look, you follow. I knew you were hurt as well, and I didn’t know if I could handle seeing you like that, or seeing you at all. But now that you’re here, I realise… I’m just happy you’re alive.”

You smiled, a small feat that felt like the hardest task you’ve ever been assigned, but still, you were glad to know there was still something salvageable about your relationship with the man you once thought you’d spent the rest of your life with.

“Come, sit. I’ll clean the wound myself.”

“You shouldn’t-“ He stopped when he noticed your look. You were too tired to be trifled with, and he was smart enough to know that.

You promised home, the kind I'd never known But here we are, skin and flesh and beating hearts And I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing wrong

You worked in silence, as much as you could, the thoughts spiralling in your head, worse with each passing second, and although you didn’t want to ask, you knew you couldn’t avoid it any longer, not when he looked so sad and despondent, not when the gash in his back spoke to a battle fiercer than you wanted to picture, not when you couldn’t help wonder if it was all on you. With a sigh, you spoke, and watched as he went rigid with every word uttered.

“What happened, O’i’en?”

“What do you remember?”

“Nothing. I remember falling… i remember Oare getting shot.” You wince at the memory, at how it was your unsteady, tired, distracted mind that made her a vulnerable target.

“Nothing else.”

O'i'en's whole body stiffened, and your hand stilled midair, shivers pulsating in your body as dread enveloped it.

“What. Happened. O’i’en?”

"After you fell... the battle... took a turn for the worse. A lot of Na'vi died, a lot of our mounts died, too..."

"The Olo'eyktan and Tsakarem tried their best, we all did, but without you and Neteyam..."

The guilt that was big enough to almost crumble you into a mess of sobs and broken shards on the ground dulled just for a moment while his words rang in your ears, echoing until they clicked, until you made sense of their meaning.

"Neteyam...? Where was Neteyam, why wasn't he fighting?"

His body turns to face you again, his barely patched-up wound forgotten in the moment that felt ever-lasting, but not like how time stands still as you're enveloped in a kiss, but like a nightmare you can't escape from, where a moment lasts hours, where every scream is expelled in slow-motion and the monsters get closer and closer with each breath that gets lodged in your dry, hoarse throat.

"He tried to catch you, but couldn't. I think he took you back to the village. He didn't return after. They say..."

"They say he hasn't left your tent since. We've all been working, trying to get everyone back, ready for the funeral, but he... he never left the Tsa'hik's tent."

"You're wrong." What he was saying made no sense. Neteyam has done nothing but wish for your demise ever since you were both nothing more than mere children. His hatred never diminished through time, and neither did yours. You both despised each other more and more each day, with every year passed, with every instance in which neither of you relented or found it in you to be better and take the high road. This whole ordeal, this whole nightmare that only started when you woke up, it was his fault. The fact that so many people died, that you were in this state, that Oare.... fuck. Oare.

“Where are you going? You need to take it easy.”

“I need to find her. I need to make sure she’s ok, she’s probably in pain and suffering and I should be the-“

You stop when you notice his grieving grimace, his eyes fixed on the ground, tears falling at his feet, that you followed from his eyes to their demise as they splattered on the ground, the droplets hitting your ankles in the process.

“No.”

Silence. Dead silence. Death silence. Silence that you couldn’t help fill with a crescendo of denial, louder and higher pitched with every new attempt.

“No, please. Tell me you’re wrong.”

“I saw her… in the lineup.”

“The lineup?”

“Of all the dead… dead animals and na’vi. So many of them, i lost count. She was there… I’m so sorry.”

Your tears mingled with his own as they collapsed on your feet and on the grass, and you forgot for a second of your rule - no crying in front of people. You forgot this as you forgot everything else, even your own name pushed from your memory as it was flooded instead with images of her, of your sister, that you loved so much, that you cherished deeply, that you thought you’d be able to for the rest of your life, that you were now told was gone, taken from you, in spite of you… because of you.

“No…Oare, no…”

“She’s with Eywa now… I’m so sorry.”

You said, "Let's make ourselves our very own brigade, this love our shield, our blade" Oh, but darling do you see the cuts from which I bleed? It's me you've slain

"Have you seen her? Have you seen syä?"

"What do you mean, Lo'ak?"

"She's gone, bro. She's not in grandmother's tent anymore."

Neteyam felt the blood drain from his face and settle at the soles of his feet, trickling through and into the ground, until he was so empty he felt faint, he felt like he would never be the same again. So many emotions tried him, from ecstatic relief that he couldn’t even explain to himself, at the fact that you were awake, and well enough to walk, to paralysing fear that overwhelmed him, at the fact you were out in your state, that you were gone Eywa knows where, at the fact he’s now going to have to face you and talk to you.

Too many things have changed in such a short amount of time, so many things he couldn’t make sense of or understand, too many revelations and the possibility of more, of the truth, that Neteyam dreaded. A lose-lose situation, his dad would call it - either he confronted you and you told him his father misunderstood, that it wasn’t true, that you too loved him the way he loved you, which meant the last seven years of both your lives, everything you have put each other through would have been for nothing, or his father was right, and having a confirmation of your lack of feelings, which is what he thought fuelled your actions all these years, which was a truth he avoided knowing for a fact for so long, and that might be too hard to bear after all.

“We have to find her, grandma said she shouldn’t be walking around.”

“I know where she is.”

He’s always known where you were when you wanted to be alone. He’s always known because it’s a place that used to be his, his secret spot, his uncharted paradise. A place that he showed to you when you were both children, and that became a safe heaven for the both of you in time, that you took from him after your unfortunate fallout. Just one more thing you ended up taking from him in time. He couldn’t have returned to this place anyway, not with all the memories of you that plagued it, that might as well have been enclosed in a room stuck in a past that he never wanted to revisit.

It took him no time at all to find you, his mind disassociating from the walk, until it was like he blinked and he was there, in the clearing that he dreaded coming to, where the last time he came, he took it too far, the memory of the words that you spat at each other, the way his anger physically manifested itself for the first time in his life, the way he lost control of his emotions and his temper, it was all so ugly and unsightly, it hurt him even thinking about it.

Your back was turned to him as you lay on the edge of the lake, one leg dangling mindlessly in the water, and Neteyam’s heart dropped to his stomach at the sight of you - your hunched shoulders, so far removed from the awe-inspiring, empowered stance you normally displayed to people. Your tail was thrashing furiously from side to side, ears pushed flat against your head that rested on your bent knee, braided hair tousled and unkept as it fell over your face, shielding you from view. Neteyam didn’t even know whether he should speak - if there was still a voice in his throat that could push sounds out, and as he tried, he heard nothing, the only sound in his ears one of muffled, panted breaths and thunderous, erratic heartbeats, that somehow drowned everything else out.

"Leave."

Neteyam ignored your words, all of his senses focused on your voice, on the sniffles that accompanied it, and what they represented. Neteyam has seen you cry only a couple times in all the time he's known you, and not once since your fallout. He was sure you would have rather swallowed a poisoned knife's blade than show weakness in front of him. He gulped audibly when he realised that if you did, that means you knew... if you did, there was no escaping the wrath that was currently embedded in your soul, that he wasn't sure would ever leave you again.

“Why are you here? You should be resting.”

He heard you scoff, bitterness laced through your voice that normally was sweet as a yovo fruit on a summer day, that now felt spoilt, like it had been left rotting on the ground, with no one the wiser.

“Since when do you care about my wellbeing, huh? Last thing I knew I could be dead in a ditch and you’d probably throw a party and dance over my grave. Leave me be, I don't want to deal with you right now.”

"Txepvi... Just co-"

"Don't you dare call me that. You have long forsaken the right to call me that. Just fucking leave, Neteyam."

He felt anger pricking at him like a dagger he was all too familiar with, that was dull and middling, but whose sting still hurt if pushed into his skin at the correct angle, in the right spot, where he was weak.

"I'm not leaving until you get back to the tent. Tsa'hik's orders." That was a lie, but one he felt at liberty to make, since it was quite certain his grandmother would want you back resting, and not galavanting in the woods, with a wound that almost killed you, that made you easy prey for the apex predators lurking in the thick foliage.

I didn't obliterate these walls for you to come and raid my home And here you are right next to me Ironically, I've never felt more alone

“Why did you stay with me?”

Whatever anger he had immediately dissipated like droplets water of a hot day, replaced by the same fear that was plaguing him early, that not even the adrenaline coursing through his veins could overpower. What was he supposed to say? It's not like he had an answer to give you - he couldn't even conceptualise it for himself, much less put it into words that would make sense, that would ever satisfy your morbid curiosity.

“Answer me, Neteyam.”

“I don’t know.”

You rose from your spot on the edge of the lake, and when you turned to face him and your eyes locked, his breath lodged in his throat. You looked anguished, sadder than he's ever seen you, puffy eyes so red, it scared him, cheeks purple and stained, and swollen, wet lips opened to accommodate the heaved breaths and quiet sobs that you tried your hardest to push down, so that he wouldn't see.

It was too late, now. He could see. He could see it all, and it scared him, what you were doing to him, these feelings that were rushing down with enough force to make him buckle under their weight, just like a waterfall that crashed into the river below, warping it with its power.

“No, we’re not doing this shit anymore. My ikran is dead. People are dead, Neteyam. All because of us, because this stupid war, that you caused. That you started. I’m done with the games, and the mystery, and your stupid mouth staying shut. You don’t know? Figure it out. Now.”

I fell for you faster than I fell apart And I guess I'm the one to blame for letting myself fall too hard

"I don't fucking know, OK? I just needed to - fuck. I needed to make sure you'll live."

"Why?! Why the fuck would you care if I live or die? Why? You haven't cared for more than half our lives, and now, when you would have been more useful on the battlefield, when you could have prevented this mess that you caused to begin with, now you want to play the fucking hero?"

“That I started? Are you hearing yourself right now? I wasn’t the one that pushed, and pushed, and pushed until whatever thread it was that still bound us together turned from wool to steel and snapped, yawne. You made it your life purpose to ruin mine, at every turn, in every way imaginable, for years. I did nothing to you, damn it. I just stopped talking to you. I didn’t hurt you, or purposefully tried to make you ache or suffer, I tried to keep my mouth shut and go about my life, without infringing on yours. I didn’t do anything to hurt you, for fuck’s sa-“

“You keeping your mouth shut and going about your life as if your life wasn’t impermeably connected to mine was what fucking hurt me, Neteyam! You saying nothing, doing nothing, acting like I didn’t exist, like I was just a toy you outgrew, that was worse than anything I could have ever fucking done to you, don’t you understand that? Do you understand that you abandoned me? Me, Neteyam, the person who was always there for you, the person who always had your back. Your best friend, your confidant, your training buddy, your sister. I was everything to you, and you just acted like that meant nothing at all."

