#btw i’m still questioning my sexuality

[person25]

Something that has always bothered me is when a show/movie says something like “I want you to find the person for you. Then you’ll understand how it feels to be truly happy.”

Every time it’s said i yell “wrong!” at the tv. Really, are you saying the only way i can find true peace in life is if i’m in a romantic relationship?

My parents never understand why i have such strong feelings about this but that’s not much of a surprise.

[cherryblossom-heart]

I hate you (9.5/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

Things get clearer for Sukuna

Content Warning: Fluff, Enemies to lovers, Sukuna being nice? (if you can call it that) Sukuna is his own warning, mention of sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). Sukuna battling his feelings. This is a +18 series so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you.

W.C. 2.6.K

A/N: Hi besties! I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter, memi messed up my convos for other series and this one too so I was just busy re doing everything again. Hope you guys like it! Oh btw I listened Mitskis' My Love Mine All Mine on repeat while writing this in case you want to give it a try haha

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

7:17 P.M.

“Finally.” Sukuna rolled his eyes as you walked to him. “Taking forever, for what?”

“Oh, shut up. Like you don’t like what you see.” You winked at him.

A faint wave of heat rushed to his face and he wanted to ride away. Even if he had gotten used to this unexpected reaction, they didn’t make them any less annoying. He wasn’t about to admit he knew that even if you were wearing a garbage bag as a dress, his heart would still race any time you came through that door.

He remembered his cousin laughing once he told him he would take you to that stupid bands concert and asked him if he would cover your shift.

“So you’re telling me you’re taking her to a concert, of a band you don’t even like, just because?” Choso’s words were strained as he fought to get air back to his lungs.

Sukunas patience was running thin, not that it was hard to get it to that level to begin with, but the more Choso’s words bounced around his head, the more he questioned what the point of this was.

Why was he even taking you? He couldn’t even stand their music.

“You’re covering her shift or not?” Sukuna barked, which typically was enough to make people around him quiet. Unluckily for him, Choso didn’t hold the same fear for him as others, it didn’t help him, and Sukuna knew each other since they were in diapers.

“Oh, I’ll definitely take it. But you just have to answer one question.” His voice was full of amusement as he hung an arm around Sukuna. “How long has she had you this whipped?”

“Fuck you.” He shook off his arm of his shoulders.

Whatever, taking you wasn’t worth this hassle.

Or any hassle at all.

Maybe he could talk to Toji. Cash in a favor.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. If anyone was going to be able to tame you, it definitely would be her.” Choso laughed.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’ve seen her right? Girls got a little crazy in her. Remember that time she beat up that Yorozu chick for saying all that fucked up shit about Uraume?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow “What?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were too busy to go to school. I’m surprised you even graduated.” Choso rolled his eyes, pulling out a cigarette from the carton he kept in his pocket, a habit he displayed whenever he talked for too long with his cousin. “After their mom died, Yorozu began the rumor Uraume fucked people to get money to pay the rent, that’s why they were never in school.”

That cunt.

Sukunas memories traveled back to his teenage years, he remembered a day where he had found you in the living room, your messy hair and a busted lip catching his attention. He had made the mistake of leaving you alone, thinking he didn’t care enough to ask.

And you didn’t like him enough to answer.

“Then one day your girl comes in, walks to Yorozu and sucker punches her right in the jaw. No warning, nothing. By the time the teachers were able to pull her off Yorozu, she already had a broken nose and her whole face was turning purple. I’ve never seen anything like that, I really thought she was going to kill her.” Choso shook his head. “Maybe you finally found your match”

His cousins’ words tormented his thoughts ever since.

God, he was right, wasn’t he? He was completely and utterly whipped. He didn’t remember the last time he had fucked someone else without you popping in his head every five seconds. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last day he had gone through without thinking of you at least once.

“What’s that?” You asked as you reached him, looking back to the hand he has behind his back.

Fuck.

“Here.” Sukuna pulled out a bouquet of deep red roses, almost slamming them against you. “Jin said I should bring this.” He scoffed, as if he wasn’t the one that decided to buy them.

“Aww.” You coo at them as you smell them. Sukuna’s eyes diverted from you, not wanting that brewing warm sensation you brought him to pop up, this was already hard enough as it was. “I love them. Maybe I should’ve gone out with Jin instead.” You teased him with that cocky little smirk that made his blood boil.

“I’m taking you out on a stupid date and you can’t stop being a slut for five minutes?” Sukuna rolled his eyes.

He expected to get a snarky remark, perhaps a slap in the arm or head but you had the annoying tendency to surprise him. You leaned over to him, placing a tender kiss on his cheek before walking backwards to your house.

His heart began racing. The drumming of his pulse echoed on his ears so loudly he thought you might’ve heard it.

“Don’t be an ass, you know I have more fun with you.” You winked at him before turning around.

“Where you going?” Were the only words he managed to say.

“To put them in a vase. Don’t want them dying on me, this might be the only proof of you ever being nice.”

Darkened eyes followed your every step, each one giving Sukuna a clear answer.

He was losing his mind, and it was all your fault.

8:21 P.M.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked as you hopped of his bike, pulling down on the now inconvenient black skirt you had decided to wear.

“Piss me off enough and I might.”

“Whatever.” You glared at him, kicking a rock in the ground. “If you’re not going to kill me then what are we doing in the middle of the woods?”

“What? You scared, brat?”

You laughed. “As if. I’m more scared of an animal eating us. If a bear attacks us, I’m leaving your ass.”

Sukuna made his way through the path he had grown accustomed to, the sound of your heels scraping against the unstable ground the woods offered following close behind. He could hear you cursing under your breath, your annoyance growing the more you kept tripping.

“You could’ve told me we were going to the fucking woods.”

“Not my fault you dress like a cheap prostitute whenever you’re going out.”

“First of all, fuck you.” You caught up to him, slapping him in the back of the head. “Second, if I was a prostitute, you could never afford me.”

Sukuna held you by the arm, spinning you in front of him. His chest pressed against your back; his grip tight on your hips. He leaned over you, lips almost brushing against your ear.

“Why would I pay you when I already have you for free.”

“For now.” You turned around. “Piss me off enough and I might just change boytoys.”

You placed a kiss on his cheek before moving along and Sukuna never wished more to fuck you and strangle you at the same time.

8:29 P.M.

“Over here.”

“I swear if you brought me all the way over here for nothing I will cut your balls– “

“Hey.”

Jin’s voice cut through the emptiness of the forest making you jump. You turned to the direction of his voice, racing to Sukunas twin brother. It never ceased to amaze you how similar they were physically, but as soon as your eyes connected with Jin’s the softness in them almost made you chuckle.

“Jin!” You raced to him, engulfing him in a suffocating hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been busy with Yuji.”

Jin’s eyes met his brothers as he debated where to settle his hands. Sukunas burning gaze gave him the answer he needed.

“What are you doing here? Please tell me you’re my date instead of your idiot of a brother.” You teased him, causing a slight blush on his face. “You’re already much better than him. The flowers were a nice touch.”

“Flowers? I didn’t… oh. Oh! Yeah, no problem.”

Sukuna was about to turn Yuji into an orphan.

“I was just helping him set this up.” Jin pointed behind himself,

Your eyes grew wide as you took in what your date would be. In the middle of the field laid a lightweight red blanket, a couple of lanterns on each side made it visible. Laid out in the middle there were a few containers with what you assumed were food, steam covering the inside.

You smiled at Sukuna, and he could’ve sworn his world stopped for a second.

“It was his idea.” He grunted, hoping his brother would take the hint.

“Yeah, I thought you would like it.”

You stared back at Sukuna for a second longer, a playful glint on your eyes, before you turned around and hugged Jin again.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.” You placed a small kiss on his cheek, your lipstick tainting his skin. “Maybe you should stay, and we’ll ditch your brother.”

“I– “

“He’s leaving. Now.”

“Bye, Jin!”

Sukuna dragged his brother, pulling him to the main road that led back to the parking lot. He took out his keys, throwing them to Jin before snatching away his brother’s car keys.

“If there’s a scratch on her I’ll fucking kill you, you understand?” Sukuna warned his brother.

“Yeah.” His brother cleared his throat, making sure they were at a safe distance from you. “You know, it’s not the worst thing in the world if you do like her. She’s always been nice.”

Nice wouldn’t be the word that Sukuna would use to describe you.

“Whatever, just don’t crash my fucking bike.”

“I won’t.” Before turning away Jin called for your attention, his arm waving in the air. “You’re coming to Yuji’s birthday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

After one last menacing look from his older brother, Jin finally left. Sukuna had made a mental note of reminding Jin who the older brother was, even if it was just for a few minutes of difference.

“So, a picnic huh?” You teased and Sukuna wanted the earth to collapse right there and then.

“Jin’s idea.” He shrugged, grabbing a can of beer from the ground.

You sat down, crossing your legs in front of you as you settled down. “Oh yeah, it was his idea? Just like the flowers you got me?”

“Shut up.”

Why did he agree to this in the first place?

9:23 P.M

“... then all of the sudden Uraume bolts in the room and grabs me from the back of the neck, tossing me to the floor and I’m thinking ‘this is it, my life is about to end at thirteen all because I wanted to use a stupid pair of boots that stink and aren’t even that great’. Before they could even put a hand on me, I hooked my feet in the back of their leg and Uraume just straight up just collapses.”

“No fucking way you got them like that.” Sukuna half scoffed, half laughed, shaking his head at the thought of you overpowering Uraume.

As if.

You shoved him playfully. “I swear on my life, I don’t know why but that’s their Achilles point. Well, more like knee but you know what I mean.”

“So, you’re telling me you did the same thing to get them to back off my dick?”

“Pretty much.” You shrug. “I got on top of them, coughed up some phlegm and threatened them to get it on their face if they didn’t stop.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Sukuna laughed, his stomach hurting from the laughter the mental image of Uraume being defenseless brought to him. “No wonder they didn’t fucking told me what you did.”

“Let’s keep it a secret between us, pretty boy.”

“Fuck off, I told you not to call me that.”

You turned to him, eyelids half open as the alcohol relaxed your body. “But you are my pretty boy.”

That damn smirk made him want to choke you.

And kiss you.

“Tell me something.” You took another sip of your beer, a small drop falling from the corner of your lips. “Why are you doing all this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

The question of the year. Why do all this? Why put any effort behind this? Why did the thought of another man touching brought an anger in him he couldn’t explain? Why did he care about you? Why did the thought of spending time with you made his heart race? Why did your touch bring a tenderness in him he wasn’t aware of its existence before?

He had no idea, yet he craved you with everything in him.

“I don’t know. Just trying to see what happens.” He grunted, his nonchalance being his refuge when he couldn’t even explain it to himself.

“Uh huh.” Unconvinced by his words, you moved closer to him, your arm almost touching his. “Wanna know what I think.”

“Not really.”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

Sukuna scoffed

“You wish.”

“And I think you want to date me.”

“Shut the fuck off.”

“And you want to know the worst part about it?”

You laid down on the floor, your eyes focused on the starts above you.

“What?”

You sighed. “I think I might want to date you too.”

Sukunas head snapped to you.

“I know, crazy.” You let out a small laugh, as if you were just now coming to that realization. “You’re violent, obnoxious, immature, selfish, a sociopath at times, a bigger slut than I am, you have a terrible way of dealing with things, at times I really wish I could strangle you so I would never have to see you again. And yet… I still like you. Enough to try at least.”

I still like you.

The words bounced around his brain as he tried to make sense of them. He knew what he was supposed to do, he should push back. Deny every crazy allegation, go deeper into the reasons why he would never like you, tell you about every logical point on why he could never date you. Your fear of relationship, your extensive list of sexual partners, the fact that you drove him insane and the fact that only you could enact so much rage off him with just a couple of looks.

He hated you.

He hated the way you made him feel.

He hated the space you had taken over in his thoughts.

He hated the space you had carved in his heart.

He hated everything about you but lately he couldn’t remember why he had started to hate you in the first place.

“God, I fucking hate you.” He said as he laid down with you, the toughness of the ground aligning his back.

You chuckled. “Ditto.”

Your hand found his, fingers entwining with his.

Sukunas eyes stayed on you, watching you admire the night sky. He could see every movement you made, the way your eyes focused on following the chain of stars, trying to find sense in the constellations up in the sky.

And right there and then, with the moonlight hitting your skin, Sukuna thought he never saw anything more beautiful.

His hands moved faster than he could control them, pulling your face to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise, and he wondered if you could feel the same warmth he felt whenever he touched you. Judging the way your eyes softened, he thought you did.

His hand traveled to your neck, his fingertips barely connecting with your skin. Your eyes darkened, traveling back and forth from his lips back to his irises and Sukuna knew he was screwed.

He truly did like you.

Fuck, he might even…

No, he could only deal with one catastrophic realization a day. That could wait.

At least until tomorrow, when his mind and soul were stronger to fight of the truth.

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

Taglist:

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[koimethehorizon]

DELTARUNE: A Masochistic Reading of Noelle Holiday and Trends of Masochistic Invalidation

(MASSIVE SPOILERS for all of Deltarune!)

To preface beforehand… everything I’m about to discuss is purely from my own reading, observations, research, and knowledge from friends within alternative communities (S&M and kink) while having very little personal experience with those communities myself. If this makes everything I’m about to discuss feel fraudulent, you are valid for assuming so. Frankly, I’ve been musing over whether I should even be the person writing this analysis. But as a fan of the Deltarune community and especially this character, I felt as if this topic has been disappointingly under-discussed, and I wanted to put any of my pennies into this bucket in hopes of finding those voices. If anyone with real knowledge and lives within these communities happens to read this and finds any of my observations off-base, please inform me in this post’s replies or tumblr asks. I yearn for more analysis on this topic and this character from your voices instead.

Art: @slugg-it-out

Last week... uh, wait 2 weeks ago (shit), I asked this kinda out of nowhere:

“Is Noelle Holiday a masochist?”

My answer? Yes!

… but I want to rephrase the question slightly. Noelle is a minor, so linking her to masochism, even when specifically talking about S&M relationship dynamics and not the physical act of S&M is pretty touchy. 

Instead, let me rephrase it this way:

“What observations can we gather from Noelle’s arc under a masochistic reading?”

I don’t think I have to elaborate that Noelle, at the very least, has masochistic tendencies. All of her wiki pages say it, fan communities make constant jokes about it, and thanks to the voters last week, I know a decent majority also agree.

thanks everybody!

So why the heck am I talking about this like some big deal if this is mostly agreed upon?

I’ve combed across tons of Noelle analysis from psychological profiles, her metatextual relevance to Deltarune, the shipping wars, etc. I’ve scoured quite a bit ever since Ch 2… yes, for that long.

And to speak frankly… I think a lot of fans aren’t willing to take Noelle’s masochism seriously.

Not just in the “oh isn’t it funny that she wants to be stepped on” kinda way (though those memes are still very funny), but sometimes in a “Noelle’s masochism is a character-flaw” sort of way. 

And I have some concerns that I’ll get into later...

(btw, I’m only linking comments that are genuinely in good faith in this post, I’d rather not draw attention to the malicious ones.)

Here’s my piece: I don’t think Noelle is down bad just for the fun of making thirst jokes, I strongly believe that Noelle was explicitly written to be a repressed adolescent exploring her masochistic tendencies. 

Originally, when I finished Chapter 2, I had many thoughts on the Weird Route that I couldn’t quite put into a sensitive reading because I had no concept of masochism as both a real kink and especially not for artistic analysis.

But since those 4 years, I’ve gotten a bit more familiar with queer communities I’ve only started to see more and more things I hadn’t before.

Let’s check out two major introspective moments from Chapter 2 again:

Ferris Wheel dialogue:

Noelle and Kris below the City:

The reasons for where masochism comes from are varied, and I want to be very careful with making any oversimplifications… but man…

Noelle’s background and the specific way she words her introspective thoughts sound remarkably familiar. Let’s go over Noelle’s traits one by one and connect them to common sentiments shared about the appeal of S&M dynamics (not the sexual activity but the more relationships between them) and the psychology of its participants:

"At first, I cried, but now… it’s like… watching them… makes me feel… comforted?" "It’s scary, but I can just turn it off, right? Now it’s mostly… people, that are scary. Haha."

Noelle seeks out extreme stimuli like being scared from horror movies, pranks, and deep diving disturbing video game secrets. Noelle expresses that the reason she loves these situations is because she knows that they aren’t real and that by the end of them, she’ll be ok.

S&M and kink participants create “scenes” in which people act out extreme, specific scenarios not simply to blindly experience pain or intensity, but to willingly engage in a fictitious version of their desires that in real cases would be dangerous to be in.

"I know we never found anything interesting back there… I mostly remember… crying because I was scared." "But for some reason I feel… nostalgic thinking about it... I guess I didn’t mind being scared if it meant… someone would comfort me."

Noelle also associates fear with a source of nostalgic comfort. This stems from long-gone days where she would frequently be scared, then comforted by someone she loves at the end of these experiences.

There are many cases of masochists seeking out scenes that are reminiscent of the punishment they had received in the past. Some even being re-enactments of deeply traumatic experiences, only this time, THEY CHOOSE to relive it with someone compassionate and will stop when they say so. (this is where safe words come from)

"(Sigh. Kris is the only one who knows how weird I am. It's not fair y'know?! Everyone knows how weird YOU are!)

Noelle lives with a lot of self-loathing and powerlessness in an emotionally neglectful household where she needs to hide her feelings and interests from her mother constantly.

Many masochists grew up in religious or puritanical households that forced them to bottle up their feelings. Some of these feelings transform into a sadism that is turned inward as a way to punish themselves for failing the expectations their environment placed on them.

"You’re the… good kind of scary. You aren’t afraid to… break the rules, y’know?" "… I wish I could do crazy stuff like you."

Noelle spends an exhaustive amount of time helping other people, despite the emotional baggage she already holds. In moments of introspection, Noelle tends to beat herself up internally about being incapable of rebelling and seeking adventure on her own.

While researching this topic, I came across a lot of beautifully written comments from people who expressed that masochism was a way to achieve freedom from themselves. By having someone else occupy their thoughts, they were free from their own intrusive thoughts, from controlling their own bodily sensations, and to have to stop worrying about themselves for a fleeting moment. 

While there are situations where Noelle will often confuse her boundaries and let people walk over her, she’s still at her happiest and most fulfilled when assisting people who genuinely appreciate her.

One of the biggest emotional appeals of masochists creating scenes for others, is a pride in serving as a conduit for other people to explore reactions that they weren’t allowed to share with anyone else beforehand.

And I haven’t even mentioned Susie yet!

Noelle fantasizes “scenes” with Susie, even to a degree that when she witnesses Susie’s bullying as an outsider, even to her childhood friend, she wishes she could be the one taking the humiliation instead.

Noelle is into people like Susie for a very specific quality.

A person she considers “the good kind of scary”. Someone who is fiercely independent, who uses intimidation as an act, but comes out as emotional and kind-hearted when simply talked to.

And hell, for the Kriselle or the Krusielle crowd, Noelle seems to find these same qualities in Kris as well.

Art: @Kuroto_Draw

Their entire childhood relationship was based on similar foundations.

Kris used to scare Noelle through play-tearing out their heart, jumpscaring her from under her sheets, and covering themselves in blood like a zombie. A majority of these pranks were done innocently, and if any were to go too far, Kris would apologize or protect her from real danger.

Even if Noelle doesn’t have romantic feelings for Kris, they undeniably played a big role in forming experiences that Noelle now associates with companionship and desire.

Real practices of S&M or sadomasochism aren’t about inflicting/experiencing pain just for the sake of it. The point is to create a consensual relationship with the awareness that they ultimately have control over whatever is done to them.

All parties in an S&M dynamic MUST trust each other to only go as far as they need to.

It’s consent from all parties that makes the relationship legitimate.

This is the most important fact to keep in mind moving forward. Remember this.

If you’ve read up to this point, I imagine (hopefully) this all sounds plenty reasonable… except…

At the cost of undermining everything I typed up beforehand…

Again, it’s tricky to just label Noelle as a masochist and call it a day because she’s a teenager. 

Teenagers are famously incapable of understanding themselves, second-guessing their identities and orientations constantly. It’s still a developmental phase. Noelle is especially more emotionally stunted because her home life thrives on her masking through a jolly smile.

She’s barely had the chance to figure out or commit to her interests, so there’s no way to tell if she’ll still like these things or even still like Susie if they ever get into a serious relationship.

So… I just owned myself, right? Essay over?

Well… I have more evidence, but unfortunately, we’re going to have to get into the weird route. Where, unfortunately, these traits are far more obvious.

While this next part might be a tough read, I implore you to sit through as I think some of the MOST important messages of this reading are attained in this route.

(Content Warning: Topics of real-life abuse and toxic power dynamics.)

To me, the most disturbing aspect of the Weird Route isn’t the mass murder, it being the path to an alternative, darker ending, or even Noelle becoming a second player vessel or whatever.

Instead, it's the raw portrayal of an abusive romantic relationship.

When combined with the reading I’ve been using for Noelle so far…

In an extremely twisted way, the Weird Route acts as a sadomasochistic awakening for Noelle. And by selecting very specific options, the Player conditions her existing tendencies to make her unable to distinguish between consent and abuse.

Let’s look over the details:

While Noelle ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT ENJOY THE PLAYER’S ABUSE OF HER, she seems to increasingly become more and more willing to inflict harm on Darkners with the justification that doing so will make her more independent. All with a frozen smile on her face that only breaks when encountering Berdly.

While sadism and masochism are different in definition, a lot of masochism is defined to be sadism inflicted onto oneself. One reason for masochism I cited earlier is that some people desire pain and punishment because they feel like they deserve it. In this case, I feel as if Noelle is redirecting the sadism inflicted onto herself onto the Cyber City mobs once the Player has convinced her that this is all just a game.

Throughout Ch 2’s Weird Route, Noelle is subject to so much stress that she enters a trance-like state where she surrenders her mind, her memories, and even her physical sensations to our commands. In spite of everything, she interprets her predicament as freeing.

“To some, masochism was a way to achieve freedom from themselves. By having someone else control them, they were free from intrusive thoughts, from controlling their own bodily sensations, and to have to stop worrying about themselves for a fleeting moment.”

While freezing enemies on the way, you need to take Noelle to Spamton’s door, which she excitedly calls creepy… but also nostalgic. It’s very likely she is remembering the times she, Kris, Asriel, and Dess used to explore scary places together.

Again, some masochists seek out scenes that depict traumatic memories as a way of re-living them with a higher degree of control over those events. Noelle says that on each of these adventures, she would usually just cry and run away, but on the Weird Route, SHE is the one literally breaking the rules of the world and deciding the course of events.

Post Snowgrave, Kris returns to her to apologize. Then promises that none of it will happen again and to stay away. Instead, Noelle obsesses over Kris all day, even seeing her crush on Susie, as secondary. When they finally get to talk again, they both start at the end of a long couch, but as the conversation progresses, Noelle tenderly scoots all the way over to lean on Kris… despite them being the physical entity that she had just experienced a day of pain, trauma, and abuse from. 

…

Ok… let me cut off from the disturbing shit for just a second…

…And tangent onto something else I find very kinda disturbing.

Let’s talk about the weird ways anti-Suselle discussion incidentally or even purposely delegitimizes Noelle’s crush BECAUSE of her masochistic fantasies.

Art: @the_weaver

I’m not waging a shipping war here! It’s fine if Suselle isn’t your cup of tea, and strictly writing-related reasons are all valid. But I gotta go over some of the weirder sentiments I’ve run into during the agonizing post-Ch 2 era.

“How can Noelle still be into Susie knowing all the red flags? She even saw Kris get bullied badly and did nothing!” “Noelle barely knows Susie, what if she got into serious trouble by ending up with a rotten person?” “Noelle is unhealthily obsessed with Susie, it’s almost dehumanizing how so much of her attraction is based off of humiliation fantasies.” “Does Noelle even like Susie or just the idea of her?”

Here’s the thing… I actually don’t disagree with these comments in a broad sense.

It’s true that Noelle is already a very defenseless, self-sabotaging person who is seeking out a dangerous girl. A bully whom most of her classmates are terrified of being approached by.

It’s also true that Noelle knows so little about the real Susie that a lot of her expectations are definitely idealized. 

Susie’s bully persona was always a facade to keep other people away. And now that she’s become comfortable, no longer needing to use it… it’s reasonable to wonder if Noelle might have the wrong idea about Susie.

However, I feel like some of these sentiments, even if I’m certain 90% of are just out of goodwill and protectiveness for Noelle’s sake. The Deltarune community is dominated with queer support and I don’t mean to imply the community or these comments are bigoted.

However, I think a lack of sensitivity in addressing masochistic personality traits comes dangerously close to invalidating Noelle’s autonomy in a similar way to how femmes who participate in kink and identify with submission are often policed online.

Because of the misguided notions that masochists just LOVE pain and abuse for the sake of it, people are immediately discomforted whenever they hear of people engaging in S&M dynamics. Leading to shit like this:

“This is why bullies and abusers feel comfortable in their spaces.” “Victims are enabling these situations to occur more” “These helpless girls are going to end trapped in an abusive relationship or even dead” “Bad actors love that you let them take advantage of you” “Masochism is a mental illness, you need serious therapy”

Trust me, I relate heavily to being worried for other people and not wanting anyone to get seriously hurt… but these comments exist as a microcosm of people who are unwilling to see kinks and S&M as a valid experience.

The more comfortable people get invalidating masochism as an illness, the easier it is to distance yourself from them through jokes and shame.

And the real sad thing is: It’s easy to ignore victim blaming done by incoherent misogynists… but it’s polarizing to address victim blaming performed by overprotective online policing.

Oftentimes, hate speech and concern can seem indistinguishable.

…I’ve been struggling to write this part of the analysis for quite a while because one of the most upsetting realizations I made was that the Weird Route could be interpreted as fuel for victim blaming directed towards masochists and submissive femmes. 

After all, why should people like Noelle be trusted with her freedom when we have palpable proof that she will fail to assert herself when real danger shows up?

The fine line I’ve been trying to balance is that Noelle IS mentally unwell. Noelle’s masochistic tendencies ARE rooted from trauma.

And in a way, Queen and Rudy DO have a point that Noelle is deeply vulnerable to outside forces and needs watchful protection.

But I’ll repeat again, S&M is NOT a willing acceptance of violence and abuse. Legitimate S&M dynamics are found on consent!

The Weird Route is a cautionary tale on relationships that form when consent isn’t part of the equation.

Noelle becomes trapped into this abusive relationship NOT because of her masochistic tendencies, but because she has NEVER been able to explore a romantic relationship or her tendencies and hasn’t properly established her boundaries.

The moment Kris (the Player) returns to their commanding voice and physically endangers her, her longing for Kris is GONE.

I’m certain that Toby knew and predicted potential bad faith readings that could’ve been applied to Noelle’s behavior on this route. Which is why Noelle’s background is so absurdly detailed and specific.

Let’s go over the REAL necessary context that led to this:

Noelle lives in an unchanging, puritanical household trapped eternally in Christmas. Enforced by a very collectivist, matriarchal family dynamic that, as the next woman of the family, she must live up to. 

It’s almost to a comical degree with Carol preserving artifacts of the traumatic Dremurr/Holiday split scattered all over the house to remind her every day of what they’ve lost.

Carol is not just a strict mother but also the Mayor of Hometown.

She’s extremely neglectful of Noelle and is told to be “hard on her” whenever she’s around.

Despite being a valedictorian, a pillar of her community, giving gifts to her, and staying put, Carol never seems to show any open appreciation for her. To her, the success and safety of her daughter is more important than a loving relationship.

Perhaps to avoid ever having to relive what happened with Dess...

Noelle just seems scared of her. She won’t argue back or complain even when she is locked out of her house for hours. And throughout all her life, she’s had to hide her interests and relationships from her.

Rudy is at most a mediator of these domestic issues, but doesn’t fix them.

He even neglects serious matters by hiding behind smiles and jokes. And a lot of her inability to admit her emotions could be inspired by her father.

Noelle is also living with some PTSD or even guilt over her sister’s disappearance. Kris, Dess, and Asriel have vanished from her lives one way or another, and with Rudy bedridden, she’s running out of people to love.

Is it any surprise that Noelle, once The Player promises her some liberation, wearing the skin of a person she yearns to connect with again, and who also happens to know the ins and outs of Noelle’s psychology, easily folds to them?

The Weird Route is the consequence of restrictive parenting, emotional neglect, and most of all, invalidation. 

This is why talking about this is so important. And it’s why I’ve spent this ungodly amount of time researching this just to talk about a pixelated deer girl.

I didn't write this. But it is facts.

Even if I’m just completely bananas on Noelle’s tendencies being a serious plot point, and even if it’s kind of ridiculous to diagnose fictional characters that we literally cannot question or talk properly to…

Fandoms read personality traits onto characters based both on their writing AND vibes. I mean look at the trans Noelle debate that popped up a few years back.

Brainrot Artistic analysis isn’t about scientifically dissecting the exact psychoanalysis bucket we can put a fictional character into, but the RELATABILITY of the struggles of fictional characters, where we can base entire readings off of.

If we can find valuable connections and lessons in fictional characters, even if we just hallucinated those intentions, those conversations can help us connect to ourselves and other people.

If even someone who only has a broad understanding of masochism can somehow see Noelle as a masochist, even if Toby never intended this (even though I think he did), it is still a valid reading.

And if I’m allowed to be slightly more inflammatory, popular characters like Noelle from a massively popular game, consequentially often have their less relatable qualities erased from discussion and headcanons. I’ve seen it time and time again with degrees of insensitivity.

It’s been done with Noelle, and you’ve definitely seen it with Kris.

46 citations! You didn't want to leave them a chance, huh?!! Did you feel anger? Hate? They were bleeding, begging for you to get out of their body. But you misgendered them! Again and again!

People should be allowed to explore their sexuality and seek relationships that they can grow from. That’s how a person finds their threshold for consent in the first place.

And just because Noelle has a weird, fetishistic love for someone, doesn’t mean it’s not real or worth delving into or questioning herself.

But here’s what I hope I’m trying to get across here is that, and hopefully for the FINAL time:

IT’S ALL ABOUT CONSENT!!! Consent is the difference between valid romantic experiences vs straight-up abuse.