"It meant everything! And my father fucking ruined it, and you ruined it. You ruined it, and I'll never, ever forgive you." the intensity behind his eyes, glistening with unshed tears that reflected the rays of the sun hitting his golden irises, the ones that put stars to shame and brought you to your knees, scared you. You came here to cry, and let it out. You came here to mourn. You didn't expect this. Didn't want this. But, for the first time in years, Neteyam was talking to you. Neteyam was telling you truths buried deep within his soul, deep behind walls you've tried to climb and pierce through longer than you wanted to admit to, and given the little crack of light you saw shine through, you knew you couldn't let this opportunity pass you by.

"What do you mean?"

He looked tired, you realised faintly. It was true... he did stay with you. His face was sunken and caved in, dark purple bags under his eyes, and you traced the tears that brightened his tanhì momentarily, as they caressed his skin, before falling down his neck.

"Tell me it's not true, what you said to him all those years ago. Tell me he didn't hear you right. That he misunderstood."

"Who?"

"My dad. I heard him... telling my grandmother that you'd never want to mate with me. Or be Tsa'hik. He said you said that. Tell me he was wrong. Tell me I was wrong for believing him. Tell me I was an idiot for not coming to you sooner, for shutting you out of my life. For letting this break me. Please."

Shock stilled you in your spot, replacing blood with current that electrified every ounce of your being. What? After all this time, so much time that kids were born and grew up, time in which you watched Tuk go from barely a babe to a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, beautiful girl, time in which you gained and lost your ikran, in which you gained a family and lost the future you thought you were always made for, next to the person you thought you'd always have your back... so much time has passed, and to hear it, the reason, was so unbelievable it didn't feel like it was real. You thought about the conversation that he was referring to, that you had with Jake in what feels like a completely life to the one you were currently living. He did ask you, and you did say...

"He wasn't wrong."

I ripped my heart out and put it in your hands in hopes that we'd put up a fight How paradoxical, since now all I can think about is when will we stop trying

You watched as the intensity on his face was decimated in an instant, his eyes blank and distant as all life seemed to drain from them as you spoke words that you spat without truly even thinking about it. Oare's death, still so fresh in your mind, hurt so much, made every fibre of your being scream in agony, and this new revelation, of the reason of her death being attributed to something you said as a little kid in passing, that he overheard and never bothered to fact-check, made what little sanity you had left to evaporate and what remained was a bitter precipitate of fury and pain, that you wanted him to feel, that you needed to inflict.

"This is why Oare's dead? This is why so many people are dead, because of one comment I made to your father seven years ago in passing? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Your teeth were bared as you spoke, and the emptiness behind his eyes was replaced with furious anger as he listened, as he realised you had no intention of putting his mind or heart at ease, as you realised he didn't deserve it. Not after everything that's happened, not after the way your soul crashed and imploded inside your body at the guilt that ate you alive, that churned and ground your bones into fine dust, guilt that will never, ever leave you.

“I was just a fucking child, don’t you understand that? Do you understand how insane it is to punish me for something that happened when I was just twelve years old?!"

“Well, you know what? I was also just twelve years old! And I loved you, Vi.” The break in his voice hurt you, like a shard of glass plunged in the soft of your skin, and you looked down to try to see if blood was coming out of the wound that wasn't there. There was nothing. Just emptiness, like the vast chasm that separated you, that always will, no matter the fact he was so close to you, you could feel his breath over your face, your scent in your nostrils, his glistening eyes big as planets, eyes you could get lost in easily, you could fall into as easily as falling asleep.

Seeing the unshed tears once more made tears gather in your own. The nickname, that you haven’t heard in all these years, that felt like a relic from a life long forgotten, long forsaken, knocked the air out of you, just as much as his vulnerability, that you weren’t used to seeing anymore did.

“I fucking loved you. You were everything to me. And you broke me.”

“I had to watch you prove me right every day of my life. Watched as you fought every day to push me away from my own family, and my own dad, who obviously always found you better than me. Watched as you moved on, with no issue, and dated Na’vi after Na’vi, letting them touch you and kiss you, knowing I could see it, in practice, where I always was, I- “

“You fucking did the same thing! You pushed me away, you never talked to me. You abandoned me, without as much as a goodbye. Without any explanation. You fucked girls anywhere I could see, behind my tent, so I could hear you. You chose them all so they bore no resemblance to me, so I could know how much you hated me, every time I saw their faces. You ruined my relationship with the one person who loved me, who was good for me. You fu-"

All you do is blindside me, it's hard to be brave But when the night cuts into the day, it's your love I crave I must've thanked my lucky stars too much They left me sitting in too much dust

Your sentence was cut short by a pair of lips crashing into yours, soft and desperate, clinging on to you like his fingers were wrapped tightly around your throat, like if letting go was unimaginable, like it was too painful to envision. In your dreams, Neteyam's lips were bruising and calloused and cold, and no matter how fiercely you wanted to protest, no matter how much you hated yourself for it, they were the only lips you ever dreamt about. And yet right now, they were nothing like you imagined, nothing like you feared, and despite the hurt, and the pain and the anguish and the anger, despite it all, you couldn't help reciprocating, couldn't help the moan the left you as his other hand found your hips, holding you impossibly closer, while your own hands found the back of his neck and his hair, that you tugged on until he growled. When he broke the kiss and looked at you, hunger and ache clear in his bright eyes, that looked more black than yellow as his hand found your jaw, that he lifted to tilt your head back, pushing his thumb past your lips so you'd keep quiet, you let out a small whimper, and watched as his pupils dilated even more, almost overtaking his beautiful, molten irises.

"Just...Stop talking."

His lips found the place on your jaw where his fingers just were, and the feeling of him on you burned like molten lava, and you push your head back, giving him access to all of you. Your mind felt numb - a battle within itself as it was trying to come to terms with all the crushing emotions that were fighting for dominion over your thoughts and your soul, each one more devastating than the last - from the guilt that you knew would plague you for the rest of your life, that you didn’t think you’d ever be able to overcome, to the grief of losing your spirit sister, to confusion over what you were doing, over wondering if this was a mistake, to the sadness at Neteyam’s confession and the knowledge he loved you, and you pushed him away without meaning to, to earth-shattering anger at the realisation that this whole ordeal started over nothing and could have been solved if he only ever talked to you and finally, to the hatred that still blossomed, even after all this time, and finally, the desire, pure, unadulterated desire to have him, to be owned, to know what it feels like to be wholly his. You didn’t know which one would win, but you could only hope there’ll still be something left of you when the battle found its victor in the midst of all the chaos.

He was rough as he pushed you until you tipped backwards, but his caress was gentle as he caught you and made sure you weren't hurt as your body hit the damp, soft grass. When he spread your legs and kneeled in between them, you knew you whatever ounce of self-restraint you had was swiftly thrown out the window, and you knew the relief you'd get to feel once he was done with you would be worth the regret in the morning - at least, it felt so right now. His fingers dug into your thighs as they massaged upwards, from your shins to your hips, and when both his thumbs caressed the sensitive spot at the edge of your loincloth, your breath hitched in your throat, silently begging him for more, hoping he wouldn't make you say words out loud you could never take back.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he spoke, his hands stilling on the knot of your tewng.

"Tell me you want this. I need to know you want this, or I stop."

You hissed at him, conflicted beyond words and reason, because no, of course you didn't. But yes, you did. Of course you did.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you, Neteyam."

At your words, his hands dropped from your hips and in an instant, he was on top of you, his gaze stopping the breath in your lungs as he looked at you, his hand gripping your throat once more, the aggressive gesture at odds with the softness in his eyes and the way he was caressing your jaw in barely-there touches with his thumb.

"I hate you more. So much more. I still need an answer, yawne."

You stared daggers at him, and refused to talk, but as you wrapped your fingers around his cummerbund and pulled him in, until his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues, throbbing deep in you at the way he moaned in your mouth, you knew words were meaningless, and words couldn't convey the feelings that tormented you, anyway. You reached for his tewng and masterfully unwrapped it, feeling his cock spring free and slap against your abdomen, and the weight of it made you gasp, a smirk erupting from his face in response.

You needed him. You needed him to numb the pain the he created, that you created, you needed the emptiness that came from being filled to the brim, the fleeting peace that would come with the high that you knew he could provide, because it hurt. It all hurt, and you couldn't stand it. You reached your hand and wrapped your fingers around his length, your slick leaving a wet patch in the fabric, that was increasing in size by the second, just at the thought of how he'd feel stretching you out. He let out a small groan at the way you were caressing him, running your thumb over the slit, smearing the precum that was leaking, that you felt a sudden urge to taste.

"F-fuck!"

"Take off my tewng, Neteyam."

"For once in your life, you will not get to dictate how this goes."

Despite his words, he listened, and you winced at the weight of his body being lifted off you, instantly missing the contact and comfort it provided. But he wasn't gone long, as he removed your clothes, and you tried not too think of how good his gaze felt on you, how empowering the desire in his eyes as he took you in, how he had to lick his lips and swallow audibly, as if he was a starved man in a desert, and you were his fata morgana.

He took no time in attaching himself to you again, the thick head of his cock prodding at your entrance, and the velvety feel of him against your folds involuntarily makes you shut your eyes closed and your head push back, need heightening at the way he starts licking and sucking at your breast, leaving purple marks in the wake of his lips and tongue, that you want on every inch of you, that you wanted to cum on as he made your knees buckle and your vision spot.

His face finds a home in the crook of your neck as he slides inside you, taking his time to feel you, every inch of your walls, as they stretched to accommodate for his size, and it feels so good, too good, his cock in you, his tail around your thigh, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin, or gripping at your waist, his breath on your neck, his teeth sinking in you so he could stop himself from telling you all the confessions bubbling in his chest, all the ways it's all making sense to him now, that he's never hated you, he's just hated not having you, not being able to call you his. Still, as he bottoms out in you, he can't help some of them from spilling out, the dam of his heart slowly coming apart at the seams.

"It had to be someone who had no resemblance to you. It had to, Vi. Don't you understand? Because any time I looked at anyone, I saw you in them. Their eyes, or lips, their tanhì or stripes, even the smallest similarity killed me, reminded me how much I hate you, how much I want to, how much I don't. I've wanted to hate you so much, I tried so hard, but you were in every dream, in every fantasy, you haunted me my whole life."

You did understand. You understood too well. That's why you chose O'i'en. Because he was nothing like the Neteyam you came to know in the years you became an adult. Because his touch was warm and made you feel nothing. Because his eyes bore no resemblance to his, the glimmer of amber nothing like the green flickers that felt like were Eywa's inspiration for the forest that surrounded you; O'i'en's tanhì were scattered like light through the leaves and branches of the trees, unlike Neteyam's, which were like the star dust that created all life in the Universe, that shone brighter than any light post, that shone so brightly, they led you home every night when you were young.