That’s how marginalized people and people who have felt invalid their entire life FIND their communities. Through LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of trial and error!

Maybe the relationship will shatter. Maybe these desires will be preyed on by an abuser. And for Noelle’s case, maybe by seeking this danger, she’ll experience another traumatic experience and shatter her already broken conscience further.

But here’s the thing. 

How often does Noelle ever show confidence about what she feels? How often does she act on anything for her own sake? 

If Noelle’s desires can be exploited, doesn’t the blame fall on the exploiter and not the person who had the right to seek them out?

And lo and behold, Susie’s actually pretty chill after all! 

And by Chapter 4, I think you’d be delusional to still assume Susie doesn’t reciprocate some feelings back.

She gets so distracted by finding out if Suselle is canon that Kris can go down a large hallway, undergo an entire art therapy session, and eat that sweet sweet moss without her noticing.

Knowing how little Noelle ever allows herself to express her own interests, I think it’s actually healthier to just let her find out herself and see what truly makes her happy.

And let’s be perfectly honest - teenage relationships almost never hold up anyways. Suselle, Kriselle, …….Berdelle? It doesn't matter.

Regardless of who she ends up with at the end of Deltarune, it’s not guaranteed to be positive or even last… but the learning experience absolutely will. 

AKA: Don’t be a Carol.

PS. Holy [$?%!] this took way too goddamn long.

Everything I’ve said here is honestly very surface-level and more a result of my distant fascination for all sorts of people across marginalized spaces. 

I don’t know these people well enough to truly connect to them, but the best I’d like to offer is to explain why they are so interesting. At the very least, this character gave me a great excuse to delve into this topic further.

But for now, I need to give irl serious topics like this a break, I’ll be back to more fun posts until then.

[starlightz4mj]

It’s Our Anniversary

Summary: Michael, once again, fails to show up for an important event you had plans for–this time, your anniversary. Tangled in a web of uncertainty, disappointment, and intoxication, how will his untimely arrival unravel the suppressed feelings and unspoken words you’ve both kept hidden?

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Era: Bad

Setting: Encino, California. Spring of 1987.

Category: angst, fluff, smut, oral (f! receiving), sexual intercourse (p in v) 

Word Count: 10,472

Note: For plot's sake, you'll have to pretend that the Havenhurst house wasn’t inhabited by the whole Jackson clan. Sorry if there’s any grammatical errors, btw. Also, I was listening to Anniversary by Tony! Toni! Toné! when the idea for this popped up, hence the title. I think using songs for my imagines might be a recurring feature. Anyway, enjoy! R.I.P. to D’Wayne Wiggins <3

Do you know what today is?

It's our anniversary

Made for you and me

Appareled in a Prussian Blue Valentino gown, you sit in the lavish dining room of the Havenhurst home designed with warm, Victorian elements. The intricately paneled walls display expensive oil canvases from the Romanticism and Renaissance periods. It was your boyfriend’s taste, not yours in particular, but still a stunning sight to take in. A pair of French antique chandeliers, adorned with crystals and bronze candlesticks, dimly light the space—accompanied by the silky notes of Jazz Noir drifting from a record player—blending together to set a mood of intimacy and relaxation.

Yet, as your dolled-up reflection looks back at you in discontent through the polished wood of the mahogany table, you are anything but relaxed. The loud dong of the grandfather clock adjacent to your right tolls aggravatingly for a third time, marking the three hours ago that Michael was supposed to be here. Unsurprisingly to you by now, he is not. That doesn't make the ache of disappointment any less painful.

For nearly the last year of the two you have been a couple, Michael’s packed schedule has been a constant interference to the increasingly rare occasions you spend with each other. Around when you had met him, he had concluded his activities for the Victory Tour, taking on less strenuous pursuits in his career after the success of Thriller. There were the infrequent appearances or interviews here and there, but overall, it was the least busy he had been for most of his life. And in that time, he and you had plenty of it to build a connection.

Being an attorney and starting out on a semi-business basis, you assisted in some of the proceedings he and your colleague took in purchasing the ATV Music Catalogue. There were a few times they came to you for advice on matters of intellectual property, that aspect of law being your area of expertise. Yet, unusually, despite Michael hiring nothing but the best for his legal selection, he hadn’t given any indication that he wanted to have a fiduciary relationship with you, even though you were the top IP lawyer at your firm. Your initial reaction was to be offended. After all the guidance he seeked, what could he possibly have against hiring you? 

“Well, Mr. Jackson, I don’t quite understand why you’d request my help, but decide to not appoint me to a position on your team. Is there some reason you think I’m unqualified for the job?” Voicing your potentially out-of-line assumption, you still maintain a courteous tone, even though your pride was slightly wounded. However, he simply lets out a giggle at the question.

“It’s the opposite, actually. I’d love for you to be a part of my team, but… it would conflict with another interest I have.” His aviator-shielded eyes cast downward toward the ground as he smiled coyly.

“And what might that be?” Your arms folded across your chest as your intrigue was piqued by the ambiguous statement, waiting for him to provide clarity.

“Taking you out to dinner on Saturday night. If you're up for it, of course.”

Your face donned with pleasant surprise as his words registered—a bold approach to make with such a shy demeanour. Though you wouldn’t say it aloud due to professional conduct, you had been an admirer of him since you were a girl in pigtails, starstruck by his strong voice and cherubic charm during that monumental premiere of The Jackson 5 on American Bandstand. 

Having a celebrity crush as a youth was nothing uncommon, but actually being presented with the opportunity to pursue a romantic gesture from them as an adult was inconceivable. The part of you that subdued the adolescent fancy you held for him felt as if it had been sparked again.

And with indignation replaced by delight, previous aggrievance long forgotten, you happily accepted his offer. From that point on, you and Michael went on numerous dates. You remember the more intimate ones—taking walks at night on the beach in Malibu or going to high-end establishments, such as opera houses and fine dining restaurants. The fun ones like going to the movie theater or to arcades in whatever crazy disguise he threw together. Most of them made you erupt into fits of laughter. 

You always voiced the theory that the zany costumes were more of an attention grabber than if people actually saw him in his normal attire, to which he proved otherwise. Long story short, on one of your many visits to Disneyland, you both, along with the Mickey Mouse mascot you were being photographed with, were swarmed by a herd of hysterical fans in the blink of an eye. You’re still not even sure how the limousine managed to get through the crowd as his security guards threw all three of you into the backseat. 

“Holy fucking shit! What the hell is going on?!” The heavily muffled shout of the man beneath the cartoonish mouse head would have been comical, if not for the overly excited group enveloping the vehicle, packed in close and trying to get a glimpse at the King of Pop. You yourself were staggered at the mob and attempting to calm your jittery disposition. All the while, you looked over to find Michael simply smiling and greeting the rowdy bunch, as if this were an average day for him.

Realizing that it was just that, you acknowledged the grace and composer he held himself with as an extremely admirable trait. You couldn’t fathom handling this lack of privacy and fanaticism since childhood. It was moments like this that made it click for you that being Michael Jackson, the popstar, came at a great price. To the world, he was this magical entity to marvel at—a wizard of entertainment. Before, due to the lack of familiar proximity, you used to hold that same image of him to some extent. But now, he was just Michael to you.

Michael, who had an affinity for Peter Pan and old Hollywood and Tchiakovsky. He always approached learning opportunities with eager curiosity, whether it was the sudden interest he’d taken in anatomy in recent months, or his humility in seeking mentorship from those he collaborated with in the industry, despite being a master himself. Michael, who was susceptible to internal struggles like anyone else and oftentimes wore himself down with his own expectations, but only because he believed in himself so fiercely. Michael, who was a beautiful fusion of contrasting energies—childlike spirit and wise, old soul, both wrapped in one. And the more of him you got to experience personally, the more profound and loving your relationship blossomed.

It carried on like this for a while, leisure time filled with frequent rendezvous, until his life started to pick up pace again. With the many filming projects he starred in, paired with countless hours of recording for his upcoming album, the days where you hardly saw him were steadily growing. You were able to distract yourself from his absence by getting lost in your own taxing work of large files riddled with dense jargon. Still, that only served as a temporary solution. 

“I miss you, Michael. We never see eachother anymore.” You utter into the phone while absentmindedly twirling the coil cord around your finger. You were bundled up in Michael’s bed, relaxing on your day off. But for him, he was busy in the studio, perfecting his sound for this new era of artistry. 

An exhaustion-filled sigh is let out into the receiver. “I know. I miss you too. I keep running into all these problems with the tracks. And Quincy-–he wants to go in a completely different direction with the sound than I do. It’s like, I can’t get anything worked out right today… Maybe I should just drop all of this and come home to you.” 

“Well, as much as I’d love that, I wouldn’t let you do it. I know how much this album means to you, to your fans… I want you to give it your all. You’ll get where you need to be. I know it. Just keep trying.”

He’s deeply appreciative of your encouraging words, grateful to have someone so supportive in his corner, even though he’s aware his hectic schedule no doubt takes a toll on you as well. “Yeah… I guess you're right. But still, I wish we had as much time together like we used to.” 

You think for a moment. “Well, how about we try our best to set some time aside out of the holidays for ourselves?” The suggestion was favorable enough, given the circumstances. And although there was some lingering resistance to practices outside of his past religion, such as festivities, he had opened himself generously to trying new things with you—some, more willingly than others…

So, that was the arrangement you both agreed upon. For a brief period, while still new, it was upheld fairly well-–until it wasn’t. The more activities Michael started to be bombarded with, the less he was able to keep his end of the agreement, and many of the days you had reserved for yourselves were cut into or entirely canceled by his heightened workload. But each time, you were understanding.

Like when he missed Valentine’s Day due to a conference he had for a potential brand deal with a fragrance line, which, by the way, ended up falling through, leaving the meeting pointless. Or when he got held back to reshoot some scenes for the Captain EO short film on your birthday, even though he was supposed to wrap up earlier to celebrate with you.

He would always return home with a peace offering, profusely apologizing for not being able to make it. And taking into account the extent of relentless demands in his career, it felt juvenile to be upset. So, you never truly expressed how much it bothered you, keeping it inside in favor of savouring the few moments you did have with each other. 

However, tonight is a different case. It’s your anniversary. And with each of the many reminders you gave over the last few weeks, he promised that no matter what, he would make it here by eight this evening. Instead, you found yourself alone, staring into the porcelain plate of chicken piccata you prepared, which has gone cold by now, with the hands of the clock moving farther and farther away from that designated time. As the minutes dragged on into hours, there wasn’t a single call sent as a courtesy to explain his nonappearance.

For him to not only be a complete no-show but also fail to at least leave you with prior warning—you were nothing less than seething at this point. The fretful bounce of your stilettoed foot carries on as you take a large swig of Chardonnay to ease the perturbance, waiting for the telltale sound of loafers padding down the marbled floors of the corridor. 

Meanwhile, the fluorescent lights of Los Angeles pass by in a blur as Michael heavily steps down on the accelerator of his Mercedes-Benz. Rush hour has long since been over, leaving the roads relatively uncrowded, thankfully making his race home quicker than usual. As the traffic light turns red, wheels halting in place, his right hand rummages around in his pocket to pull out a velvet box. How could I have forgotten? He inspects the small item, twirling it around with his fingers. 

What happened today was nothing short of chaos. Yet again, he and Quincy spent what felt like forever clashing over creative differences. Quincy, favoring the music production, wanted Al Capone to be on the album. Michael, on the other hand, preferred Smooth Criminal. Although both had the same thematic origins, with this song, he had a clearer, conceptualized idea of how it would look and feel in a movie short—the 1920s speakeasy scene, gangster suits and some influences of jazz in the dance style. After much discussion and weighing the pros and cons, Michael's decision ultimately prevailed.

The real trouble began when they actually started recording. From too much echo and reverberation polluting the sound of the tracks to Michael’s vocals not landing where they needed to, he found himself stuck in a continuous loop of scrapping various sections of his work just to start all over again. The constant mishaps couldn’t easily be pinpointed to one thing.

The stress of the ever-nearing approach of deadlines for this album, from music videos to preparations for the upcoming tour. Fatigue from rehearsal-filled days and sudden bursts of inspiration at night—lyrics, harmonies, choreography—that left him sleep-deprived. Or the nervousness from the much more immediate cause that, somehow, amidst all the madness, had completely slipped his mind.

As he returned to the sound booth from a restroom break, fully intending to keep recording until he felt the song he’d been working on was perfected, his eyes caught the red numbers on the digital clock hanging above the entrance—10:39 PM. Panic set in as the realization dawned on him: he was supposed to be home three hours ago for his anniversary. And though being so late to this very important event that you both had greatly anticipated did nothing to ease his anxiety, it was not the primary reason for it.

Michael had planned to turn this celebration of two years together into something even grander—a marriage proposal, but the potentially disastrous outcomes he had conjured up loomed over him like a dark cloud for weeks. As result, this entire studio session ended up in no meaningful progress, and astonishingly, he’d forgotten the one thing he promised he wouldn’t. Quickly pivoting on his foot, he scrambled towards the rack where his leather jacket hung, clumsily throwing it on.

“Smelly, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” The quizzical tone of Quincy’s voice doesn’t falter his rushed escape out of the room.

“I’m sorry, but I really gotta go! I’ll explain it tomorrow!” He hastily offers to wrap up their session before rushing towards the elevator. After impatiently waiting for the platform to ascend and dashing in upon its arrival, he soon reaches the first floor of the main lobby, booking it towards the exit of revolving doors. 

His attention is snapped from the burgundy colored cube in his hand as out of his peripheral, the stoplight turns green, putting the vehicle back in motion. As he carries on with his journey of about ten minutes left until he reaches home, his mind wanders back to the day you first met.

“There’s some parts of this document that are vague. You think you could come over and take a look?” John, Michael’s entertainment lawyer, had just had a brief exchange over the phone with someone moments ago before three loud knocks were heard at the closed door of his workspace. When it opened, in pranced a stunning woman, clad in a form-fitting red skirt suit, instantly drawing in Michael’s intrigue.

“Good afternoon. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson,” you chime in a genial tone, approaching with a beaming smile and extended hand, which he enveloped gently to shake—a fluttering giddiness erupts at the touch. As the two attorneys began to delve into the content of the forms, their words hardly registered to Michael. He was too focused on the concentrated gaze with which you scanned the documents, the shape of your rouged lips curving over vowels.

His eyes wandered to your accentuated curves as you leaned over the desk to examine the papers—voluptuous and alluring. And as you closed your revision of the material with an ‘I’m here if you need anything else,’ he couldn’t stop himself from watching the sway of your hips as you made a swift exit from the room.

You frequented over the next week, offering advice and providing context when needed. Sometimes, he would feign confusion with some parts of the text just so you could stay a little longer. Realizing that this was not the most practical way to prolong your being, nor considerate of your actual work duties, Michael finally decided to voice an inquiry.

“Hey, John, what’s your policy on dating clients?” The brunette man sipping on a latte pauses mid-drink with a puzzled look before lowering the mug.

“I’m flattered, but I don’t go that way.” 

“Not you, silly. I’m talking about her.” Michael waves in the direction of your office, lightly chuckling at John’s humorous remark. “Lawyers and clients aren’t allowed to be romantically involved, right?” He had done some research of his own about the situation, but wanted further confirmation just to be sure.