The tears gathered in your eyes as he started a steady pace of his hips, conflicting feelings tugging at the string of your already broken and torn apart heart, whose heart beats felt dragging and echoing, different to the two sounds you were used to, instead pulsating three syllables throughout your whole body, enveloping you and taking over your mind, forcing you to come to terms with issues you thought you buried so deeply, you'd never have to see again.

I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you. I hate you, I hate you....

I love you.

"Neteyam..."

"I know. You're doing so well for me. So well. Fuck, you feel so, so good."

You moan at his words, the desire bubbling inside of you quickly reaching heights you wouldn't mind falling from, being pushed from, so you could feel the euphoria that came along with falling, without having to worry about the inevitable crash that would follow, at least not right now.

"I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me, yawne. I need to feel you come all over my cock."

For the first time since he's called you that, the term of endearment didn't feel ironic or facetious, and for once in your life, you had no problem obeying his orders - when you came, you came violently, legs shaking and back arched, whimpers and moans pushing past your lips unrestrained, and the sounds made his cock twitch inside of you, his own orgasm so close he could taste it. He lets you ride your high fully before pulling out of you, thick ropes of iridescent cum painting your abdomen and chest, that, in your fucked out mind, you almost wish painted your still-throbbing walls instead.

You know all my dreams, you were one, so it seemed And I love you but with you, it's heartache I breathe You gave it your all, just with everything you took from me

It was almost... domestic, the way he was asleep peacefully next to you, his breath so steady and deep, and so relaxed, it almost sounded like purring, his strong, muscular arms holding you close as you lay on your back, looking at the stars, bright, blurry orbs through the distorted lens of your tears, that couldn't stop falling, no matter how much you willed them away. The crash did come eventually, in the few hours since, and it felt like it broke all your bones in the process.

"You and me, we're meant to rise and fall together."

Those words, that became the overarching theme of your relationship, words that you never realised when you spoke them as a child that you would both take so literally, rang in your ears like a broken record your mind could no longer turn off. You were right, all those years ago. Even back then, you knew. You and Neteyam did rise together. From children to adults, from pupils to teachers, from toy soldiers to hardened warriors, rose you did, until you were so high up, the air was thin and suffocating. But nothing compared to your penchant for falling. You fell hard, from grace, from cloud nine, for the other's other schemes and plots, for your own compulsions, obsessions and greedy desires, and mostly, for each other. Your relationship was fire and ice, it was everything and nothing all at once, a war you fought and a war you lost, a war in which innocents had to die and lives were lost, a war you were finally tired of.

You and Neteyam rose and fell together, over and over again, your whole lives. A twisted carousel that wouldn't stop until one of you jumped off it, and with Oare's death, and the shame that followed it, you finally realised it had to be you.

In the early hours of the morning, after a quick wash in the cold lake, you found your way back to the village and straight to the Tsa'hik's tent. You were happy to see her, and nervous to talk, but you knew the quicker you got it out, the quicker it would be over. So with a deep breath, you spoke your piece, and hoped she'd listen.

“Ma Tsa’hik. I’m here to ask you to let me out of this arrangement. Please. I can’t do this, not with Neteyam. I’m done.”

Oh, my love Is this the end for us? Maybe we've had enough

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak@sweetbread-m@eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog@hannabanana-09 @xylianasblog @misscaller06 @yeosxxx @myh3artttt @teyamsbitch@musicownsme @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @zoetrope1997 @itsmy-alteregohere @ntymavtr @curlszx88 @maki-z @riatesullironalite @baahsaama @luna-salem @teyamtesuli @koing-slvt @call-me-doll-face @puresirius-things @saturniac @call-me-doll-face @dreaming-of-the-reality @whorefortim

(sorry if i missed anyone this list is getting so longgg)

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ao3commentoftheday · 7 months

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i'm curious about the reason ao3 users subscribe to works, previously i assumed that it was used just for WIPs but since writing for a new fandom and reading your blog i've realized its far more common to sub to complete works than i thought. though i appreciate the attention on my works, i was initially frustrated seeing subscription stats on works that were complete, esp bc i have seen readers in this specific fandom insist that writers continue works that they stated were completed. i had considered creating a poll bc i would be interested in the statistics of why readers subscribe to works on ao3, is this a fandom specific behavior or remnants of fandom elders continuing old habits? you can totally ignore this if it's redundant, im mostly just rambling and feel like i dont understand ao3 bc i've only been posting for a few years that i haven't experienced much fandom interaction until recently.

AO3 users are no different from users of any other website. We all make use of features in ways that work for us - even if those ways are different from (or counter to) their intended use.

Some users subscribe to completed works and/or oneshots because they hope authors might come back some day and add on. I once left a oneshot for something like 2 years and then came back and turned it into a 10 chapter fic because I had an idea for something longer and the oneshot was the setup I needed. It saved me writing the start.

Some authors will also add a new chapter onto a completed work to let readers know they've posted a new work in the series. Again, the subscription lets readers know a new work is there for them to go and read.

Other reasons they might do this include:

wanting to show the writer more love. They've commented, kudos'd and bookmarked already, so subscription is all they have left to say "I LOVED THIS!"

similar to this, not realizing what the subscription is so they press it because they're pressing all of the buttons to say ❤️

thinking that the subscribe button on and individual fic will act the same as the subscribe button on an author's profile page. i.e., they think if they hit the subscribe button on the work, that'll set up a subscription to the author instead of the story

finding it easier to sort through subscriptions to find their favourite works because their bookmarks are too numerous or disorganized

This is an individual thing and not a fandom thing. There might be a generational difference, but that's mostly just because the nature of online subscriptions and creator subscriptions has changed over time and the way modern social media handles it is different from how the Archive handles subscriptions. Mostly it just comes down to personal preference and quirks of habit.

Readers, feel free to share if you have another reason for subscribing to completed works. Did I miss any?

#asks and answers

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booksandpaperss · 11 months

Text

How Stranger Things (poorly) handles racism as a topic compared other heavy topics it successfully tackles

before we get started, I would to direct you all to some other accounts who have already discussed this that you should check out either before or after reading this post: @wewebaggit @googoogagaeyes @elekinetic and anyone else please feel free to tag yourself or another account that’s discussed this and I’ll happily boost it

Content Warning for in show examples of racism and discussions of racism, as well as mentions of homophobia and the AIDES epidemic

. While we're discussing historical accuracy in stranger things and homophobia + ignorance being present even in well meaning characters, I want to point out that if the writers of the show weren't so squeamish about addressing racism in any in depth way, than this type of historical accuracy would be for racism too.

what I mean by this: in this sense, the show is not consistent. It's clear that the writers have done their research on 80s homophobia and how openly prevalent it was, if the AIDES allegory in season 2 and the way homophobia was very clearly present in seasons 1 and 2 (it still is in seasons 3 and 4 but the first 2 seasons showed it in the scope of the entire town), but racism was just as overtly prevalent, and yet the writers have neglected to address it in the same thoughtful and coded way. if the show was just as consistent about racism as it is about homophobia, than the white characters would be at the very least shown as ignorant just like the straight characters are.

and I'm not going to say that it's completely ignored, because that's not true:

-in season 2; mike makes an ignorant comment that implies Lucas should have been Winston because he's black, and Lucas calls him on it. There's also the very racist undertones (that are practically overtones) of Billy's treatment of Lucas. -There is almost nothing in season 3 except for a jokey joke when Nancy says the whole party is her family and the receptionist, who is a black woman, gives Lucas a skeptical look.

-Season 4 is a little better, with the implications (key word: implications, I'll come back to that in a moment) of Lucas's season 4 arc being that he was trying to fit in because he didn't want to be racially targeted and bullied for being a nerd at the same time anymore, that he felt like even more of an outsider compared to the rest of his otherwise all white friend group who, as far as he knows, are all cishet and giving him shit for wanting to lessen how much he's perceived as an outsider because he's automatically seen as even more of a "freak", and his friends just weren't getting it because they were white and ignorant. So the writers aren't blind to race and racism.

However. None of the examples that I've just listed are addressed later in any in depth way; not like the homophobia is. The only one that's even remotely delved into instead of simply being glossed over is Lucas's s4 arc, and even that is still very flitted around and left up to interpretation of the audience.

The writers seem to have a very "hit and run" sort of policy with addressing racism. They clearly know they should, and they at least seem to know that having a black character in an 80s setting with a cast of mostly white characters inherently creates a lot of racial subtext-

-for example, the very loud subtext of Jason (a white boy much older than Lucas) seeing Max (a white girl) in a trance alone with Lucas (a black boy) and immediately assuming the worst + Jason's white friends tackling an 11 year old black girl to the ground: subtext that I'm still not sure if the writers and directors were even aware of bc they never addressed it and their track record isn't great-

-but they hardly do anything about it.

I'm not surprised, considering this show is headed by two white men, but what really gets me is that they all truly could have tried harder. Like I said earlier, it's clear they've done research and put thought into addressing homophobia (it still could've been handled better but that's an entirely different conversation), and it's evident from Max's s4 arc that they also did research on Depression, PTSD, and the impacts on someone of their abusive family member dying. So the lack of care and thought put into addressing racism in the same way is clearly more than ignorance (which would still be bad, when you're writing a show this big in 2023 with topics like this you're actually, shocker, responsible for making sure they're addressed properly, ignorance is a choice at that point), its just fucking lazy. they don't care. And this not caring is inherently harmful on a show this big and frankly, I'm tired of so many viewers and people in this fandom straight up ignoring this fact, just like the show runners.

And I haven't even covered the complete lack of effort put into Patrick's backstory, or the fact that Erica is very much the sassy, mature for her age black girl stereotype (she deserves so much better). Oh, And we can’t forget the copaganda.

I'm glad that season 4 started to explore the dynamic between Lucas and Erica and expand on both their characters, and from the looks of things that will continue in season 5, so the writers have a chance to do their research, actually put effort more effort into the sinclair sibling’s characters, and improve, and I'm hoping they will but as of right now I don't trust them to, and won't unless they prove me wrong.

TDLR; the main issue is that Stranger Things is clearly a show that addresses topics like depression, abuse, homophobia, and racism, but the racism part is neglected compared to the others, just like how Lucas and Erica's characters are handled poorly compared to the white characters,. it's lazy, horribly insensitive, and racist in and of itself. There's a clear bias, and even if it improves in season 5 we still should be talking about it, and more white people (yes white queer people included, we are not exempt from this discussion, if anything we should care just as much about it as when we’re talking about homophobia) in this fandom need to start listening when black and brown people do talk about it instead of just waltzing through and ignoring it for your own peace of mind.

also I should clarify that I myself am white, I made sure I did research before making this post in order to talk about this accurately and consciously, but if I made any mistakes or said something insensitive or used an incorrect term or anything else, feel free to correct me and I will readily fix it

as a final note: please check my rebligs of this for links to more posts that talk abt this issue

#also I know this is a lot of text I’m sorry I tried my best to format it but it’ll be way easier to read on desktop than on ur phone #stranger things #stranger things analysis #stranger things fandom #tw racsim #elli talks stranger things

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

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Why I Don’t Experience Byler Doubt

It’s simple. One of the most essential techniques in storytelling: Show, don’t tell.