“Correct. But technically, you aren't an official client of hers, so you could still go for it.” And with that answer, he was asking you out later that very same day. 

Michael had been relatively green to the world of dating by the time you two had met. The seldom flings he had with women, kept under the radar, never developed into anything serious. With the way most of them soured, he wasn’t exactly sure that he would ever find what he was looking for. He often encountered people who were more enamored with his status and what luxuries it could offer than with him.

And though he was more than happy to shower his lady companions with anything they desired, he mostly did so out of the fear of being alone rather than the rapture of being in love, yearning to experience the joys of having a significant other. But little did he know, a certain lively attorney would be the end to his string of unfulfilling situationships.

Of course, he hadn’t initially come in with much expectation that the dynamic between you would deviate from the usual—gifts and opulence in exchange for company. Yet, surprisingly, when he did make such gestures, there was often protest and reluctance from you to accept them. You let it be known that while you were appreciative, he should never feel as if your affection needed to be bought, emphasising that just being together was enough.

And in the time he’s got to share with you, you’d become both his best friend and the light of his life. Mirroring his childlike tendencies, you enjoyed the likes of practical jokes, whimsical films, amusement parks. You both gave each other an equal dose of mischief and excitement—a temporary escape from the pressures of adult life.

On the other hand, the womanly side of you was self-assured and sophisticated. Despite the stipulations that came with his public persona, you weren’t one to crease under the weight. With poise and level-headedness, you managed to navigate both the harsh anatomization and glitzy display of his idol life. And though the expectations and prying scrutiny were unrelenting, your devotion to him never faltered.

As the demands of the day faded and it was just the two of you, your tenderness was given space to flourish in the sacred confines of one another. In the sentimental conversations you found yourselves getting lost in late into the night—confidences, dreams, worries—you had become a part of him he didn’t know he needed.

You possessed the ability to truly see and understand him, even when he tried to mask the parts of himself he feared would make you grow tired and flee. The solitude of his stardom, the sadness from past traumas, which he had believed for so long was impossible to escape, were eased away by the comfort of your unwavering presence and acceptance.

While these gloomy moods burdened Michael at times, he still held a great love and optimism about life. When it came to his craft, he was fiercely passionate and hopeful about all the possibilities he envisioned for himself, even when others thought he may have been overachieving or setting his expectations too high.

But you never doubted or dissuaded him from his aspirations. You were his biggest supporter. Always uplifting, always giving your undivided attention to his enthusiastic ideas about the next big thing he was going to do, eager to get a glimpse into the innovative makings of his mind. And when the work was tiring, your love and support motivated him to keep going.

As your endearments were reified through these saccharine partakings, he was certain that he wanted forever with you. He found refuge in your affections, your embrace—your peace sheltered him from the harsher aspects of his success and internal pains that, at times, would well up so much he thought he could drown. When he felt as if he would lose himself to those turbulent waters, you were the gentle wave beckoning him back to shore.

And in all these things, his resolution to ask for your hand in marriage was absolute. However, there was an additional reason why he decided an engagement was fitting—to convey that his adoration had not been swayed or dulled for you. He was aware that the requirements of his work agendas held great potential to cause a rift in your relationship. 

Consequently, he flipped between confidence that your feelings for him were so strong that you couldn't possibly reject him, to doubts clawing from the darkest corners of his mind, trying to convince him that his fame, his tireless routine, and himself, were still too much for you. As the in-house security guard granted him access through the ornamental gates of his estate, he began to feel that unease bubbling to the surface again.

Easing down the herringbone pavement leading to the main entrance of the house, he sees your car in its usual parking spot and places his directly behind it. With a sturdy twist of the metal key in the ignition, the rumble of the engine dies down, leaving him to collect himself in the still silence.

He gets out of the car, taking calculated steps as he approaches the double doors of the entry, apprehension swirling around him as he suspects that his untimely arrival will not go over well with you. His ears catch the faint rise and fall of music as he steps inside, quietly sealing the door shut. Slowly carrying on down the hallway, timidly walking past the threshold of the dining room, he is greeted by the upward flick of your gaze over the rim of a glass of wine—cold and distant. Without breaking eye contact, you chug the last remnants of the intoxicating potion before firmly setting the glass down.

“Happy anniversary. Glad you could join me.” Between your sarcastic remark and the displeased expression, he’s wary that he might not be able to recover easily from this one tonight.

“Baby, please don’t be like that. I’m really sorry. I ran into some trouble at the studio and lost track of time.” He offers his regret as he takes in the elegant layout you put effort into, left abandoned by his lack of show for the event. A twinge of guilt twists inside him.

“Save it. I’m really not in the mood to hear any excuses. You swore you’d make it, and you didn’t. Again. Simple as that,” you mutter with contempt as you move to grab the plates of untouched food, your heels clicking briskly as you make your way towards the kitchen.

From the wine you had been downing these past hours, to finally hitting a breaking point from the repeated absences from Michael, you let your frustrations flow freely for the first time. He’s taken aback by the bluntness of it, and although his contrition is strong, he feels a growing urge to defend himself as he trails behind you.

"Yes, I know I promised, and I wanted to be here with you today more than anything. But with everything I’ve had to do to get this album ready, I have a lot on my plate. I don’t think you’re being fair to me. It's not like I did this on purpose.”

His response only irks you more as you scrape the wasted meal into the trash bin. From his attempt to justify his actions to the fruits of your labor being overlooked, your tip-toe around full on confrontation has come to an end. With a heavy toss of the plates into the sink, not caring if they broke from the force, you sharply turned around, vitriol, tinted with liquid courage, pouring from your lips.

“No, what’s not fair is for you to leave me sitting here like a damn fool for three hours, and on top of that, not even call me to let me know where the hell you are!” 

Michael has never heard you yell like this before. In fact, during this whole two-year relationship, you’ve never once had a serious argument. Small disagreements that were resolved so fast you both hardly remembered what you were upset over? Yes. But full-blown, furious disputes had never found their way between you. However, there’s a first time for everything. 

"Look, honestly, it just slipped my mind, okay?! You have no idea how bad my day has been. Can’t you just hear me out? I don’t know why you’re giving me such a hard time all of a sudden.”

He finds himself gradually raising his volume as well. Despite his plea, his fortified reflex drives his actions, clouding the more rational approach of trying to wind down this heated energy between you instead of fanning its flames. And you’re ready to throw back just as much fire.

“Because I’m fed up with you not being here! I have been for a while now. And I’m busy too, Michael. My job is high maintenance, but I still show up for us. It feels like you're not even trying to do that!” 

Deep down, you knew that wasn't a fair or honest stance to take. Yes, you put in many more hours than most, plus the mental muscle necessary for your job was hefty. But Michael’s career required even more of him to succeed. Truthfully, you just wanted him to feel the same hurt you were feeling. And as the anger in his gaze momentarily wavers into something dejected, you were certain it worked.

“I am trying! If I wasn’t, I’d still be working instead of standing here right now.” There’s a slight quiver in his exasperation as he feels his worst suspicions coming true—he had let you in, and finally, it had become too much for you to bear.

“Well, what do you expect me to make of it, huh?! I’ve been very lenient all the times you’ve failed to show up—a full year, Michael. And now, this one time I desperately ask you to be here, you can't even do it!” You exclaim as you feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill. Somehow, you are able to uphold an unshaken demeanor of hostility.

You don’t know exactly where this shouting match is taking you, but you weren’t betting on the cruel grin that takes over Michael’s face as he lets out a bitter cackle. Though, it’s quickly replaced by a scowl that shoots daggers through you. 

“Right. So, I’m just a terrible boyfriend who always forgets about you? When we got together, you knew how demanding my life was. I can’t change that. And you said you understood, but it doesn’t seem like that anymore. If it’s not something you can handle, what are you still here for?!”

There's an uncomfortable silence that settles in the air before the unmistakable sound of a sniffle breaks it. He immediately wishes he could take his words back as he watches the tears brimming your eyes begin to trickle down your face.

“You know what?! Fine! Maybe I’ll leave then!” Your voice cracks as you exit the kitchen with a hurried stride, heading toward your shared bedroom—more accurately, your shared suite—to retrieve what you’ll need for your departure.

Hot on your tail, he’s following you up the path winding stairs, shame and dread brewing in his conscience as he takes your declaration as an act of permanence. Contrarily, you were just heading back to your apartment in the city for a while to cool off. He feels foolish for ruining the evening and the proposal he had planned, sullied by his own vexations and rash need to have the last word. And the thought of this possibly being the end of your relationship has sent him spiraling.

“Wait, that’s—that’s not what I meant.” A desperate attempt at an explanation to backtrack your decision comes tumbling from his mouth, but you are done listening as you barge through the door, determined to get away from him.

“Well you certainly said it, so you must have meant it.” Your vacant tone pulls at his heart, knowing that you’re shutting him out now. Still, with an earnest plea as he watches you shuffle around inside the dresser trying to locate something, he attempts to get through to you.

“No, I just—can you stop and listen to me for a second?!” He soon finds out what you were looking for—the silver glare of your car keys dangles from your manicured fingers. No, no, no. This is not how the night was supposed to go. 

“I’ve already heard enough from you.” Your assertion leaves no space for bargaining as you turn to exit the bedroom, but Michael is towering over you with brooding eyes before you can take another step. Swiftly, he yanks the keys right out of your hand.

“You’re not leaving me.” He can’t lose you. Not like this. With firm conviction, he is hell-bent on not letting you set foot outside of this room. Aggravated by his antics, you try to grab the keys, but he just moves them farther from your reach. Like a childish game, he extends his arm higher and higher away from you as you stand on your tiptoes, pressed flush against him and struggling to retrieve the metal object.

“Michael, give me my keys back! Now!” You exclaim with heightened annoyance, slightly stumbling over your feet as he roughly pulls away from you, walking towards the glass doors of the balcony. He wouldn’t dare…

“I said you’re not leaving, dammit!” You watch, mortified, as he twists the golden handle to open the door before tossing the keys two stories down to get lost in the flower bed beneath, not even bothering to close it before he turns back around. Both breathing heavily from the exertion of your previous scuffle, you exchange a hard stare down from a distance.

“What…THE FUCK is your problem?!” You shriek incredulously as he just stands there, glowering and not saying a word. Shaking your head in disbelief, you once again move to exit the suite—this time, to search for your keys—but startlingly, Michael makes fast strides in your direction. Before you can register what’s happening, he seizes your wrists tightly, pushing you until your back is pressed to the mural-painted surface of the wall.

Both puzzled and shaken by the impact of it, you’re ready to protest this strange action, but are quickly interrupted as the sudden crash of his lips to yours cuts you off. Wide-eyed with surprise and unable to break free from his vice-like grip, the vigorous motions of his mouth forces yours to do the same.

As your eyelids reluctantly start to flutter shut, getting lost in the sensation, Michael abruptly tears from the kiss before you fully cave in. Curiously, you watch as he walks over to the bedroom door and shuts it—the snap of the lock setting in place rings through the hushed space.

His eyes are darkened with a new aura as he prowls back toward you—something fervent and burning. Suspense looms over you once he fully approaches, simply standing with his intense gaze sauntering over your flustered form. Clearly consumed by his thoughts, his close inspection leaves you wondering what’s about to happen. That uncertainty is shattered by a low command that has heat stirring inside of you.

“Take your panties off.”

“Are you seriously trying to-” stunned at the vulgar statement, you start to question him, but are silenced by the sharp slap of his hand on your behind.

“Do it right now. Don’t make me repeat myself.” The gruff command leaves no room for debate as he moves back, giving you just enough space to maneuver out of them. Though it takes you a moment to adjust from the initial shock of his harsh touch, you timidly do as he says.

The lacey undergarment slides down your legs with ease, briefly snagging on the rhinestone accents of your blue heels before laying crumpled on the floor. Slightly kicking them out of the way, you watch with anticipation as Michael hastily unzips his leather jacket, casting it aside without concern for where it landed.

He pounces back on you, meshing your lips together with fluid, eager movements that make your heart race. With just as much longing, your fingers tangle into the loose locks of his hair as your tongues become entwined through desperate pants into each other’s mouths. His usual note of cinnamon, warm and sweet, dances on your taste buds, drawing you in more. With excitement heightened by this carnal entanglement, you can feel the slickness of it starting to build in your nether regions.

His kisses trace downward to the unblemished expanse of your neck where he begins to etch dark bruises, causing soft whimpers to fall from your lips. At the same time, his hands deftly shift the sparkly fabric of your dress up higher until the skirt crumples around your waist.

“Hold this up for me.” He whispers softly, pulling away from the marks he’s painted into your skin—a canvas stained with burning desire. Obediently, your hands clumsily bunch up the coarse, lurex material as your core aches with need and expectation.

Once he’s sure your grip is secure, he impatiently falls to his knees, draping your right leg over his shoulder and grabbing hold of your hip to keep you steady. You gasp as his mouth now sears welts into your thigh, sucking and biting at the flesh with urgency as he inches closer and closer to where you crave him most.

His breath fans hotly over you wet folds before you feel him take a broad, firm lick over the surface. He prods farther, parting your lips to swipe directly at your slit, languidly moving his tongue up and down to collect your honeyed nectar. Carrying on like this for a while, muscle deliberately stroking along the strip of your womanhood, the erotic mixture of his saliva and your arousal making the movements smoother, he soon hones his attention onto your throbbing pearl.

Your breath deepens as he flicks and circles it at a steady pace, only using the tip of his tongue for the assault. And while the feeling is wonderful, it doesn’t do enough to soothe the pain deep within you. With hips canting upward, you try to get more of him, but he pulls back to deliver another hard smack to your backside. With a yelp, you jolt at the sting, looking down at him with longing and frustration.

“You’re only getting what I decide to give you. Understand?” He questions with blown out eyes. You’re both intimidated and thrilled by the wild intensity in them. You nod your head stiffly, swallowing to alleviate the dryness in your throat, but you take that’s not the response he was looking for as he slaps your behind again, much more powerful than the last. With eyes clenched, you grit your teeth from the lingering bite of it.

“I wanna hear you say it.” His stern declaration sizzles in the space between you, thick with tension, waiting for you to give a proper answer. Slightly quivering at the weighted feel of the atmosphere, you utter with avid compliance;

“Yes, I understand.” Although quiet, it is satisfactory enough for Michael as he delves back into your warmth, resuming his manipulations. The pressure continues to leave you just teetering on the precipice of what you seek. You have to concentrate to restrain yourself from moving your hips again. Sensing your struggle to hold back, the rigidity in your limbs is obvious as you now release more constrained breaths, he fully envelops your bud into his mouth in an act of mercy.

As he builds the intensity of his motions with harder laps of his tongue and the harsher suction of his lips, he is practically making out with the drenched bundle of nerves. Finally getting what you yearned for, wanton moans climb from your throat freely as your body begins to slacken against the wall, swept away in this pleasant feeling.

Your soft, pleasured utterances fall upon Michael’s ears like a sweet symphony—high and melodious. His length is straining in the tight confinement of his pants, begging to be freed as the sugared and earthy scent and taste of your sex fills his senses.

With eyes peering up, he hungrily takes in the state of your form: the rapid rise and fall of your chest with each inhale you take, eyes shut, furrowed brows and mouth agape in blissed-out desire. The elegant bun your hair was neatly pulled back into has somehow come undone in the midst of this interaction, now flowing over your shoulders. God, you’re so beautiful like this. The salacious sight sets him ablaze, making him more zealous in having you fall apart for him.

The plush skin of your thighs curve over his fingers, grip squeezing firmer and opening you more as the fluctuations of his mouth become more vigorous, devouring you until he’s drooling on your sopped and weeping petals. In embarrassment and sweltering lust, heat rises to your cheeks at the slick and tacky sounds of his mouth passionately unwinding you.

The ravenous motions of his tongue against your clit causes your walls to deeply throb, sending a new wave of your essence to mix with the messy concoction between your legs. As Michael can feel the dribble of it streaming down his chin, he moves his thumb to continue the work on your button while shifting his head to take greedy laps at the dripping source, reveling in the taste of you.

As his tongue swirls and plunges deeper inside of you, he comes to the delightful realization that he would die happily here—face basking in the warm paradise of your love, drinking down the sweet waters of your orchid. Getting lost in these elysian pleasures through tender ministrations and fervid caresses.

“Michael, I’m so close!” You wail through needy cries as you feel the muscles in your pelvis beginning to be pulled taut. There’s hot pressure growing in your lower belly with the wish for release. The fibrous cloth of your dress itches your skin as your clammy hands struggle to hold it up, trembling as you can feel the force in you, building unbearably.

Michael groans enthusiastically into your core at the gratifying revelation, gripping your hips even tighter, intent on making you come undone on his tongue. The rumble of it vibrates deliciously against your lady bits, bringing you even closer to your peak when instantly, his mouth is surrounding your whole mound with loud, eager slurps, loosening his jaw to take more of you in.

And as he hotly consumes your sensitive parts, you’re finally granted that explosive release you’ve been waiting for. Uncontrollably, ardent moans tumble over your lips as the tension in your walls spasms without reserve, sending bright tingles of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body.

Michael drinks your pleasured sounds and the sap of your orgasm with elation as he can feel his own organ twitching with excitement behind the barrier of his briefs. Slowly, as you come down from the rush of it, gasping for air, he pulls away to examine the results of his work—you’re enticingly engorged and soaking. With a more delicate touch, he brushes featherlight kisses to the inflamed hues on your thigh before gingerly removing it from its place on his shoulder.

Rising eagerly, he brings you into another searing kiss. Although, the movements are slow and relaxed as he takes his time letting you taste yourself on his mouth. As his lips flow languidly against yours, sinking into the warmth of your embrace as you let go of your gown to wrap your arms around him, you both have a quiet understanding that you’re attempting to make amends for the hurtful things said and expressed during your earlier clash.

When you both slowly part from the kiss, the amorous, yet reverent stare he fixates on you with those deep, soulful eyes sets your heart aglow with a tender longing. Delicately, you lift your hand to cradle the side of his face, stroking the smooth skin with affection. His eyelids close in comfort, nuzzling into it as his lips gently peck at your palm.

Softly grabbing your wrist to break the contact, he sets your arm down, quietly stepping back while maintaining his gaze. His hands move downward to unbutton his shirt, fingers tactfully untangling the brass knobs from the red article of clothing. His expectant stare calls for you to follow his lead.

The plunge back making of your dress causes the sleeves to glide down your shoulders with little to no resistance, unveiling your bare chest to the cool, night air the open window lets in, causing your nipples to stiffen up. The textile plummets to your feet where you shuffle it aside, kicking your heels along after. With added effort, Michael eventually disrobes himself entirely of his leather and buckled garments, leaving him nude and just as exposed as you are.

Your pupils dilate as you take in the gorgeous sight of your boyfriend. The olive contours of his lean physique are illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. Your vision moves along the faintly defined muscles of his chest and torso, down to the neat trimming of his pubes, until they land on his impressive member, hanging proudly between his toned thighs and scattered with a constellation of vitiligo markings.

With hands trembling in inclination, you reach out to pull him back to you. This time, you’re the one to initiate the passionate dance of your lips. You feel him shudder, whimpering into your mouth as you firmly grasp his thick appendage, stroking it with purposeful motions. Pushing the skin back to circle your finger around his slit, a dribble of precum glides down, smoothly aiding the up and down caress of your hand to the velvety surface of his length.

Once stiffened to full capacity, he moves your hand to take hold of himself, placing the tip between your drenched lower lips, dragging it through the slick blendings of your previous foreplay. Leisurely, he rubs through your folds at a steady pace to liberally lubricate his girth before you feel the head gently breaching your entrance.

With breath fluttering into your neck as his head rests on your shoulder, he’s slowly inching into your awaiting canal. You feel slight discomfort at the burn of his width stretching you tremendously, but you do your best to relax the muscles, inviting him deeper into you. Finally, you’re stuffed full of him with his pelvis pressed flush to yours.

He peppers light kisses onto your throat, lifting your left leg up with a secure hold to cozily lay on his hip. And then, he begins to move with a slow, steady rhythm, pulling out all the way to the tip before delving back into you. By the slight grimace on your face, he can tell that you need more time to adjust to his size. But the slick, warm grip of your tight walls has him biting his lip in resistance, struggling to hold back the need to thoroughly ravage you.

Finally, he hears it. You let out small, pleasured sounds as he’s succeeded in fully loosening you up for him. The pain has been ebbed away into dazzling sparks of pleasure as you angle yourself upward to take him in deeper. With that queue, Michael gradually breaks from the slow tempo until he is rapidly driving into you, no longer able to contain himself.

Losing yourself in the feeling, desperate moans begin to fall from your lips in staccato with each powerful thrust he delivers to your watering core. Panting and groaning just as loudly, his nails dig crescent-shaped imprints where he grips your thigh, stroking into you relentlessly. Your own carve long, red scratches into his back, being overwhelmed by the sensations taking over your body as he hits your walls in just the right way.

“Damn, you feel amazing.” He speaks lowly through shallow breaths against your collarbone, hips continuing at a dizzying rate as he gets sucked farther into your wet and fleshy opening.

“S-So do you.” You barely are able to get the words out. The dizzying way he pummels your walls has heat stirring beneath your bladder. Blood rushes to all of your erogenous zones, heightening their sensitivity, begging to be touched. One hand rises to the aching buds of your breast while the other heads down to rub at the one between your legs, but Michael pulls back to quickly swat them away.

“Baby, please! It’s not enough.” You let out in agony, desperate to have those extra flares of stimulation. Discontented at being prohibited from it, you feel tears of frustration stinging your eyes. She’s so needy. Michael thinks to himself with amusement as he takes in your expression.

“Yeah? You want more?” The teasing tone of his question, paired with the lazy smile his lips are curved into screams of devious intentions. You’re unsure of what he has up his sleeve, but you hope it’s something that puts an end to your suffering.

“Yes!” You gasp out as he has now decreased his speed to deliver slow, long thrusts, stimulating you in a new and electrifying way as you can more distinctly feel him brushing against every ridge inside of you.

“Okay, I’ll give you more.” He stops his movements entirely to hoist your other leg around his hip, suspending you in the air. Quickly, you scramble to wrap your arms around his neck and lock your ankles to keep from falling. Just as soon as you are situated, once he’s certain his hold on you won’t slip, his hips begin to snap upward rapidly, hitting deeper and pressing right to that spot that has you keening with ecstasy. 

“Oh, fuck!” The hammering force of his strokes are so powerful that it has you roughly sliding up and down the wall. Your brace your legs tighter around his waist, unintentionally pulling him deeper into you. The lewd slaps of skin on skin, paired with the untamed moans and groans of rapture that rise from within your chests, echo pornographically off the walls of this ample suite.

His lips travel from your neck, down the swell of your breast where he takes your nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling it with fervor. While not fully sure if he means to or not, his pelvis rubs delightfully against your clit from the way he grinds you, giving you the relief you were after. He drifts his oral manipulations to the other breast, making sure it receives the same treatment.

With a wet pop, your tit falls from his mouth as he lifts up to press his forehead to yours. And then, he does something that has you nearly floundering out of his hold, not knowing how to handle this heightened pleasure that has jolts of electricity shooting up your spine.

Lightly undoing the lock you have around his waist, his arms allow the back of your kneecaps to rest on either side of him, causing you feet to dangle freely. In tandem, his arms mount you up to the tip of his erection, before dropping you back down all the way to the hilt with smooth thrusts meeting the falling motion. He does this over and over again until the stimulation of it buzzes in your nerves like static.

As wanton cries spill from your lips, back arching to take in more of his wild loving, he offers a smug question; “You like that?” 

“Oh God, yes!” It breathily rushes out as his hips are angled just perfectly to abuse the sensitive, spongy bump that lies on the upper part of your walls. 

“I know you do. No one else can do your body like this, baby. Only I can.” He seduces huskily, breath fanning warmly against your mouth as he pulls you into a brief, yet searing kiss before moving to lick and bite at your neck.

Everything is steamy, slick and wet between you. A thin sheen of sweat coats your bodies, causing a light glisten to waver off of your gyrating forms. The mixture of your heady arousals strings off of him like gooey webs when he pulls out, acting as a glue that sticks you together as he slides all the way back in. It pools around where you two are joined, dripping onto the ground as more from each of you overflows.

And as he melts back into you, over and over again, you let out sounds that gradually expand in octave as the friction of him rubs you in a blissfully disorienting way. That hot and familiar coil in your gut is starting to wind tight, waiting to be snapped free. He lets out his own pleasured noises against the shell of your ear as he feels his own release building, eager to spill out. And from the way you clench around him, he can tell that you’re nearing your climax as well.

But somewhere beneath these carnal sensations, lies an inkling of distress in Michael that once this is over, it may also be the end of you two. The worry has vulnerability pouring through his words as he says;

“Tell me you won’t go anywhere.” The tone pulls at your heartstrings as you feel him press a delicate kiss just below your jaw—a silent request for compromise. You lean into the mild touch as your arms squeeze tighter around his neck. You feel his heart beating sporadically as his chest lies atop of yours.

“I won’t go anywhere, Michael. Ever.” Full of devotion, the words pass your lips, holding him closer to you as he litters more affectionate kisses to your skin. 

“Tell me you love me.” He whispers against your cheek, hopefully awaiting your response. Much like the storm of passionate emotions raging within him, he rolls into you with frenzy as he can feel an orgasm steadily approaching, setting his loins aflame.

“I do… I love you so much.” The declaration comes out in a desperate sigh, spoken against his lips resting on the corner of yours. He delivers a delicate kiss to it—a stark contrast to the wild way he works your body.

“You gonna cum?” Michael’s question rings in the air with eager expectation, wanting to feel you come apart on him. And from the way you’re constricting around him, he knows you're getting ready to.

“Yes, yes, yes…” You chant in a daze as you feel the simmer of your release starting to bloom with heat deep within your walls. 

“Go on, girl. Give it to me.” The raspy command has you gripping him tighter, crying out as your canal overflows, showering Michael’s groin with the rains of your earth-shattering crest. The waves ride out within you, currents of electricity shooting up from your pelvis, to your chest and spreading outward to every extremity of your body. You lean back limply against the wall, basking in the feeling.

As you descend from euphoria, Michael’s thrusts continue, rubbing you into overstimulation. However, you make no complaints as his hips start to stutter their movements, signifying that he is on the cusp of his own climax.

And as he struggles to maintain his composure, the warm and gummy grip of your cunt tempting him to let go inside of you, he musters a moment of strength to pull all the way out, carefully letting you down to your feet as his hand takes over to replace your walls. 

Your ears are doused in the shlick sounds he creates with fast and smooth tugs along his length. With eyes closed and face furled up in concentrated bliss, his mouth hangs ajar, emitting high, breathy moans as sweat beads down his brow. You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed something so beautiful, yet so erotic in all of your life. 

Finally, with back bowed and fist clenched beside your head, his load shoots out of him in heavy spurts, coating his fingers and landing on your lower abdomen. He continues to stroke himself until every last drop has been squeezed out and his erection has died down before collapsing into your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist.

As you both use this moment to catch your breaths, your hands lift to gently stroke his head, curling the locks around your fingers, as he places a faint, yet lingering kiss over your heart, shifting the atmosphere into something soft and affectionate. You remain this way for a while, silently marinating in the calm of each other’s presence, before Michael rises from your chest to lay a light peck on your cheek.

“Wait right here.” He whispers it into your skin, pulling away to disappear into the bathroom, switching the lights on. It sends rays of yellow beaming across the floor, bringing some brightness to your dim surroundings. Your ears pick up the distant downpour of water from the shower running as Michael emerges back into view, walking over to carefully scoop you into his arms, taking you both to get cleaned up.

The calming scent of lavender permeates through the humid space, refreshing waters cascading down your bodies as your hands tactfully assist each other in washing away the remnants of your love making. Though you don’t speak as you go through the motions of bathing, the quiet between you is peaceful. The care with which you attend to each other conveys the love you are feeling.

Soon, you both find yourselves half dressed, Michael in his standard pair of briefs and you clad in a pale night slip, laying in the plush and spacious comfort of his king size bed. Your fingers idly twiddle with each other as you lie face to face, not having said a word yet, though there is a growing urge for someone to do so. Coincidentally, you both break the silence with an uttered ‘I’m sorry,’ at the same time. Staring at each other, you wait for one of you to carry on with what you want to say.

“Let me start.” You take the initiative to speak first, the satin sheets sliding off of you as you sit up to gather your thoughts.

“I’m sorry for how I acted tonight. I’ve always admired how dedicated you are to your career. It’s just that, I’ve been so lonely without you this past year… I guess I just lost my cool from not saying anything about it for so long.” You say in a small voice, now feeling embarrassed for your earlier outburst. Michael holds a solemn expression as you reveal to him what you’ve been holding back on, his thumb ghosting over the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

“No, I should have been here to celebrate with you. I know it’s been a lot to deal with, me being gone all the time, but I never knew you were struggling with it this much. Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” He questions with a tone full of concern. Weighing on him like a great failure, he feels upset with himself for not truly knowing the extent of the suffering you’d been dealing with.

“Your work means so much to you, Michael… I didn’t want to get in the way of that.” You mumble the last part so small that he almost didn’t hear it, but when it registers, his fingers delicately grip your chin, turning you head upwards to be eye to eye with him.

“You could never do that, angel. You’re important to me too, and I want you to let me know when things are difficult for you. Don’t ever feel like your worries are a burden to me.” He proclaims in a soft, yet vehement manner, lighting your heart aglow with adoration.

Internally, Michael feels a deep settling nervousness as he decides whether or not to state his next words. But in keeping his troubles from you, that would be hypocritical to his previous declaration. With that reasoning, albeit a murmur, he’s saying them before he loses the strength to.

“When you told me you were leaving, I couldn’t handle it. I never wanted you to know, but I think it’s best you do… I get scared sometime. Scared that you won’t stay with me. That what I do, who I am—it’ll be too much for you and one of these days, I’ll come home and you won’t be here.” 

As a lone tear rolls down his cheek from the forlorn statement, you swiftly pull him into a tight embrace. Rubbing gentle circles on his back while he quietly weeps into your neck, regret fills you as you realize that you failed to even consider that he was being tormented by such doubtful beliefs.