Show, don't tell is a technique that allows the audience to experience the story through actions, words, subtext, thoughts, senses, and feelings rather than exclusively through the creators' exposition, summarization, and description.

Even more importantly (assuming we want to enjoy ourselves bc this is supposed to be high quality entertainment), it adds drama. Rather than telling viewers what's happening, a filmmaker will use this technique to show drama unfold. 'Telling' is factual and avoids detail; while 'showing,' is detailed and places the human subject at the centre of the drama.

This technique is literally playing out in the narrative when it comes to Mike’s inability to tell El he loves her (or even simply write love Mike in his letters), which he never would have had to tell her (spell out) in the first place, if he had just shown her that he loved her.

It’s no fun having to spoon feed your audience. Instead, it's much more enjoyable for the storyteller to present the truth in the details, even sometimes contradicting very basic assumptions that are being outright told. Hence why, for example, when the Duffers were asked about the Vecna reveal, Ross used the opportunity to go on a mini tangent: 'the best twists are ones that you go, “Oh, I should have seen that coming.” As opposed to the twists that go, “Oh, well that just came out of nowhere.” So, “Oh, I missed these clues along the way.” But you get nervous when you’re writing it because you go, “Well, to me it seems obvious--'.

In fact, Show, don't tell is what largely allows surprise revelations to hide in plain sight. Because obviously, if a writer just tells their audience everything that's happening while it's happening, we would always see what's coming next.

And so the problem I have with downplaying or even completely refusing to acknowledge the importance of Show, don't tell, in the case of Stranger Things especially, is that, in order to comfortably subscribe to what is being told, I have to ignore what is being shown.

We see this play out all the time on Reddit in particular, which if I'm being honest is the only platform at this point that treats mere speculation about Will and Mike's relationship as if it is the end of the world. On the rare occasion the mods don't remove a byler related post, the post is either already negative towards byler or the comments are filled with fury over the poster simply thinking critically by speculating about byler. Even if you manage to get a fan over there in the comments to consider certain evidence pointing towards byler as incriminating, they'll still manage to end it by downplaying the Duffers and their abilities, because 'They're not that smart!'...

They'll ask for evidence, be presented with it, only to insist that it's all reaching because details mean nothing and everything about the show is actually just surface level, ie. it's not that deep.

Without even realizing it, they're low-key admitting that going the byler route would be smart, and yet here they are tirelessly defending a show that, according to them, has shit writers and no deeper purpose. All this does is prove that they are hoping this is the case. Because even despite being presented with strong evidence that the show might very well be epic, they would rather reject it altogether.

They would rather have one of their favorite shows suck and defend it religiously, then consider the possibility that it's good and gay...

Don't get me wrong, there are definitely fans on reddit that don't hate byler. I imagine out of the million in that sub, there's a silent majority that would be open to it. Keep in mind, most fans still active at this point in hiatus are hardcore fans, and so they're obviously opinionated, that goes for everyone on most platforms rn. And yet, I know there are very likely casual fans who are popping in there every now and then, the same people in the majority when after s4 dropped, saw that monologue and said What the actual fuck was that?

There’s a reason no other couple on the show has needed to hear the words I love you to believe it. Well, besides Steve and Nancy…

Because SHOW, DON'T TELL. That's why!

So, what do I mean when I say that Show, don't tell is why I no longer have byler doubt?

It's actually pretty ironic, but basically the moment Mike told El he loved her, that's the moment they showed us that he didn't.

I mean, for starters, how does one go about filming a romantic love confession? Because if we're being entirely serious right now, they made just about every artistic and creative choice possible to go against what a romantic love confession should look like to feel satisfying.

I mean, you'd probably want the atmosphere to be intimate, right? Make the audience feel like these two are the only two people in the room (world) for this moment?

Well, that's not the case for Mike and El, nor is it the case for literally any of their scenes in s4 (arguably a lot of their scenes in the series; Will the wise drawing in El's room, I'm looking at you). Almost all of the scenes with them together in s4 had Will in the background, often times in the literal frame between them. That is NOT how you film scenes for a romantic pairing that you want the audience to root for, from beginning to end.

You guys gotta understand, rewatch value is one of the most important aspects to this story for the Duffers. When talking about the prospects of s5, they mentioned that they rewatched all the Lord of the Rings, saying how important it was, despite what some fans might say about the ending being too long, or this or that, bc to them, it was necessary to watch it all, and to rewatch it and rewatch it, in order to appreciate the entire story as a whole, aka the way it was intended.

If you're a serious about Mike and El as a romantic pairing, but because of the way the show has set up their relationship over the seasons, you can't sit down and enjoy more than a quarter of each season bc they're either separated, broken up, or on the rare occasion they are together and happy, they're accompanied by a kicked puppy in every shot, maybe all of that's for a reason.

And that applies to the scene in Surfer Boy more than any other scene in the show, a scene that is supposed to be Mike's monologue to El... You mean a scene that directly parallels Mike's monologue to Will in s2?

When planning the end of s4, do we think the Duffers just decided they wanted this intimate moment between Mike and El to have Will in the frame behind Mike (visually piggybacking off of him, in an episode titled The Piggyback...) in almost every shot, including when he said I love you for the first time, for no reason at all? Or is it possible there was a reason for it? Just like there's been a greater reason for everything?

Like bro, I'm sorry, but even if what's being told in that scene is relevant, all of it still reads as either a lie, a partial lie, a lie of omission or a platonic truth hiding behind romantic phrasing: I don't know how to live without you = platonic (trauma bond), whereas I can't live without you/I don't want to live without you = romantic. The later is out of desire/want, the former is out of fear of the unknown.

The entire scene the lighting is blinking rapidly. And so the vibe they're going for here is uncertainty, which is quite odd for a love confession that's supposed to feel certain? Then we have El seeing all red the entire time. She's literally choking, hearing Mike struggle to muster up anything that could help her pull through, only to overhear Will calling Mike the heart, followed by Mike finally saying I love you????

And I guess according to the Duffers, nothing says true love like a love confession ending abruptly by a two day time jump...

Oh and how about, instead of them taking the time at the end of the season for El and Mike to have a private moment, where they could finally address their love for one another, let’s have them barely on speaking terms, and the one time they do talk, let’s have it be offscreen and mentioned in a private moment between Will and Mike, who in contrast to Mike and El, we're going to prioritize having a scene with them alone together at the end of this season...

In the last minutes, let’s have El look at Mike and Will, only to avoid them with visible annoyance. And THEN let’s show Mike visibly defeated by El's annoyance, instead prioritizing reassuring Will, aka his friend with whom he shares an I didn’t say it/ You didn’t have to bond...

I mean? Are we just not going to talk about it? The fact that I didn't say it/You didn't have to could pass off as a literal synonym for Show, don't tell...

It just kills me that even with all of that, the Duffers were like, You know what? Fuck it. Let's show them all the endgame couples lined up next to each other, with Will and Mike in the middle and El standing on her own in front of them. If by now they still refuse to consider it, after everything, this ending probably wont convince them anyways, but it makes for great rewatch value...

Seriously, if you're subscribing fully to the belief that what is being told is the whole truth and nothing but the truth (so help you god), then you're having to ignore all of that. And I can't ignore all of that, I just can't. Which makes it impossible for me to experience doubt anymore.

#byler #stranger things #byler doubt #not really #quite the opposite #but i'll tag in case #show don't tell allows you to acknowledge what is being shown AND told bc the truth of what's being told is hiding in the details #that's not the case for people only wanting to believe what's being told bc they're having to completely ignore the details to believe it #like i know for milkvans... byler scenes do NOT work in their favor #whereas for bylers... pretty much all milkvan scenes do work in our favor #and so genuinely i just can't experience doubt anymore #arguing with antis is fun to me #looking at reddit posts is peak entertainment #ppl praying to the gods that ST sucks bc they would rather have that be the case than it be an intricate story with deeper meaning #bc then that would mean all the queer-coding that's been hiding in the details all along was intentional...#there's nothing I can do for ya'll except sit here and watch you unpack that #reddit is going to be quite the spectacle over the next couple years #once byler happens there's probably going to be instant denial #then mourning #then acceptance #or whatever the 4(?) stages of grief are #then they'll eventually get to a point where they will allow themselves to look at the evidence instead of avoiding it out of fear #and that's when it's finally going to hit them #oh my god #it's me #i'm part of the reason they had to water it down #bc even upon being presented with evidence #they rejected it #and now they gotta give credit to tumblr bylers who discovered most of the evidence they've been shitting on for the last few years #honestly i'm looking forward to it

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inklore · 9 months

Note

I saw you post about how people should like to comment on writers work but I slightly sympathise bc some people are embarrassed and/or think that their comment/reblog would be useless. But more people are coming to this app to read a fic like another wattpad or an ‘easier’ ao3 instead of using their acc to post what they like yk

Srry for the rant <333

no need to apologize for the rant it’s always welcome here if it’s done in kind and yours was <3

i get what your saying about people coming to the app thinking it’s like all the other reading platforms but if we’re being honest i’d say ao3 is easier, better selection, plus when someone views your work your ‘hits’ go up and that can sometimes help more people find your work if they go by that / sort the fics on ao3 like that. wattpad literally has the same system of ‘views’ on your work that help boost it, but also commenting there is really big (as someone who was once on wp comments meant everything which is why i don’t get how ppl don’t understand that comments are everything here as well).

you could also say these other platforms make it seem like tumblr works the same way and it doesn’t, but even when writers try to spread the word on that fact not everyone wants to listen or sees it because people don’t rb (which tumblr was made for that let’s not forget).

but on this great app it doesn’t matter how many people view our work, read it silently, press the little heart, no one will see it unless you rb it. and being shy about commenting and thinking comments won’t matter is backwards thinking to me. how do you think writers feel knowing they have 100 notes and 10 of them are rbs and 0 comments? like we know there’s people out there reading our work and not even giving the pointless heart to it and there’s not much we can do about it, and yeah we are so grateful for all of it, but what we wouldn’t give to even have ONE PERSON comment some emojis on our fic. let us know that someone other than ourselves actually liked it. a ‘like’ can mean anything, it can mean nothing. it does nothing. it’s nice, it’s acknowledging, but that’s all it does. it’s a silent compliment that keeps our minds wondering.

if you weren’t embarrassed to read the fic you shouldn’t be embarrassed to comment on it. i’m not trying to sound harsh but it’s 2023, half the population reads fic. devours it. ppl are famous authors because of it now or get ‘tiktok fame’ over liking it. you commenting ‘omg amazing’ or putting two little emojis in a writers comments is only going to make them feel seen. feel great. feel like they’re not just posting stuff on here for bots. so i don’t super sympathize with people who are embarrassed because i just can’t wrap my head around it. but i’m also saying it’s okay and i’ve never once saw a writer get mad over anything someone has commented on their work (unless it’s been mean or a criticism they didn’t ask for or a ‘part two pls’).

if you like something on here reblog it!!!! comment on it!!!!!

#as someone with anxiety adhd and depression i get the being nervous about it but i’ve literally pasted a quote from the fic and added #thot emojis after it #like that’s all it takes to make a writers day #i literally went down someone’s masterlist and devoured and commented on every fic #thinking wow i’m probably being annoying #but i didn’t care because their writing was so fucking amazing and i NEEDED to tell them #reading is silence is for the books in your bedroom not tumblr #in** i’m too lazy to rewrite the sentence #yell shout #if you like it comment #reblog it #▸ laur answers

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

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-vine boom

I probably sent a lot of these now im so sorry lmfao 😅

You mentioned in one of the asks that some countries are like a prototype/based of our existing countries, like Germany=Mondstadt, Liyue=China, Inzauma=Japan....

So even though the language is more or less identical for you to make heads and tails in a conversation or writing in a book, the reverse side does not.

Creator!Reader who knows a couple of languages (plus points if they're atleast fluent or have a understanding of it despite not being able to speak said language) and being born from a country that doesnt have the same language as the countries Teyvat based off. Basically Spanish, Italian, Filipino, Scandinavian languages that also have their own way of writing.

Imagine feeling homesick and the only thing that keeps you occupied is the notebook and pen you have while the others converse in a meeting or in a hangout. You started writing in your tongue and re-reading it to relive memories.

Zhongli, AlHaitham, Albedo, Jean, maybe the Berry bros too (Diluc & Kaeya) get curious only to have a double-take and immediately thinks that maybe there is a forgotten land in Teyvat that has this language, I mean Morax stayed faithful to Liyue and Barbatos blessed his country with abundance of supplies and freedom. Teyvat gods and archons played favourites, so why wouldn't you as well? (Bonus: Khaenriah flashbacks) (also I know these arent enough characters but how should I know? I only have a handful of them and I ran out of Primos😭

The people from Akademiya though? I mean they went hard on theorizing and picking apart the language of their creator. Have you seen Matpat's descent to insanity the more FNAF continues to push out LoRe? Thats basically them because Teyvat doesn't have a country based on Creator's birth country. They're grasping nothing but air and dead ends and the only lead they have is you, but couldnt ask because you look so down and they cant bear to see Creator sad....

(NEW BANNER TOMORROW AND I DONT HAVE ENOGH PRIMOGEMS HALP---)

Rip Vine boom no primos 🙏 hope u got some more by this time bc i was so late to reply lol - DUDE IM SO READY FOR THE GORG KAVEH <333

BERRY BROS!! Thats it, thats the only way im gonna refer to them now.

Not super long to add onto ur bc UR SO SMART AND SUCH A GOOD WRITER VINEBOOM U SHOULD ALSO WRITE STUFF SO I CAN GO OBSESS OVER UR WRITING WITH A MILLION FERAL COMMENTS-!!!

(Cute owl house gif is like, metaphorially u and zhongli in this lol)

EDIT 8/23/23: So this may be inaccurate/not that good to my Hispanic Readers out there! Sorry about that, I'l make sure to do better in the future.

EDIT 1/1/24: Unfortunately there are even more issues here, and I'm really sorry about that. I expanded on it more in my Eldritch fanfic post in Part 2, but it was exoticism of me to use the word "Huangdi". I have since replaced it with "Emperor", and don't intend to just erase the mistake like it never happened. But I did change it in the headcanons for better readability. Again, I'm genuninely sorry about this, and will absolutely be watching out/doing better in the future. I hope you understand.

THIS SOUNDS SO SAD, LIKE THIS COULD DEF BE ANGST, ESP SINCE U HAVE NO FAMILIAR-ISH CULTURE TO TURN TO-

tbh im american and i def dont think theres a u.s. country- oh god at least I hope not, damn but im also familiar with mexican culture so i wouldnt miss the united states, but id miss mexican culture…

BUT!!

You have a lot of amazing people who care about you in Teyvat, so they won’t let you stew in ur homesickness for long

like random said, i could see it being small stuff

ok so imma just-

LATINO! READER TIME BABBYYYYY

(i do this bc its just the culture/language im more familiar with, but dont let that discourage anyone from requesting other cultures! I will def do my research, or ur welcome to tell me all about it so i can write it better! <3)

THAT BEING SAID IM MOSTLY WHITE PLS LMK IF SHIT IS WRONG/SPANISH IS WRONG BC IM STILL A BEGINNER MY BELOVED LATINES!

<3 YOU GUYS

♡

you’ve been in the game-turned-life world of Genshin Impact for nearly 6 months now, turns out time isnt wonky as hell like it is if you were playing the game, half bc u bribed Albedo with answers to his many questions about you if he figured out the time difference, and half bc of ur internal clock

people would notice the cuss words first lmao

like Xiao hearing u stubbing ur toe on the million and one steps up to Wangshu Inn, hijueputa!

or Keqing pointing out the words you coo at the dogs hanging out by the bridge outside the harbor,

un perrito tan buenoooo!! :’)

while most would just, " hmm, maybe a dialect of one of the other countries we havent heard…"

but Zhongli? he’s been ready for centuries in case the prophecy came true within his lifetime, afterall, many things changed while he’s been alive, not crazy to him that you might descend randomly

While everyone else was unprepared, bc u were like… the oldest deity, more legend than history, so ppl just thought Morax was a little overly faithful …so when it actually happened,, Morax was just smirking as he watched ur golden shooting star streak the night sky… while absolute pandemonium consumed the mortals and adepti in liyue lmao

(like that scene of Regina George in Mean Girls watching the student body break out into an all out brawl just smirking 😭 pls god look it up if u dont know what i mean- )

So Morax- Zhongli, has been ready for you, just in case, to pay attention to what kind of person you’d be, learn your favorite clothes/colors/offerings, see what things you’d like to talk about with him (hopefully for hours) etc.

He was observant, and with his memory, he practically gave himself headaches sometimes with how aware he was,

on one of those days he was overwhelmed by the mortal crowds, the smells, the market yelling, and all the change from what he thought he knew-

Zhongli noticed you in your own melancholy, and curious, he began to stroll just behind

You sit at Wanmin restaurant, still somber, and ask Xiangling to

“please try out these recipes? they’re from my world, and id really love to have something like them again..”

a true experimental chef as always, Xiangling quickly takes up your offer, and u follow her into the kitchens in the back (the restaurant is much more real than in game, they have gorgeous inside seating, all shades of red coloring the walls and lots of pretty latticework-)

Zhongli takes a seat finally, he has a usual table at this point he comes in so much coughtorunintoyoucough the staff know it's his and give him tea pretty quickly

the food, and the looks, makes it your favorite restaurant in Liyue, the Liuli Pavilion a little too fancy for casual dining, afterall, Zhongli would know

He’s tried to keep track of your favorite places to be in Liyue too, and kept his near full attention on what you say when he asks after your stays in Liyue (he hasn’t felt the need to pay that much attention or felt that much interest in conversation partners in… decades?)

So when you come out of the kitchen, throwing your head back and laughing, "Sí, sí! It all tastes so close Xiangling! Gracias, thank you!"

He wants… to know.

to know what those strange, but delicious looking, foods are all balanced on two big dinner plates

Xiangling carrying whatever you couldn’t just behind, a pitcher of white liquid, it smells, like cinnamon?

He raises a hand, and offers the extra seats at his table, (when did his tea go cold? he only just sat down, he couldn’t have spent that long thinking about you…)

You notice and look over, a giddy grin lighting up your face (…hmm, perhaps he needs to transform into his Exuvia form and let off some steam, his chest has warmed too much right now for him to just be sitting here…)

You plop into the seat beside him, but not before carefully placing the plates in front of both you and Zhongli

You scootch around until you’re turned towards him, as always, Zhongli looks… actually kind of, happy?

a small soft smile pulls at his lips, his eyes half-lidded as they meet yours, his usual red eyeliner framing his monolids perfectly, he looks like he’s been,, well, sculpted from stone, an artwork come to life

“…My Emperor? Could I trouble you to tell me about the dishes before us?”

the geo god’s pleasantly smooth and deep voice felt so soft asking you that, like he didn’t want to push you one direction or the other

“Oh! Right! Sorry, these are from my home country, back in my world, or at least, as close as Xiangling and I can get to them!”

Your smile brightens your face once more, clearing away any leftover stormclouds from your mood earlier, and as you launch into explaining (Xiangling had to get back to orders, so it’s just you two now)

You list it all, the quintessential: quesadillas, empanadas, tamales, chorizo (you had to combine at least 5 different spices to Mondstadt sausages to get anywhere close to the real thing) the dips obviously, salsa, queso, guacamole, and the easy street tacos, and finally the horchata, but also all the weird fruits Teyvat has with chile, like Sunsettias mixed with Harra from Sumeru or Lavender melons with Wolfhook berries… all surpringly pretty good

(the Sun-Harra combo tastes like mango, a sort of deeper taste of pineapple/kiwi and a sort of light orange taste? all with the nice addition of chile flavors, the Lavender melons and Wolfhooks helped imitate chamoy enough that your heart was satisfied)

…you realize you’ve just been talking about the last meal you had with your family/friends instead of the food after a bit, and Zhongli hasn’t said anything…

you trail off and look back over your shoulder (u were practically about to get your shirt in the imitation guac u were leaning so far over the table to point and talk)

you’re about to sheepishly apologize for taking over the conversation, and ask if he wants to try anything (Zhongli can handle spice so u dont have to worry abt that at least)

but as u finally see his face, u just stop, and dont end up saying anything

He’s just, looking at you.

his smile's not huge, but big enough to make his eyes look happy, and Zhongli’s just… looking at you.

You can’t describe the look he’s giving you, but you suddenly feel… a wave of shyness wash over your heart in your chest, because he’s looking almost like, maybe like, he’s sort of, waiting for you to keep talking, his tan skin warm in the golden rays of the sun beginning to set, you don’t know why you’re noticing any of these things, and he gently, slowly, makes a move to lean into your space a little

almost above your armrest, head inches from your shoulder, he finally moves to stop looking at you-

He looks like a painting as he looks down, his eyelashes almost sitting on his high cheekbones,

you have to move your head to looking at the table too as he moved so close,

you feel your shoulders reflexitively hitch upwards as you brushed the hair on the side of his head as you turned away

He looks around, and then moves his head, not his body, he’s still leaning toward you, to look you right in the eyes again

“Why did you stop? I haven’t said much, I apologize, but it’s only because I wanted to hear you without anything interrupting you.”