“Oh, Michael… After all this time, don’t you understand that I’m not going anywhere?” You say as you move him to face you once again, wiping away the wet streaks that stain his face.

“You should know by now that you can’t get rid of me that easily.” It’s spoken with a light lilt of mirth to lift the mood, to which Michael offers a weak smile that fades just as quickly.

“Well, what about what you said tonight?” Raking through your brain, you scan to recall what he is talking about. It finally hits you that he mistook your ‘I’m leaving’ as an ‘I’m leaving for good.’

“Wait, did you think I was talking about forever?” It shouldn’t be funny, but the fact that he had such a big reaction over a minor misinterpretation of words has you stifling a laugh.

 “...Weren’t you?” He asks with genuine confusion, looking at you with a pouty expression that you find so adorable, you can’t help but crack, giggling at the hilarity of it.

“Hahaha! No, baby. I just needed to clear my head for a bit… I’ll always come back to you.” Your laughter gradually fades into a tender utterance as you lovingly gaze into his gentle eyes while caressing his face. A bashful grin stretches across his lips, also finding humor in what transpired due to the misunderstanding. Still, there is a crucial, unresolved aspect of the night that keeps him on edge.

“I can’t believe the night turned out so bad.” He mutters, thinking about how the sole thing he wanted to accomplish this evening was squandered by the fight.

“Well, I’d say we definitely made up for it with something else...” You lightly muse, but it’s hardly noticed as Michael seems to be intensely absorbed in his thoughts.

“No, it wasn’t just the anniversary…” Contemplation pulls at his mind like a match of tug-of-war. Should he seize the moment and go forth with his plan right now, before he loses the courage to, or wait for another day to prepare more and make the event better thought out and more special?

“I’m…not catching on. What are you talking about?” There’s something unreadable in his stare that has you growing puzzled. It only increases as Michael gets up from the bed, going to where his clothes are strewn on the floor, fishing out his leather jacket before removing something from one of the unzipped pockets. What’s he up to? 

Michael takes one last look at the velvet box, mind set on going through with the proposal, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he treks back to you, each step seeming to span for an eternity with all the overwhelming emotions swirling inside of him. He comes around to your side of the bed, gently shifting your legs over the edge so you can see him better.

Much to your confusion, you’re about to ask him what’s going on, but the words quickly get trapped in your throat with astonishment as he drops down to one knee. Is he getting ready to do what I think he is? Your wonder is confirmed by what he nervously verbalizes next;

“In the two years you’ve been in my life, you’ve become my everything. I never knew it was possible to be so in tune, so connected with another person, until I met you. Now, I can’t imagine spending a single day without you by my side. My love for you is infinite, and I want to share that infinity with you. So… would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

He pops open the box, revealing a beautiful, gold Art Deco-style ring adorned with white and emerald diamonds. Heart pounding in your chest with joy, you’re so excited and in disbelief that you almost can’t speak. Somehow, you manage to rush out a small whispered ‘yes,’ as your answer.

“You will?” Michael’s eyes lighten up as you start to nod exuberantly with a radiant smile on your face, dropping down to join him on the floor.

“Yes, Michael! Of course I will!” You warble out, being overcome by exhilaration as his own hand shakily slides the shimmering jewelry onto your finger, wrapping his arms securely around you for a hug full of relief. And now, you're crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time.

“I just got you that Mickey Mouse watch you’ve been raving about. I guess it kind of pales in comparison to your gift,” you let out a watery laugh as joyful tears flow freely. Giggling at your remark and just as elated, he eases his firm hold on you to pull you into a swooning kiss.

Giddily, Michael starts to plant smooches all over your face, which you giggle at and try to bat away the ticklish feeling. Though, he abruptly pauses his affections to give voice to something you had almost forgotten.

“Oh! And, uh… sorry about your keys, by the way.” He offers sheepishly, feeling that the earlier action was a bit theatrical.

“That’s okay, sweetie. You’re definitely looking for them by yourself tomorrow, though,” you lightly jest, not even really concerned about it. And as you nuzzle back into Michael, squeezing him tightly, those terms are more than fine with him.

Note: Credits to @cafekitsune for the divider. Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, likes and reblogs would be appreciated :)

mentions: @mjfavgirlie2006 @h4rtz-f0r-lm @thatoneliberiangirl

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[starrihan]

Hello, I hope you're doing fine. I have a thought in my mind for several weeks... Threesome with Fuma and Nico 👉🏼👈🏻 God pls forgive me

Hello nonnie~ I’m doing great thank you!! How are you?? Your thoughts are beautiful cuz just imagining them both having their way with you 🤤 I've been thirsting HARD over Fumcholas like I need them to dominate me like this

not proofread btw like most of my works

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists

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I feel like a threesome with these two would be the result of game night dares. Like they had already been planning this together and they just needed to somehow get you to agree. There’s always been tension in the group. Your friends are two hot, buff, gym bros that love to compete and they find you just as attractive and alluring.

So naturally there would be some sexual feelings in the air, especially with how bold Nicholas tends to be. With Fuma it’s more subtle glances and a stare that lingers a little too long. With Nicho, you’ll fully catch him staring at your chest or you find yourself staring at his biceps whenever he rolls his sleeves up. Like the best of both worlds.

You and Fuma would lose to Nicholas and he just smiles at you menacingly. You’d look towards Fuma who also has, while not so-menacingly, a huge smirk on his face. And you look between the both of them scared because they kinda look like they want to kill you.

“Of course you can say no, but me and Fuma hyung have been talking about this for a while now.”

You’re nervous as Nicholas looks at Fuma, letting him continue the thought.

“Wanna have a threesome with us?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head because did you hear that correctly? A threesome with the two hottest guys you know that just so happen to be your best friends? You bite your lip, having given it some thought before but never really thinking anything would ever happen. You were still nervous, they were your best friends after all, and you were about to tread a line that would blur that completely, even change the entire trajectory of the friendship. But you let your desires get the best of you, nodding your head in complete confidence.

“I would love to.”

The boys looked at each other, smiling victoriously as you stood up from your spot on the floor. You look between them awkwardly, not knowing who to go to first, lucky for you, the boys had this planned out beforehand. Nicholas having come up with the idea initially, decided to make the first move.

"You okay with kissing us?"

You answer his question by pulling him to you, lips moving against one another as Fuma walks over to the both of you, coming up behind you, groping your chest and kissing your neck. Already you're moaning into Nicho's mouth, one hand holding him and the other one holding one of Fuma's hands that were on your chest. Fuma lifts his leg up between your legs, placing his thigh right under your needy pussy. You instinctively grind down on him, needing to feel any form of relief. Nicholas releases your lips, bringing a hand under your chin and lifting it, smirking at the desperate look on your face and the way you're subtly grind your hips, watching as the saliva that was once connecting your lips slowly breaks away.

"Hold on."

Fuma pulls away, letting Nicholas assist you in taking your shirt off, nipples hardening as the cool air hits them. Fuma places one hand back on your right boob, squeezing and pinching your nipple between his fingers as the other hands snakes around your head, pulling you into a kiss with him. Nicholas chuckles, watching as you moan into his hyung's mouth, placing his hands on your bare waist and taking your left nipple into his mouth. He's rougher, biting and sucking your nipple harshly, fingers digging into your waist as he helps you get off of Fuma's thigh. You can feel Fuma's growing bulge on your back, leaning back some more and catching him off guard, not expecting you to brush up against him.

The harder Nicho pushes you down onto Fuma's thigh, the louder you moan, straight into Fuma's mouth, needing to pull away to catch your breath. He continues kissing your neck while you throw your head back, the pleasure building fast. Nicholas moves up to your neck as well, both boys mirroring each other almost perfectly, both kissing one side of your neck as their hands play with your breasts, making quick work of you.

"Fuck, guys... this is... even better than I've ever imagined..."

They almost miss what you say with how labored your breathing is, and the way they were lost in the taste of your skin, the remnants of your vanilla perfume oil sweet and intoxicating.

"I know you want to cum on my thigh, go ahead,"

You don't know if you were explicitly waiting for his permission, but his words have you cumming, panties soaking through your leggings and onto his pants.

"Holy shit that was hot."

Nicho comments, painfully hard against his own jeans.

"Lets go to your room, it'll be more comfortable."

Fuma removes his thigh from under you, Nicho's hold on your waist the only thing keeping you up as your leg tingles, making you lose your balance. He laughs, picking you up and bringing you to your room, Fuma following behind. He places you on the bed gently, removing his pants as you and Fuma do the same. You're sweating, still panting from your orgasm as you watch both men strip naked, Nicholas getting behind you on the bed while Fuma stands in from of you.

"Get comfortable for us, you're gonna need it."

Fuma says, jerking his dick off in front of your face as your mouth salivates, ready to take him in as Nicho all but manhandles you onto your stomach, pulling you onto his mouth.

"You ready baby?"

He hums against your lips, pushing his tongue past your folds as you moan, taking Fuma's length into your mouth. Nicholas laps at your wetness, drinking it in like he needs it to survive, tongue flicking your clit every so often and sending a spark running up your body each time. He lets you ride his face for a bit before closing his lips on your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves, watching your back concave into the thick sheets as you hollow your mouth on Fuma's length, his hands in your hair, guiding your mouth along his length. Nicholas is rutting against the sheets, unable to still his hips as the sound of your sweet moans falls on his ears. Fuma lets moans and groans fall past his lips.

"You're doing so good for us, darling. You- fuck... you're so good with this little mouth of yours."

He runs a hand through your hair while the other holds your head still, thrusting down your throat now. You're trying your best to suppress your gagging, choking a little as his tip hits the back of your throat and then some, drooling spilling past your lips like a waterfall, finding it difficult to close your mouth as Nicholas keeps thrusting his tongue into your hole causing you to let out multiple whimpers and moans. The younger male pulls away first:

"I think she's ready. Please switch with me,"

He moves off of the bed, Fuma easing his cock out of your mouth slowly, your jaw going slack. He picks your head up, giving you a sensual kiss, dancing his tongue across your mouth. Nicholas, as impatient as he is, jerking himself off as you two take your time, tip red and angry and in desperate need of attention. Fuma finally pulls away, much to Nicholas's joy, taking his position behind you, rubbing the head against your slick folds. Nicholas crouches down to your level,

"You look so sexy baby, all fucked out already and no one's even fucked you yet-" he grabs your jaw sweetly, placing a soft kiss to your lips, one that was unlike the ones you shared before, "-I hope you're ready."

His left eyebrow quirks up as he nods, giving Fuma the go-ahead to start pushing into you. You inhale a sharp breath, nails digging into Nicholas's shoulders, the sting of him stretching you out mouth-watering. Nicholas takes your hands from his shoulders, placing them on his thigh as one hand goes to hold your head, the other on his dick. You open your mouth like its second nature, tongue out and ready to take his length in. He smirks, tapping his dick on your cheek and tongue, teasing you for being "our little fuck toy, ready without having to be told," as he rests his dick on your tongue.

Fuma begins thrusting into you, thrusting in hard, groping your ass as it jiggles with each thrust. Each hard thrust jerks you forward a bit, allowing Nicholas to relax as he places his hands behind his head, letting you set the pace with the aid of Fuma's thrusts. You pull him closer, needing him for stability to help you suck him off, but also to keep yourself from falling limp at the magnitude of Fuma's thrusts. He can't resist the urge, delivering a harsh smack to your ass as you groan, sending vibrations up Nicho's length. All of your moans and groans are jumbled, the air in the room becoming thick with the smell of sex and building orgasms.

You feel like you're suffocating in the best way possible, on the brink of cumming as you feel Fuma start to thrust slower, trying his best to hold on to the feeling of your walls sucking him back in.

"Shit, I'm not gonna last much longer..."

He releases himself inside of you, continuing his thrusts as you cum soon after. You wince as he pulls out of you, watching as a mix of your cum drips out of your wet hole.

"Fuck, Nicholas you gotta check this out."

He taps your cheeks, telling you to release his dick, knowing that you were barely comprehending what was going on right now, too blissed out. He walks over to where Fuma is now sitting back on the bed, admiring the way you hole pulses, watching how it sucks in the cum before pushing it out again.

"I think I need a turn now."

Fuma nods, helping you up. Nicholas sits back, legs open and spread, dick standing tall and erect. He holds you up, cowgirl, aligning you with his dick before easing you down, you throwing your head back at the feeling of being full yet again.

"F-fuck, Nicholas..."

You moan out as Fuma kneels between Nicholas's legs, placing a hand around your chest and the other on your neck, kissing up your back and shoulder blades as he sinks a particularly hard bite into your shoulder. Nicholas's hands are on your waist, helping you ride him as you have very little strength left in your body to do it fully by yourself. He coos,

"Is our little kitty too tired to ride me by herself?"

You nod, barely able to keep up with his pace. He shifts his position, laying flat on his back and planting his feet flat on the bed, drilling into you as he can feel his orgasm approaching quickly. You're screaming curses, Fuma's bites and light pressure on your neck straining your voice as he grinds himself on your back, still hard from before but sensitive enough to where the stimulation from grinding on you was all he needed to feel good, second orgasm steadily building.

"Fuck Y/N, I'm gonna cum. You can take it, right?"

He asks as if he wasn't gonna cum in you anyways, face scrunching up in pleasure as he releases his load, making sure to milk himself of every last drop. His actions, combined with Fuma's is too much for you, reaching a new level of bliss as you squirt, your fluids drenching Nicholas's pelvic and Fuma's thighs.

"FUCK! FUMA, NICHOLAS!!"

You scream their names out, loud enough for the neighbors to hear as your body goes limp, save for Fuma having such a tight grip on you. He continues rocking into you, cumming all over your back, grunting in your ear as he empties himself. You're panting hard, throat dry and jaw slack from all the sucking and screaming, Fuma breathing just as heavily against your neck. Nicholas watches as your squirt fluids slowly displace all three of your cum from your hole, waiting for you to be ready before pulling you off of him, laying you back on your bed.

You squirm, high from the non-stop orgasms but uncomfortably wet and sticky. The boys help clean up, Nicholas picking up all the dirty, discarding clothes and placing them in your hamper while Fuma grabs a cloth to clean you with, making sure to get your back as well. They bring you water as well, helping remove your sheets and throwing them in the wash.

You sigh, finally having recovered (sorta) from the intense orgasms. You watch as they work to clean up, smiling at the sentiment.

"Thank you for helping clean up. I really appreciate it."

"It's the least we can do after almost breaking you."

Fuma says, laughing as he goes through your closet, knowing you have some of his and Nicholas's stolen clothes lying around.

"You call that almost breaking me? Please, that was nothing."

You say, competitive nature taking ahold of you as you gradually sip at your water.

"Oh yeah? Think you could handle more? You could barely say our names by the end of it."

Nicholas's ears perk up, challenging your claim. But you don't back down.

"Try me."

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-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists

[neil-gaiman]

Hello I hope you’re having a nice day!! I don’t know if you’ve answered this before but I had a question concerning The Sandman about a debate I can’t get a clear answer to.