You cough a little strained, “Oh! Oh I get it now yeah, thanks-”

“I want to hear you more,” his black eyes begin to warm with gold, you can vaguely see the shape of his diamond pupil revealing itself, “I want to hear about… everything, if you’ll tell me? The language, the food, the drinks, your family, your dances, your country, I want to hear it all. Won’t you please let me hear your voice some more?”

♡

GOOOD LOOORDDDD, ITS SO LONGGGGG IM SO SORRRYYY 😭😭

OKAY IM MOSTLY SORRY THAT THIS SCENARIO HAPPENED??? IDK WHERE ZHONGLI CAME FROM- GOD IM SUBCONCIOUSLY IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN I GUESS, SORRY RANDOMANTICS-

uh, hope somebody got anything out of this, sorry abt the length, again,

also pls somebody tell me if what i said about culture/food was alright! If not I’ll def change it, pls dont let me keep it up if its inaccurate/wrong!!

Safe Travels you guys,

💀♒️

.°•.☆.•°.

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk

#fuck my tags ♡#im so tired of putting them #idk why but my heads emptied of all i need to put <3 #UR HAVE SUCH GREAT IDEAS RANDOM!!!#i meant what i said before the gif!#genshin impact #genshin sagau #ask box open #sagau #my asks #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #genshin isekai #genshin god reader #zhongli imagines #zhongli x reader #genshin impact sagau

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friedbaekhyunandeggso · 1 year

Text

found you - ch. 2 (part II)

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, profanity, pet-names (baby, kitten), stalking/possessive themes, manipulation, dub/non-consented sex, nipple play, size kink (slightly), fingering, begging, oral (f receiving), praising/dirty talk, rough sex, choking (a lil) & jus gojo being unhinged (as usual)

word count/plot: [6.4k] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: i took forever to edit this bc for some reason i thought i already posted it LMAo BUT y'all i'm like 75% thru w the next chapter n i'm lowkey scared to post it LMFAO (yes ik i'm a slow writer but pLS bear w me, next chapter is also hella long & wild). anyway tysm for all ur comments on the last post, esp the long ones! i read all of them & they make me happy :,) pls enjoyy

ch. 1 , chapter 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ] , ch. 3

She jolted when she heard a knock on her bedroom window. She glanced over at the electric clock on her desk. 7:16 pm.

She swallowed, glancing over at her bedroom door to make sure it was locked before her head whipped around at the sound of his voice.

“Hi, baby.”

He stepped out from behind the curtains, that easygoing smile on his face. He wore a navy blue half-zip sweater, layered with a white tee underneath and loose-fitted light gray sweatpants. His platinum hair tousled as usual as he approached her. He looked like a model who'd just gotten off-duty.

She was rooted in her seat when he stepped up to her. His hand resting on the back rail of her chair as he bent low to press a light kiss on her neck. His familiar scent wafted over her as she turned away.

His hand slipped over her stomach to subtly push her back flat against the chair. She held back a slight gasp.

“I missed you at school today.” he muttered.

After their ‘altercation’ earlier, he tried to convince her to come back to school with him. He offered to take her in his car but she refused-using the excuse that she already called the school saying she was sick. He then promised that he’d see her after basketball practice. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

For a second, she wondered if she should hide in the basement again but she couldn’t even if she wanted to because her Dad had come home early. He would question why she was in the basement if she stayed there for longer than necessary.

She glanced over at him, her voice low, “My Dad’s home.”

“I know.” he murmured beside her ear, “You told me over text.”

She was hoping that would deter him. She shifted slightly in her seat as his hand began to caress her stomach, “Why are you so afraid of him?” he asked.

She went still-immediately tensing up in her chair. His eyes were attentive as he watched her. Millie had told him that her parents were strict but that was all he knew.

She lightly pushed away his hand from her stomach, “I have to use the bathroom.” she whispered.

His hand wrapped around her neck, his lips at her temple, “Don’t lie to me.”

She shot out of her chair, stepping several steps away from him to get some distance. “I-I don’t want to talk about it.” she gritted out.

She didn’t look at him, her shoulders stiff as she stood still. She felt her arms shaking at her sides as she mentally prepared herself to feel some sort of pain for her defiance. But instead all she was met with was the sound of a low sigh.

She felt hands cup her face and immediately looked up. His eyes glittered, in the same way that the ocean appeared when sunlight skimmed its surface. Not that she would know–she’d only seen it in videos.

He searched her face, “Fine. But you’ll tell me soon. You’ll tell me everything soon.”

He tilted his head, “Every problem of yours is mine.”

She merely stared at him. She wished she could scream. The type of scream that could let out all the frustration she was feeling–let out all the mental torment because she was so tired of feeling like this. She hated the tiny voice in the back of her mind that wanted to tell him everything-everything down to the miniscule details because she was tired. Tired of being so alone.

But she refused to share her problems with someone who was one of her problems themselves.

Why did life have to be this way?

She snapped out of her thoughts when she felt his lips press into hers lightly.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he said, against her lips.

Her eyes widened as she pulled back.

“We have my car. Let’s go somewhere–anywhere you want.” he offered.

She stared at him—silently watching the excitement grow in his eyes.

His hands at her face squeezed slightly, “C’mon, there’s gotta be something you want. Tell me.”

She shook her head, pushing his hands away from her as she looked aside. “I have homework to do.” she muttered.

“Such a good girl.” he teased, before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She resisted the urge to smack his hand away. He was always finding some excuse to touch her.

“Don’t you have school work to do as well?” she questioned. He was second in rank-right after her-and yet she'd never seen him do any schoolwork.

“I did most of it during my free period. I have some other stuff left but I can do it in the morning.”

“The morning?” she questioned.

He nodded before frowning, “I should’ve just brought my backpack with me. We could’ve studied together.” he pinched her cheek.

She immediately turned her head away and he chuckled. Before she could distance herself any further he grabbed her by the waist.

“I didn’t bring any books so I could pay attention to you, y’know. Now don’t make me sad and tell me where you wanna go.”

She shifted awkwardly in his hold-her hands going to his forearms, “What are you talking about-”

“Ara, I want attention,” he said, flat-out.

She froze, simply staring at him before blurting, “What are you-a baby?”

He grinned, “Yes, your baby.”

He cupped one of her tits, “I got needs, Mama.”

Just as her face twisted up and a chuckle nearly escaped his lips, her Dad’s voice suddenly arose.

“ARA! Come down and do the dishes!”

They both froze.

She pushed herself out of Gojo’s grasp, “Coming!”

Just as she headed towards the door, he grabbed her wrist.

“Listen, you better think of something or else I will.”

She hesitated before pulling her arm away and quickly leaving the room.

She stood outside her room-nervous. She had the excuse she was going to use on the tip of her tongue but she wasn’t sure how he was gonna take it. His reactions always varied.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, her room door opened and someone grabbed her arm–dragging her inside.

“Wha–” she nearly yelled but Gojo clamped his hand around her mouth.

“Shh.” he said as he silently closed the door behind her.

She glared at him, speaking through his hand, “Are you crazy? My Dad could’ve seen you.”

Her Dad had just been making his way up the stairs.

He dropped his hand, “You were taking too long. How many goddamn dishes were they?”

In truth, she had taken a while on purpose.

“A lot.” she mumbled.

He squinted-doubtfully-while watching her cross the room to her desk.

He folded his arms, leaning against the door, “Did you think of something?”

She avoided looking at him, “I seriously have work to do, Satoru..”

He uncrossed his arms, letting them drop to his sides, “I knew you were gonna say that.”

“What the hell..” she muttered, while looking at her open notebook before her. All of the questions she had to work on were already filled in. She flipped the page to see he had answered the rest of the questions as well.

She nearly jumped when she felt his arms slip around her, “Happy birthday.” he teased.

She blinked-in shock. She racked her brain for an excuse. Anything–something—

His arms squeezed around her tighter, pulling her further into his chest. He nuzzled his face into her hair, “My plan.” he murmured, possessively.

Gojo glanced over at her before tugging at her hand in his.

He pulled her into a hug, “You look so damn cute.”

She closed her eyes, merely letting herself get crushed before ducking to pull herself out of his grasp.

“You’re just saying that because I’m in your sweater.”

They had waited until her Dad retreated into his room before leaving through the window. As they waited, Gojo had wanted to pick out her outfit. She refused-instead she decided to wear black cargo pants and a graphic tee she had lying around.

He’d insisted that she wear his half-zip pullover on top because it might be ‘cold’ but in reality he just wanted to fulfill his fantasy of his girl wearing his clothes.

She stopped short, staring at the matte black McLaren P1 parked on the street. She resisted the urge to let her mouth fall open.

She turned around, “I want to go home.”

In truth, she didn’t want to be outside in the first place. She didn’t like the idea of sneaking out, especially with her Dad home but Gojo hadn’t stopped nagging. So instead the argument boiled down to making the trip super quick. He promised she’d be back in her room in a ‘jiffy’.

He grabbed her shoulders, “What happened?”

She couldn’t stand it. Him casually driving a $2 million car. It was downright obnoxious. She hated that she knew such details but it couldn’t be helped. She had a car phase back in middle school.

She glared up at him, “Did you do this on purpose?” she asked, without a second thought.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding genuine-for once.

Her annoyance got the best of her as she spat, “Is this why you wanted to go out this bad? So you can show off.”

He raised a white brow, “Show off? Show off what?”

She eyed him, warily. There’s no way he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. He’s the school’s biggest flexer and he knows it.

She stared at his clueless expression with growing doubt. Does he really not know? Is driving luxury cars that much of a normal occurrence for him? How infuriating.

She looked away from him while responding flatly, “The car.”

He glanced over at the car before looking back at her. His expression blank. He repeated the action with a furrowed brow before finally drawing the connection.

He started to laugh, brightly, “What—No, no. I take the McLaren out sometimes since my Dad’s barely around to use it. It’s not mine.”

She stared at him in dubious shock. He’d said the words so casually it was maddening. Even the airiness of his laugh sounded rich.

She wanted to scoff. As if ownership is the concern. Did he not realize the price of that car could change the entirety of someone’s life? A person could go from homeless to having enough money leftover to leave to their children. She’d be set for life with that kind of money—she’d never have to rely on her Dad again.

“I want to go home.” she murmured. She didn’t think she could step in that car without feeling sick.

His hand came up to her throat and she was forced to look up at him. Her eyes went wide.

His cool, turquoise eyes scanned her face, “It’s my plan, remember?”

She swallowed, before nodding silently. His hand felt cold on her neck. She wondered if he could feel her pulse.

“Stop worrying.” His hand slid to her jaw, his thumb grazing over her bottom lip, “You’ll be home in no time.”

She stared up at him. Her heartbeat going off at a flimsy rate as she realized there was no getting out of this one. Something about his tone made it clear.

She jolted when his lips suddenly met hers. His lips were delicate—prompting. Light, short kisses that were followed up with another. His hand on her jaw drawing her closer.

The kiss felt like a reminder. A reminder that this was still his way, his rules.

She covered her face in her hands, despite the car windows being tinted already.

She hated the attention.

She knew it was coming-she anticipated it a mile away. There was no way people were going to ignore a car like this at an ice cream parlor.

She already recognized half of the people here from school. It was the local ice cream spot that everyone went to. She was grateful Gojo respected her rule of wanting to keep their ‘relationship’ private because she was certain she’d crumble to dust if she had to step out of the car with that many eyes on her.

And yet, Gojo did it with ease.

She kept her hands over her face when the door of McLaren opened upwards in its obnoxious fashion. She didn’t need to look to know several people were staring at Gojo slip into the car.

She felt something hard poke at the top of her head, “Kitten.”

She raised her head to see him lower a soft serve ice cream cone in front of her. Apparently, that was something she was required to get.

She took it, “Thank you.”

A short laugh left him and she glanced over to see him sitting comfortably in his seat, arm resting on the ledge of the car door. A subtle grin on his lips as he stared at her.

“Is being seen with me that much of a problem?”

She tensed, her grip on the cone tightening as she tried to come up with a safe answer. Her mind drew a complete blank—betraying her.

Her heart beat skyrocketed when she suddenly felt Gojo’s large hand on her thigh. He squeezed.

A soft sigh left his lips and she couldn’t resist glancing his way. She tried to keep the fear off of her face only to freeze when she was met with a rather fond expression on his countenance.

His thumb caressed her thigh, “You’re shyness just makes me want to mess you up more, y’know.”

She was rooted in spot when he leaned over to place a light kiss on the corner of her lip.

He leaned back in his seat, “Go on,” he urged, faint amusement laced in his tone as he gestured towards her cone, “Eat.”

She complied, licking up the side of the soft serve. It was delicious. She couldn’t remember the last time she had it.

“How is it.” he asked, his voice oddly tight.

She licked her lips, before glancing over at him. For once his eyes were dark, nearly black. A thinly amused smile rested on his lips. She couldn’t understand his expression. She stared between his eyes, her heartbeat racing when she realized he looked.. almost.. hungry.

“It’s.. good.” she murmured.

His hand on her thigh squeezed again, making her jolt subtly.

Suddenly his face was in her neck, a breathy sound leaving his lips as his hands slipped underneath her shirt. One hand slid around her back, pulling her close to him by slipping around the curve of her waist. His other hand crept up her stomach before cupping her tits over her bra—squeezing tight.

“I can’t take it,” he nipped at her neck, “You’re gonna look so pretty giving me head.”

Her eyes widened—belatedly clocking why Gojo insisted she get the soft-serve ice cream.

She writhed underneath his hands at her tits, “Ungh—“ she shoved him away with her free hand, “You’re such a pervert.”

A dry laugh escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, running his hands over his face. Her breath stopped short when she saw the outline of something protruding in his sweatpants as he shifted in his seat.

He lowered his hands, his eyes glittering as he faced her. His head still against the headrest, “Only for you.”

“That… doesn’t make it any better.”

A smirk lit his face before his hand suddenly wrapped around her neck. She froze.

“It’s your fault. If you didn’t make my dick hard the second we met, maybe I wouldn’t be like this.”

His fingers began to caress her neck, his eyes sharp-yet endearing somehow. She felt like a flighty dove being petted by its owner-while the owner decided to kill it or not.

“You’re everything I’m not. No one knows a damn thing about you. You barely talk—in fact, you go out of your way to avoid people,” he laughed slightly, “The one friend you got, you made on the bus.”

“You're not involved in sports or clubs—not even a internship or volunteering. You’re somehow on every teacher's good side,” he smirked a bit, “That’s impossible for me.” She didn’t doubt it, Mrs. Finch was living proof.

“You don’t party, drink or smoke,” he shook his head, “You can’t imagine my surprise when your name was called first during ranking.”

His blue eyes shimmered in the dark, “A girl I didn’t even know exists. A quiet ace. Too reserved for her own good.” The words felt almost mocking.

His fingers tightened around her neck, “I was so mad I never noticed you before.”

He chuckled slightly, “Suguru didn’t get it. He didn’t get why I had to know you,“ The corner of his lip tugged upwards, “Why I wanted to peel back every layer of you and figure you out.”

“But I.. I had to understand how someone like you exists. There’s no way someone that smart wouldn’t show it off. There’s no way you’re first in rank with no extracurriculars either, but—you're just that good aren’t you?”

His face was close to hers now, “Have you ever gotten anything below a 95 in your life?”

She wasn’t breathing. It was true. She hadn’t—she wanted to say she was naturally gifted at school. And maybe she was to some extent, but without fail-she always tried on her assignments. No matter how hopeless, depressed and alone she felt. Completing her assignments and getting good grades was the only validation she got. The only validation that felt just.

She happened to get close to teachers because of it. Teachers always respected her intellect, despite her introvertedness.

“It would’ve been easier if I was mad at you,” he mused, a faint smile on his lips, “Suguru thought I was—he thought I felt one upped by you. And I guess I did.. for a bit.”

He chuckled, “Ego is such a fickle thing.. You don’t know how much you bruised mine when you didn’t even speak to me when I first approached you.”

His smile widened, “No one’s ever treated me like that. Even people who don’t like me still spare me a word, at least.”

His hand around her throat drew her closer, “You looked at me like I was nothing.”

A dark smile spread across his lips, “And now I’m gonna become your everything.”

Just as he lowered his lips for a kiss, she wrenched out of his grasp. Her back partly against her seat and the car door as she breathed raggedly. She felt drops of ice-cream slip past her fingers and make puddles on the floor.

She closed her eyes, trembling so bad that she didn’t even want to look at him.

“Ara,” his voice felt distant to her ears, “Araa, did I scare you?”

She flinched when she felt his knuckles graze her cheek, immediately facing the other way before freezing when she realized she wasn’t supposed to act like this. She was supposed to act like she was afraid of falling in love with him.

But how could she? How could she act when he’d completely ruined her just for the sake of his ego. She felt sick—absolutely sick. She wanted to be anywhere else but in the car with him. Home or miles and miles away. Anywhere but here.

“Ara,” his voice was soft, closer, “I’m sorry, kitten, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She flinched once more when she felt his hand run down the crown of her head to her nape, smoothing down her hair.

“I just meant that you’re mine.” his tone was low, assuring. “You were always mine. The rankings just helped me find you.”

His fingers tightened around her nape slightly, “I take care of what’s mine.”

Her exhale came out staggered as she tried not to cry. Her trembling body straightened slightly as she opened her eyes to face him. She knew her eyes were watery.

His eyes were cool, a calm ocean-blue as he assessed her.

“I know.” she murmured, through wobbly lips. Carefully slipping her mask on in silence.

She thought she saw something flicker in his eyes, “Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as he drew her closer to him—letting him kiss her. The kiss wasn’t kind. She knew he was tasting her-tasting the ice cream on her lips-her mouth-as he kissed her. His hand on her nape held her firmly as he tilted his head to kiss her more.

The kiss felt like a claim; a claim that seeped further into her skin the longer he held her lips captive. She had a sickening feeling that she was signing her life away.

She knew what was going to happen when they got home. And it was confirmed when he stopped by the convenience store on the way back.

She didn’t need to look in the bag to know he’d gotten condoms. He got her a lollipop, one for himself as well—as if they needed more sweets after all the ice cream they ate.

The second they made it through the window, his eyes were on her—the hunger in them palpable.

She swallowed, stepping backwards slowly, “You're staying the night?” she asked, despite already knowing the answer.

It took him two strides to stand in front of her, he grasped her chin, “Of course, baby.”

His crystalline eyes scanned her face before he bent over to give her a kiss. Just as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, she drew her face back.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom.” she didn’t know why she was whispering but it couldn’t be helped.

He stared at her for a moment before releasing her chin. “ ‘Kay, kitten.”

She quickly entered the bathroom attached to her room and locked the door. The second she was alone, she teared up. She wished she could stay in the bathroom forever. What would he do if she did? Would he break in the bathroom door? Would the sound of that awaken her Father?

She shivered, hugging herself tight as she hunched over the sink. She felt like she was going to throw up.

Her hands went to the countertop’s edge, her fingers tightening around its sides as she forced herself to breathe. She couldn’t afford to break down just yet. Gojo was waiting in the room for her and who knows what he would do if she took too long.

She closed her eyes, wanting to scream. She knew what she didn’t want to do but she knew what she had to do.

“It’s just an act,” she whispered to herself, her voice cracking, “Just an act.”

Her body gradually went from trembling to stiller than stone as she convinced herself-convinced herself that she could do this. Despite every nerve ending in her body telling her to run as far away as possible.

She didn’t dare look in the mirror before her; she knew one look into her own eyes would make her lose all resolve. Instead, she straightened and stepped out of the bathroom.

She glanced around her dark room. The moonlight streaming through her open curtains being the only source of light within the darkness. Her eyes landed on Gojo.

He was laying down on her bed, shirtless, lollipop in his mouth. Bright blue eyes already on hers.

A light smile graced his features as he pulled out the empty lollipop stick from his mouth and tossed it somewhere on the floor. He sat up, his cool eyes looking her up and down before patting the space on the bed in front of him.

She hesitated before walking stiffly towards him. Her resolve slowly slipping away with each step. Every signal in her body told her to walk the opposite direction.

When she was two steps away from the spot of the bed he’d gestured towards, he reached out to her. His hands slipped around her waist—pulling her in between his legs on the edge of the bed.

“Are you trying to tease me by walking slow?” he nearly whined.

He ran his hands along her sides before tugging his sweater off of her. His eyes never left hers as he tugged off her shirt next. She did her best to refrain from trembling.

His eyes widened in appreciation at her lacey white padded bra.

He bit his lower lip before bending over to pull down her pants. She jolted when his hands went to the back of her knees and calves, maneuvering her legs to step out of her pants.

He leaned back then, his eyes looking up and down her body before letting out a low groan. His hands on her hips squeezing needily.

“Fuck, so pretty.”

His index fingers hooked into her panties on either side of her hips—bunching up her panties before tugging upwards. She gasped, nearly falling forward as her panties rubbed against her clit.

Her hands went to his thighs to keep from falling and he smirked.

“These are mine.” he murmured into her ear before bending over to pull her panties down. She shivered when she felt his temple graze her hip as he maneuvered her legs again to get her to step out of her panties. He lightly bit her hip before sitting up straight.

He slipped her panties into his sweatpant pockets, a shameless grin on his face. She flushed.

His hands slipped around her ass, drawing her closer between his legs until she felt the tip of his cock against her navel through his sweats. She gasped when his large hands squeezed her ass cheeks while nipping at her neck.

His lips and teeth were insistent along her neck and shoulder—she knew there would be marks. The hickeys from their first time still hadn’t completely healed.