About Desire and Unity’s relationship; would it be considered rape? In my initial interpretation (as someone who became a fan via the show and hasn’t finished the comics yet) I interpreted the comic’s mention of it as being through the perspective of the doctors — the only conclusion that would be understandable in the waking world. In the show, Unity regards Desire with fondness/nostalgia, so I assumed they ‘seduced’ or ‘courted’ her in her dream and thus was fairly consensual. But because it’s a very very complex and impossible situation, would it still be considered rape since she didn’t technically consent in the waking world? Does her consent hold the same gravity since she wasn’t fully aware? Would Unity herself consider it rape/sexual assault?? Are the situations (comic vs show) different canons??

(Again I haven’t finished the comics so maybe this has already been answered, I get confused and lost by small details very easily so my media literacy isn’t always the best lol)

What’s your general feelings on this?? BTW THIS IS NOT ME CONDEMNING YOU FOR EITHER OUTCOME OF COURSE!! I think these conversations are very important to have in all sorts of medias. And I know it’s especially difficult and even unfair at times to hold supernatural beings or situations to the same justices or perspectives as humanity. Also the time period would probably affect things as well. I just wanted to know cause Desire is one of my favourite characters and I’m not sure if I should feel guilty for that. Anyways I’m rambling THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOUR WRITING ‼️

(Sorry if I was meant to censor rape I forgot if tumblr censors it or not 🤡)

Unity fell in love with someone in her dream, had a number of interactions and had consenting sex with them in her dream. In the waking world, her body parthenogenically reproduced. No physical interaction occurred in the waking world. No DNA was exchanged.

Beyond that, you're on your own.

[certifiedsexed]

Is it normal to get nervous about seeing your partner’s dick? Like, when we first started getting sexual with each other, I was so shy to even see it, my partner took it out and I couldn’t even look! Eventually I saw it, but during the whole time I was giving them a handjob, I just stared at their face cause of how nervous I was and kept on asking questions about how it feels.

The thing is that before the whole thing, I get so excited and horny and I really wanna make my partner feel good! But once I’m in the act, I get so freaking nervous, but it’s not like I don’t wanna do it or anything, I really do, I just feel bad cuz my partner keeps on asking me if I wanna stop cuz they assume that I don’t wanna do it cuz of how nervous I am

(Btw I am not being pressured, they’re the type of person thats very gentle with me and would never force me to do anything)

Absolutely! It can be very intimate to get naked but it can also be intimate to see others naked. Things like that often make people nervous.

Getting anxious once you're faced with actually doing something, even if its something you've been looking forward to, is fairly common. Sometimes it just takes some time to get used to new things, especially intimate ones!

If your partner is worried, maybe you should try explaining a little more.

Make sure they understand its kind of like the nervous people get on rollercoasters, where you can really look forward to it and really enjoy it in the moment but it can still be really nerve-wracking sometimes! It won't necessarily make them stop checking in but that might help ease their worries a little.

Hope this helps a little, Anon, let me know if you have any other questions! <3

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can find previous chapters here

chapter nine -> the sleepover

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: nightmares, light angst, sexual humor

a/n: HERE’S CHAPTER 9!!!!! so sorry for the delay and tysm for being patient with me as i recover from my injury <3

You woke with a start, a firm weight pressing into your chest stirring momentary panic within you. You let out a sigh of relief when you realized that the culprit was Luke, cuddled up next to you. Blinking a few times, you glanced at your phone to check the time. It was 1:30 in the morning, which meant that you and Luke had been asleep for over an hour. You also noticed that Chewie had texted you thirty minutes ago.

Chewie: high asf leia brought some strong shit. going 2 bed

Chewie: they’re in the living room i don’t think they’ll start fucking but beware if u go in there

Chewie: luke was talking about u the whole way home btw

You blushed and tossed your phone to the end of your bed, almost hitting Luke’s foot in the process. You gently moved him off of you, and he only stirred slightly, still mostly asleep. He must have been tired, you noted, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead as you got out of bed.

You made your way into the kitchen then, and you saw Han and Leia sitting on the couch. They were eating some of the pizza from earlier, and you realized then that Luke hadn’t had any of it even though he was so hungry. No wonder he was tired; he was probably eating sleep for dinner. You heard a scream emit from the television, and you could only guess that they were watching some sort of horror movie. You tried not to react outwardly when you saw how close they were sitting, legs pressed together while Han very casually had his arm resting on the back of the couch, inches away from being wrapped around her.

You took a slice of pizza and popped it into the microwave, gaining their attention in the process.

“Hey,” Han greeted you, voice a little raspy from both the hour of the night and the copious amounts of weed he’d smoked, “You feelin’ better?”

You were confused for a moment, but recalled that Luke had lied and told them that your head was hurting earlier as an explanation for your absence.

“Yeah, just tired,” you said, grabbing a soda from the fridge, “Chewie said you guys smoked him out.”

“Chewie was already on an edible by the time we started smoking,” he snorted, rolling his eyes, “You should know better than to think that anyone could out-smoke him.”

You laughed tiredly, nodding.

“That makes more sense,” you agreed, smiling, “What’re you guys watching?”

“The Conjuring,” Leia replied before Han could stop her, and you heard him sigh.

“That movie sucks,” you said, “The second one is way better—“

“I’m too high to hear one of your movie spiels,” he warned, glaring at you. You laughed and took a bite of your pizza, shrugging.

“Where’s Luke?” Leia asked.

“He’s asleep,” you murmured, hoping not to get any further questions about where he was sleeping and what you all had been up to.

“He is?”

She sounded surprised, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, and you gave her a curious look.

“Should I wake him up?”

“No!” she said quickly before regaining her composure, “Sorry, no. You can let him sleep. Assuming that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t mind. He doesn’t snore.”

She relaxed a little, and you wanted to press her further but decided against it.

“Are you guys staying the night?” Han asked suddenly.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she replied, seemingly torn between her options, “But Luke—never mind, sorry. We can have our driver pick us up whenever you guys want us out of your hair.”

“You can stay,” Han assured her, being uncharacteristically kind, “You can take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s late.”

She seemed caught off guard by the offer, but gave him a small smile in return.

“I’m not gonna take your bed, but I wouldn’t mind spending the night. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Your royal servants will execute me at dawn if they find out that I made their princess sleep on a shitty couch. I can’t risk my health like that. My luck’s running out as it is.”

She giggled, and the interaction was so strangely pleasant that you felt like you were intruding on something. For that reason, you promptly bid them goodnight and scurried away. You left some clean pajamas in the bathroom for Leia and returned to your room, surprised to see Luke tiredly looking up at you through lidded eyes.

“Hey,” he said quietly, voice raspy, “Do I need to leave?”

“No,” you assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing his bangs out of his face, “You guys are spending the night.”

“Oh,” he replied, seemingly a little confused, “Am I allowed to sleep here? I can take the couch—“

“I just sucked your dick. I don’t mind if you sleep in my bed.”

He blushed a little, still out of it, and nodded shyly.

“I should tell you something,” he began nervously, now avoiding your gaze. You were suddenly concerned, and you tried to provide him with some comfort by continuing to stroke his hair.

“You can tell me anything,” you said softly, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Okay,” he sighed, looking down, “I, um, have parasomnia. Like, the nightmare kind. And it’s bad, I guess? I’m not gonna like, hurt you in my sleep or anything. But I’m not a very fun person to spend the night with.”

You stared at him for a moment, the revelation making your heart ache. Luke, who was always so energetic and positive, wasn’t afforded any solace in his sleep. It struck you as cruel, but perhaps your feelings for him were amplifying that. Being overly emotional in your reaction wouldn’t do him any favors, and so you pushed the urge to cradle him in your arms aside.

“That’s okay,” you told him, caressing his cheek, “Is there anything I can do? Anything that usually helps you?”

He didn’t reply at first, looking at you with his mouth slightly agape. You wondered if that was the wrong thing to say, but he placated you soon after your worries arose, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, though his voice was distant, “It’s not your responsibility. I just wanted you to be aware. In case it changes your willingness to share a bed with me.”

“Why would it change anything?”

“Because it’s weird? I dunno.”

“Luke,” you sighed, feeling that familiar pang in your heart that only he seemed to be able to evoke from you, “If someone tells you that you’re weird for something that’s out of your control, then they suck, and that says more about them than it does about you. I’m not gonna judge you for shit like that, alright?”

He looked at you in quiet disbelief, finally nodding and letting out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting your eyes, “And the cuddling is still okay?”

“Of course,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Do you wanna go back to sleep?”

He nodded and pulled the covers up, inviting you to join him. When you did, he immediately pulled you into his chest again, securing his arms tightly around you.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, finally closing his eyes.

You were asleep again within minutes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The nightmares did, in fact, come. A strangled yelp had woken you up, and you sat up with a start, your eyes adjusting to see Luke with his hand covering his mouth, his chest rising in time with his rapid breathing. His eyes flicked over to you, and only then did you notice that he was crying. The realization filled you with despair, and you instantly committed yourself to bringing him back to a state of calm.

“Hey,” you began softly, “Are you—“

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, covering his mouth again in an effort to suppress the sob that threatened to escape his lips, “Can I use your restroom?”

“Of course,” you said, and he stood quickly. You tried to follow him, but he shook his head.

“I just need a second. I’m sorry.”

With that, he left the room.

You sat with baited breath, awaiting his return and longing to comfort him in some way. Hundreds of questions flooded your head, but you suppressed them in an effort to remain collected when he came back. One was at the forefront of your mind, though: What had he been dreaming about?

After about fifteen minutes, you saw the doorknob twist, and he finally reentered the room. You had turned on your bedside lamp since his departure, and you could now fully see his disheveled state. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks stained with tears. He looked pitiful, sad, and you felt so bad for him that it was overwhelming.

“Sorry,” he said, voice strained. He must’ve been crying in your bathroom.

“Don’t be sorry,” you told him, patting the mattress, “I’ll hold you if you want, okay?”

He stared at you for a second, as if he didn’t quite understand your offer. He blinked, and then slowly walked over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it and staring down at his hands. His body was tilted towards you, but he wasn’t lying down, so you sat up and touched his shoulder. He jumped a little, but didn’t brush you off.

“I can leave,” he said then, not meeting your eyes, “My driver will be able to get me, so it’s not any trouble. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you said, gently rubbing his back. He finally looked at you then, his expression difficult to decipher.

“It might happen again.”

“That’s fine,” you replied, “I’m sorry that this is happening to you, but I’d still really like you to stay. If you’re comfortable with that, that is.”

He sighed, sounding defeated, and relaxed into your touch. He let you guide him back underneath the covers, the two of you lying down again. His eyes were closed now, a single tear rolling down his cheek, and you gently wiped it with your thumb.

“Do you wanna talk about it at all?” you asked softly.

“It’s not your responsibility,” he said, voice cracking a bit in a way that made your heart ache.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” you replied, tucking his hair behind his ear, “I care about you. When you’re upset, I want to be there for you.”

“It’s not your responsibility,” he repeated, sniffling. Seeing Luke quiet and sad felt wrong, and you wished you could make him feel better.

“Stop saying that,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “You’re not feeling well. It’s okay to accept help from other people.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it,” he replied, his voice shaky, “I shouldn’t have made you deal with it. I’m sorry.”

“Can I hold you?” you asked. He opened his eyes and stared at you, seemingly confused.

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine. But I know that you like physical affection, and I like that too, so if it would help, then I’d really love to hold you.”

He blinked, studying you intently, as if he were looking for something hidden beneath your features.

“I ruined your night.”

“What? You didn’t ruin my night. What are you talking about?”

“I woke you up,” he argued, “Because I was crying. And now I’m being weird, and you should be annoyed with me for acting stupid, and—“

“Stop,” you interjected, cupping his cheek, “It’s not your fault that you had a nightmare, Luke. You’re not being very fair to yourself.”

He looked at you with something akin to desperation, like he was begging you to agree that he had done something wrong. You wouldn’t budge, of course, so you just made a show of outstretching your arms, giving him a small smile as you did. He finally relented, allowing you to pull him into a tight embrace. He instinctively buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you gently petted his hair.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you’d taken him into your arms. Every now and then, you could feel him quietly cry, his tears dampening the collar of your shirt.

After a while, his breathing had evened out, and the shaking of his shoulders had subsided. You briefly wondered if he was asleep, but your theory was disproved when he finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I should’ve had the foresight to stop that from happening. That was irresponsible of me.”

“Stop,” you ordered softly, tucking a blond curl behind his ear, “Being there for you isn’t a chore. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

He sat up and stared at you, his eyes tired, and he gave you a defeated smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “And nothing you can say will make me feel any less guilty about having a meltdown in your room after you’ve been nothing but perfect to me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He laughed, and you hadn’t realized how much you treasured that sound until now.

“You’re funny,” he told you, and he suddenly pulled you into a hug, “And sweet. And doing way too much for someone you’re just pretending to date.”

You laughed to mask the sting that you felt at the fact that none of this was real, and you prayed that he didn’t feel your heart shatter as he held you.

“You’d do the same for me,” you decided to say.

“That’s different,” he replied, readjusting so that you were both lying down again.

“How is that different?” you pressed, looking into his eyes. He smiled at you in a way that almost looked sad, but you chalked it up to him being exhausted from his nightmare.

“Just is,” he said, kissing your cheek before cuddling up to you again, resting a hand on the back of your head as he pulled you closer, “I’ve kept you up for too long. You should sleep.”

“You should sleep,” you argued, but you let him cradle you regardless.

“I’m not gonna risk waking you up again, but I’ll rest,” he bargained.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you mumbled into his neck, “It doesn’t bother me. I promise. What does bother me is you trying to punish yourself for it by staying awake.”

“I don’t do that,” he protested, but the smallness of his voice told you that he was lying. You recalled when you stayed the night at his apartment and he looked as if he hadn’t slept the entire time, and sudden realization washed over you.

“You didn’t sleep when I spent the night at your place. I know you didn’t.”

You felt him sigh, and in a quiet, defeated tone, he whispered, “I didn’t want you to hear.”

“I wouldn’t have judged you.”

“I know. It’s not about that,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “But thanks for saying that. I really appreciate you.”

You blushed and hid your face further in his neck.

“Flattery,” you mumbled simply, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you.

“I mean it. You’ve been a better friend to me in just this semester than people I’ve known for years. Thank you.”

Friend. The word caused bile to rise in your throat, but you suppressed your displeasure, instead letting sleep take you.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, hand in your hair. You thought you heard him say something else, but you weren’t quite sure, as you were quickly fading into unconsciousness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You woke up to Luke still by your side, lazily playing with your hair as he scrolled on his phone, the morning sunlight illuminating his features. His face was still a little puffy from crying, but he seemed much more like himself, and you felt happy to see him so relaxed.

“Morning,” he said softly once he noticed that you were staring, “It’s eight.”

“Morning. Did you sleep?”

“Yes, actually,” he replied, smiling sweetly at you, “I’m sorry again. About last night.”

“Don’t be sorry. I meant everything I said.”

He nodded, blushing a little, streaks of light seeping through the blinds and creating a soft halo around his hair. He looked angelic.

“I got up for some water at like five, and the couch was empty, so.”

You sat up, unable to contain your excitement, and grinned widely at him.

“Oh my god,” you cheered quietly, rubbing your eyes, “Han was saying he’d take the couch, but Leia was saying that she didn’t want to uproot him from his own bed, and I bet they totally just agreed to share the bed, and—This is perfect. We’re such great wingmen.”