Suddenly his hands were at her tits, squeezing heartily while he marked the skin between her collarbones. She winced.

He withdrew slightly, squeezing her tits once more, “Fuck, baby, this bra is so cute. Makes you look so pretty. Gonna buy you one in every color.”

He squeezed her tits hard and she trembled slightly.

“G-Satoru-please.” she whispered.

“Please what, kitten.” he murmured before reaching around her to easily unclip her bra.

“Y-you hold me so tight.”

She felt his cock twitch against her belly. He cupped her bare tits, his thumbs running over her areolas before squeezing her tits in the entirety of his palms.

He groaned, “Cause these tits are mine, baby.”

Suddenly his arm slipped around her ass and she was flipped onto the bed, her back to the sheets. He lay atop her, his mouth on her tits.

His tongue lapped up her areola, the tip of his tongue flicking at its center to make her nipples harden. Once her nipple hardened against his tongue, she felt his hard cock twitch against her lower belly. His hips bucking into her as he fondled her unattended tit in his palm.

He sucked her nipples, hard—repeatedly swirling his tongue around it at first before sucking her tits like he could actually get some breast milk. He pulled away slightly, staring at her perky, puffy nipples with a satisfied gleam in his eyes before lowering his head to leave a dark hickeys on the side of her breasts. His clothed cock grinding against her spread legs all the while.

She whimpered as he began to give the same attention to her other tit--now palming the one that was covered in love bites.

His tongue flicked her nipple in his mouth before groaning. He withdrew slightly to look up at her and mutter-a string of saliva attached to his lip, “Could suck these tits forever.”

She couldn’t deny the feeling him playing with her tits elicited. It made something in her grow hot-hot enough to make her squirm. But due to being completely surrounded by Gojo’s huge body she couldn’t move as much as she would’ve liked.

She grit her teeth, unable to hold back a low moan as he moved the flat of his tongue over her hard nipple-flicking at it with the tip of his tongue. Her back arched, putting more of her tit in his mouth before she slipped her fingers through his white hair and pulled him back. She couldn’t take it.

His blue eyes were immediately on her, searching her face closely. She trembled slightly before deciding to distract him by pulling his face up to kiss her. He eagerly complied.

His lips crashed into hers, tongue viciously sweeping her mouth. He was hungry.

The pace of his grinding picked up a thousandfold, almost as if he were trying to fuck her through his sweats. His cock was so stiff, she couldn’t help but whimper in his mouth as he kissed her.

He drew his head back slightly to bite at her bottom lip. She felt his large hand slide down her shoulder, past her collarbones, over her tits, her stomach before coming to a stop at her entrance. His fingertips touched her pussy lips.

He broke the kiss to watch her expression as he slipped his fingers into her—only to end up groaning himself.

His head dropped as he began to pump his middle and ring finger in and out of her slowly, “So fuckin’ wet.”

She whimpered as his fingers continued to pump into her—the feeling making her twist underneath him.

As she began to writhe, his face somehow came before hers, “Does it feel good, baby.”

Her eyes widened, her face immediately heating up. She would die before admitting anything he did felt good—even if it unfortunately did. It felt so much better to be touched by someone else than herself.

Why’d it have to be him making me feel like this?

Suddenly the pace of his fingers picked up drastically and she cried out. Her insides instinctively tightening around his fingers.

"S-satoru! Unghh-ah!-oh my-nnnghh!" she mewled.

“There you go,” he muttered as she began to moan and whine at each rough fingerfuck. He dipped his fingers knuckle deep within her, his pace insistent.

He perused her writhing figure beneath him, his firm form keeping her in place. Her tits swung upwards with each forceful shove of his fingers. He flushed, his cerulean blue eyes locked in on her face as a subtle smirk bloomed along his lips.

“I wish you could see yourself right now.” his voice husky, “You look so fuckin’ good.”

Her walls clamped around his fingers and his smirk widened. He dropped a light kiss on her lips, “Want you to cum, kitten.”

His fingers managed to move faster within her. She yelped, her back arching as she pushed at his shoulders. He didn’t budge.

“Please-no-nnghh–ah!-uh-”

“Wanna see the pretty face you make when you cum all over my fingers.” he spoke into her temple.

“N-no!” she gasped out when she felt it—horror consuming her when her body seemed to respond to his words, his pace. Her insides grew hot, hot in that way that felt torturously good.

His hand clamped her over lips when she screamed in betrayal. Her body writhed uncontrollably as waves after waves of pleasure rolled over her, making her shake around his ruthless fingers.

“Fuck, so hot.” he gritted out-his eyes never leaving her face. He kept up his pace until her shakiness subsided.

“Such a good girl.. gave me what I want so fast,” His smirk reappeared, “You like my fingers that much?”

She frowned-her voice hoarse as she responded instinctively, “N-no.”

Suddenly his thumb pressed against her puffy clit, making her jump. He began to rub her clit at a perfect pressure.

“Ah!-Goj-nnghh-no! Fuck-” she moaned, unable to stop herself.

“Liar.” he grinned.

She grit her teeth, hating the control he had on her body with every part of her being. She attempted to squeeze her thighs together-to end his ministrations but it was useless. His firm waist planted between her legs left her with no control. She couldn’t ignore his hard length poking at her inner thigh, it was as if it were demanding her attention.

Suddenly he leaned back-lifting his fingers to his lips to taste her juices. The sight was filthy and intoxicating.

“Mm-Fuck, taste so good, kitten.” he muttered, before lowering himself. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and immediately placed his mouth over her clit.

She jerked forward, gasping-but his hold on her thighs kept her legs wide open.

“Gojo!” she cried out through gritted teeth. He sucked along her clit and entrance with such diligence—as if he were starving.

“Nngh—P-please-haah-” she wanted to beg him to stop but it seemed to have the opposite effect. His hands tightened around her thighs as he dug his face deeper between her legs.

The feeling was so unexpected she couldn’t help but whine in desperation. Moans slipped out of her as his tongue expertly licked her cunt. It was overwhelming.

He lapped up her clit, making her jolt. The flat of his tongue rubbed against her tense nub-making her all too sensitive. She couldn’t take it.

“S-Satoru, stop! St-unghhh-ah-nngh! Please-please.”

He sucked her clit deliriously-as if he couldn’t get enough. His tongue powering past her rowdy hips and her futile attempts to shove his head away. His arms around her thighs forced her hips down and apart. His tongue swirled endlessly around her puffy clit-the tip of his tongue pressing and sucking right where she needed it most.

Her mewls went silent as she spasmed, cumming harder than ever. She felt like she was floating. Her body bucked as she bit her lower lip-hard-to hide the obnoxious moans on the cusp of her lips. Her body felt like it had been caught on fire-in the best way possible.

When he removed his lips from her cunt, she stared up at the ceiling-refusing to let herself wallow in the self-hatred threatening to consume her. Why am I enjoying this?

She winced when she felt his fingers slip into her cunt again. She was so wet and gummy inside that the action made a subtle lewd sound. He groaned, pumping his fingers into her lazily, “Fuck-so wet-so ready for me.”

He slipped his fingers out before climbing atop her to press a passionate kiss to her lips. He kissed her so hard she was pressed deeper into the bed. His tongue tangling with hers, kissing her roughly as if trying to consume her.

He broke the kiss, “You taste yourself, hm? Did you taste how sweet your pretty cunt is?”

He spread her legs apart, “Gonna use this sweet lil cunt as many times I want.”

She shivered as she watched him look her up and down with such obvious hunger. Her legs instinctively drew closer but he shoved them apart.

Her eyes widened in horror to see that he was already naked. Condom already on his cock.

Before she could even react, his hand slid around her neck. His grip tight around her throat as he thrust his full length into her.

She couldn't even scream, her back naturally arching as her cunt was forced to adjust to him. It didn't matter how wet she was, his cock always pried her apart. Her breath was stuck in her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut, teeth grit together in pain. The action had been so rough, she couldn’t handle it.

Suddenly his hand on her throat slid to her jaw, forcing her to face him above her.

“Look at me, kitten. Look at what I do to you.”

She wanted to sob-a weak sound leaving her lips as his hand around her jaw tightened.

“Ara..” he murmured into her temple so breathlessly-so needily-as if she were his most desired prayer. As if he'd die without her.

She whimpered, her cunt inadvertently squeezing around him. His breath caught and she knew she was doomed.

His fingers clasped around her throat while his other hand gripped the softest part of her hip, before fucking her like a ragdoll.

She didn’t know how the bed didn’t fall apart, she felt like her insides were. She was so loud-her throat was sore from how loud she was. His hand over her mouth was the only thing saving her dignity.

She felt like she could feel every veiny ridge of his cock, burning into her insides with each rough fuck. He made sure her cunt took all of him in-no matter how tight the fit was. It felt impossible to get used to.

“Ara.. oh, Ara..” he breathed huskily into her neck, “F-fuck,” his hand tightened over her mouth as he continued to fuck the daylight out of her.

The sounds of their lewd sex filled the air. She couldn’t breathe. Tears slipped down the sides of her face. Her throat scratchy.

“Feel so good, baby, fuck,” he babbled, “You get me so hard-haah-Wanna hear all those cute lil sounds you’re makin’—fuck-so perfect, perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

His cock pistoned into her relentlessly. She wasn’t sure she had a single coherent thought left in her brain.

And suddenly, his breath hitched and she swore his cock grew stiffer. His hips stuttered before slamming into her completely, forcing her hips to rise as he buried his cock deep.

Panic swarmed into her at the thought of him having no condom but she remembered, she’d seen it on his cock before he entered her. She shivered when she felt something warmer than her insides pour into her, though it felt much more subdued compared to when he’d dumped loads of his cum in her before.

She shivered when his cock continued to twitch. His hands gripped her hips tight as he continued to push her body up to lodge his cock deeper, as if wanting her to feel every single part of him.

She let out a low, staggered cry at the sensation of feeling so full. Her back arched, her tits pressing into his chest as his cock rocked into her.

He groaned desperately, his face pressing into the side of hers. She was sure his grip on her hips was bound to leave marks.

Finally, his cock stopped twitching and she heard him sigh.

He cupped one of her tits, caressing her, “You make me feel so good, kitten.”

She shivered when she felt him lightly kiss her jaw, then nip at her throat. She knew there were bound to be marks left later.

She shifted slightly underneath him, he was still inside of her. He was still hard.

Her voice came out quiet and scratchy-almost fearful, “I-I’m tired, Satoru.”

His lips over her collarbone paused their ministrations. She felt her pulse skyrocket at his silence.

Suddenly his face appeared before hers, the tips of his platinum hair touching her forehead as his blue eyes scanned her face.

“Don’t be selfish now, Ara,” his voice was gravelly yet soft as he lowered himself to kiss her. The kiss was gentle, probing-she felt his cock twitch.

“We’re just getting started.”

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