“The best in the game,” he agreed, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, not hungover. A little sleepy, but not more than usual, I guess. You?”

“I feel like I got the best head of my life last night,” he teased, and you gently elbowed him in the side, “Seriously, though. I’m doing okay. Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry again about all of that.”

You heard his stomach growl, as if on cue, and you giggled at him.

“You didn’t eat any pizza,” you recalled, frowning.

“It’s fine. I’ll eat when I get home.”

“Or we can go get something now,” you offered, suddenly nervous that he’d reject you.

“I don’t have any clean clothes, and I haven’t brushed my teeth. I probably look like shit.”

“I have a shirt that’ll fit you, at least. And we probably have a spare toothbrush somewhere from Han’s whore days.”

“Han was a whore?” he asked, sounding amused.

“I probably shouldn’t call him that, but yeah. He used to bring people home a lot.“

“To the extent that he kept spare toothbrushes around?”

“Just the cheap kind,” you added, as if that contributed to your defense of him.

“I, of all people, am in no place to judge. I’m just teasing,” he assured you, and you relaxed a little, “I don’t care who Han fucks, as long as he’s not doing it while trying to be exclusive with my sister.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t think so. So, if you have a toothbrush for me and you’re alright with me wearing one of your shirts, I’ll take you up on that breakfast journey.”

You pretended not to be as excited as you actually were, happy to spend time alone with Luke for even longer. You weren’t sure how you’d gotten so lucky. You quickly got dressed, threw Luke one of your oversized sweatshirts, and scurried away to find an unopened toothbrush. Victorious, you returned to your room to see him wearing your shirt, the image momentarily stopping you in your tracks.

“Success?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

You tossed him the toothbrush and he smiled, winking at you before exiting the room and disappearing into your bathroom. He returned a few minutes later, hair much less tousled and looking pretty good to have not had access to any of his own clothes or hygiene products.

“You did quite a number on me,” he said, and you had no idea what he meant until you actually took a good look at him.

His neck was covered in hickeys.

“I’m so sorry,” you squeaked, cheeks ablaze as you covered your mouth in both embarrassment and shock, “Holy shit. I didn’t think—“

“Don’t be sorry. I asked you to.”

“You begged me to,” you corrected, though you still felt a little scandalous.

“I’m not ashamed,” he replied with a shrug, grinning at you, “You’ll have to let me return the favor soon.”

You couldn’t stop blushing this morning. You nodded, trying not to let the implication that he wanted to continue being intimate with you make you collapse completely.

With that, the two of you headed out, leaving Han and Chewie with a text message to inform them of your whereabouts. Luke insisted that he knew of a good bakery nearby, and you followed him into the city. At some point, he’d taken your hand in his own, lacing your fingers together as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Up until you reached the more densely populated area of downtown, you had completely forgotten that Luke was Luke Skywalker. When you felt several pairs of eyes on you, though, you recalled that the guy you’d been playing pretend with was actually the son of a highly prolific politician and Hollywood’s new favorite actor. Nobody stopped you on account of Luke himself not being much of a celebrity, but people certainly recognized him. He squeezed your hand a little tighter when he realized that you’d noticed the staring, his attentiveness making you swoon. He was too sweet.

When you arrived at the bakery, he let go of you only to hold the door, placing a hand on the small of your back as soon as you got inside.

“If you like cinnamon rolls, this is the place to get them. They also have pretty good scones, but the cinnamon rolls are way more filling. They’re like, huge.”

You nodded, listening to him ramble on about the menu.

“I trust your judgment when it comes to food,” you told him, and he beamed at you.

That, apparently, had translated to him as permission to order for you and pay for your food, and he added on a few things for Han, Leia, and Chewie as well. Luke led you to a table by the window, a cute vase of flowers in the center. This felt like a date.

“Is it okay if you and I eat here? We don’t have to stay for long. Just thought it’d be nice,” he asked, sounding nervous.

You nodded, and your food was served to you pretty soon after, the server handing the to-go orders to you in a bag. Luke placed the bag by his feet and took a bite of his cinnamon roll, moaning as he always did.

“You just do that to piss me off now,” you remarked, tasting your own food. He may have been justified this time, because the cinnamon roll was delightful in ways that exceeded your expectations.

“Mostly, yeah,” he admitted, smiling at you.

You ate your breakfast together and chatted, mostly about general small talk topics that you had just never gotten around to learning about each other.

“I don’t even know your major,” you realized, eyes widening.

“I don’t like talking about myself that much when I first meet people. It’s not your fault,” he said sheepishly, blushing.

“Why is that? If I could be as interesting as you are, I’d probably talk about myself all the time.”

He laughed and shook his head.

“I think people usually have a lot of ulterior motives when they try to get to know me, I guess. It’s just a habit now.”

You frowned and pointed your fork at him as you chewed, hoping he’d get your meaning.

“My major?” he asked, and smiled when you nodded, “Guess.”

“Business.”

“Seriously?”

“I dunno. Figured you might do something easy since you’re an athlete and all.”

“Do you think I’d survive in the business world?”

“No,” you decided, shaking your head, “You’re too nice. Okay, um, philosophy.”

He nodded excitedly at that.

“You know me so well,” he teased.

“I took an intro to philosophy class a few semesters ago,” you mused, trying to recall the specifics of the course.

“I know,” he told you, “I took it at the same time as you did.”

You stared at him for a second, his admission not quite computing, because you had never noticed him in that class. You supposed, however, that it was your first year at this school, and you didn’t really know what Luke looked like at that point or why he was such a big deal. It was a rather large lecture as well, definitely over a hundred people. Still, you struggled to wrap your head around the idea that you wouldn’t have noticed him at all, and even more so that he noticed you. He had to have been lying.

“How would you know that?” you asked skeptically, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I remember you. You always sat in the second row, and you participated even though it was a big class. Teacher’s pet,” he quipped, grinning at you.

All of that was true, but you still struggled to believe him even for a second. Why would he have noticed you?

“I’m good with faces,” he added, as if reading your mind, “Especially pretty ones.”

“I don’t believe you. Why did you take intro to philosophy your second year if you planned on majoring in it?”

“I didn’t. I added it as a second major.”

“You’re a double major?”

“Yep. Now guess the other one.”

“Give me a hint.”

“Science.”

“Really?” you asked, unable to mask your surprise, “I was about to guess theater.”

“Because of my dad?”

“Because you’re dramatic.”

“I’m messing with you. I did theater in high school, actually, but then my dad got way more famous than he already was and I got scared of just being given parts that I didn’t deserve.”

“How noble of you. Okay, environmental science?”

“Not a bad guess, but no.”

“Can you just tell me?” you pleaded, growing frustrated with this game. He giggled and finally relented.

“Astronomy,” he said, smiling, “I’m double majoring in philosophy and astronomy.”

It shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was. The image of Luke curiously staring through a telescope and noting the night sky brought you a strange amount of warmth. Everything you learned about him just made you like him even more, and you were overcome by the urge to know him much more deeply than you did.

“That’s really cool,” you confessed, trying not to make your admiration for him obvious, “So I guess you read a lot?”

He nodded, and for the next thirty minutes you listened to him ramble about different books and philosophies that he’d read about. Finally getting him to talk about himself was such a treat that you never wanted breakfast to end, but as time ticked on, you realized that you’d have to get back to the house at a reasonable hour to give the others their breakfast. Luke had a similar realization, and the two of you began the trek home soon after.

“That was nice,” you told him, “You should tell me about the stuff you like more often. You’re really good at explaining stuff.”

He blushed and nodded, promising that he’d try to do better with that in the future. He then asked you more about what you were studying and what your ambitions were, and listened to you talk in detail about your major. He asked a lot of questions too, and having someone seem so genuinely interested in things you cared about made you feel light.

You finally made it to your house, but upon unlocking the door realized that everyone was still asleep.

“Damn,” he said, hands on his hips, “Guess we have to entertain ourselves for a little longer.”

You nodded as he put the takeout on the counter, trying to think of what else you could do in the meantime.

“You could show me a movie you like,” he suggested, “Maybe something that’s not too scary, though.”

You giggled at him and put on Fantastic Mr. Fox since it was both wholesome and on the shorter side. You cuddled on the couch together and made it through about an hour of the film when you heard Han’s bedroom door swing open, Leia emerging in a shirt that belonged to him and nearly swallowed her whole. He appeared a few seconds later, not bothering to tell you good morning as he made a beeline for the cinnamon rolls.

“What’re you guys watching?” Leia asked, sitting on the arm of the couch, licking her thumb, and wiping something from Luke’s face.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, trying to push her away from him, “Don’t touch me with your spit. That’s repulsive.”

“You had icing on your cheek,” she said simply, looking amused.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Luke pouted in distress, turning to you.

“I didn’t notice,” you replied honestly.

“Did you guys pick these up this morning?” Han asked with his mouth full.

“Yeah, cinnamon rolls from the bakery downtown. They’re good.”

“Thanks, kid,” he said, before adding, “Did you get attacked on the way there?”

You didn’t understand what he meant at first, but when Leia covered her mouth in an effort to stifle her laughter, you knew it had to be about the two of you.

“Are you hurt?” you asked him naively.

Leia was snickering now. Luke glared at her before turning to give you a sweet smile, shaking his head.

“I’m not hurt. They’re trying to make fun of me.”

“I’m genuinely concerned for your health. Someone was trying to eat you alive,” Han remarked, taking another bite of his food.

Oh. Oh. Your face immediately flushed, and you suddenly felt trapped. Leia pulled down the collar of Luke’s borrowed sweatshirt to look at more deep bruises resting right above his collarbone, and you really wanted this conversation to be over soon.

“I didn’t notice these on the way here,” she noted, tugging his shirt a little more and wincing when she found additional hickeys.

“You were too busy talking to him,” Luke replied, reminding his sister that she was in no position to show skepticism about his romantic life, “And they’re a lot darker this morning than they were then.”

“No kidding,” she murmured, still examining his neck.

“Can you quit?” he snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. I just haven’t seen you with hickeys in forever. Thought your coach didn’t like it when you showed up with those.”

That was new information. Given his insistence last night, you had just assumed that he frequently indulged in this. Why had he begged you to leave marks if he was going to get shit for it later?

“What’s he gonna do? Not put me in the game?”

“He might threaten that, yes.”

“He won’t. They’d be fucked without me.”

“You’re so humble,” she snorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not trying to be a dick, but we’ll be going to the playoffs soon. He’s not gonna put in B-string for that, and he’s definitely not gonna take out his captain.“

“Who would dare punish a Skywalker?” Han murmured as he continued to demolish his cinnamon roll, “Daddy would have a pretty strong word with them if it came to that, huh?”

An emotion you couldn’t identify passed over Luke’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Han,” you warned, rubbing your temples, “Leave him alone.”

Luke smiled smugly at that, looking satisfied, and Han just scoffed and went back to eating. Leia looked at you curiously for a second, narrowing her eyes at the two of you, but ultimately said nothing. Huh.

“Well, we should head out. I’ve got a student council meeting at noon,” she said, getting up to grab a cinnamon roll for the road.

Luke sighed and squeezed your knee under the blanket you were sharing, a quiet goodbye only for you. He stood then, following his sister to the door, and gave you a cute wave paired with a smile.

“Thanks for letting us stay,” Leia said, punching Han in the arm lightly as she grabbed a napkin for her food, “See you in class.”

He only nodded, too standoffish to say anything else, and then thanked Luke again for breakfast.

“Tell Chewie we said bye!” Luke added happily, and with that, they were gone.

You and Han looked at each other for a moment, as if in a stalemate. Finally, he spoke.

“Nothing happened,” he asserted, though the faintest blush decorating his cheeks made you skeptical, “We just shared a bed. That’s it.”

“Okay.”

“You guys did too,” he continued, sounding defensive, “So don’t give me any shit, okay?”

“Okay,” you said again, but he seemed to know that you didn’t fully believe him.

“Nothing is going on between us. We barely even get along as friends.”

“Sure, I believe you.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You have a stupid look on your face. I can tell.”

You rolled your eyes and stood from the couch, not in the mood to hear him vehemently deny his building feelings for Leia.

“I’m going back to sleep. You can argue with Chewie when he gets up.”

He huffed, and then, looking at the counter, asked a question that caught you off guard.

“Hey,” he began awkwardly, not meeting your eyes, “Have you noticed anything off about him?”

“About Luke? Why?” you asked, surprised. Something about his inquiry almost seemed melancholy, and you began to wonder if Leia had mentioned something to him that you didn’t know about.

“I dunno. I just—I’m probably just looking too far into it. Never mind.”

“No,” you protested, taking a seat at the island, “Tell me.”

He sighed and pinched off a piece of his napkin, rolling the paper into a little ball and flicking it across the counter.

“Leia alluded to something when we first met him. I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but I’ve just kept thinking about it since then, and now I notice every time she seems worried about him.”

You weren’t in the mood to tease him about how in tune he was with Leia’s emotions.

“You’re worried about him,” you realized, something about Han caring enough about Luke to notice when he wasn’t feeling well making your heart swell.

“I am not,” he argued, glaring at you.

“I know what you mean, though,” you said, thinking about his words, “I think he might have some shit going on, yeah, but he doesn’t like talking about himself that much.”

“Leia really hates his friends,” he added quietly.

“That’s understandable. I’ve never seen them do anything weird to him, but I could definitely imagine that they’re not the best people to go to if you need to talk to someone.”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out or nothin’ kid. I guess maybe I was a little worried about him. Got up to piss last night and thought I heard someone cryin’ or something.”

“Oh,” you murmured, recalling Luke’s nightmare, “Yeah, but he’s alright.”

“You two didn’t get into a fight or anything, right?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his tone casual.

“No, Han,” you assured him, trying not to let your amusement at his brotherly concern shine through, “But thank you. I appreciate you checking in on us.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, gaze darting back to the countertop. You chuckled and stood, slapping his shoulder.

With that, you trekked back to your room, closing your door and collapsing onto your bed. You checked your phone then, surprised to see that Luke had already texted you.

Luke: when can i see u again?

You grinned, blushing and staring at the screen.

Things were falling into place.

[locomoqo]

VASCO FLUFF PLSPLSSS😭😭❤️❤️❤️

fragilility hidden in ink

— vasco x gn!reader

details: nothing but fluff, exploring each others bodies but not in a sexual way

A/N: cutie vasco fluff yum yum this has been sitting in my drafts for a while (a while literally being two days, not proofread btw :3)

Physical touch.

Touch is an essential aspect of the human experience. It’s something that strengthens bonds, may it be a simple handshake, a hug from a loved one, or even those passionate moments deep in the night.

The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue across the sheets. Vasco lay on his back, his chest rising and falling steadily, with you nestled against him. The gentle aftermath of your intimacy wrapped around both of you like a soft blanket.

Vasco stared down at you as you moved closer into his side, his fingers trailing up and down your bare back. There was something about the way you looked in the dim lightning with the lamp on your bedside table highlighting some parts of your face.

He revered you. He thought of you as the sun, everything about you felt so warm. He felt warm around you, no matter how long you two have been dating, you still managed to make his heart beat out of his chest every single time you blessed him with even an ounce of your attention.

“You know…” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts. What were you talking about? He wasn’t listening, he was too absorbed admiring you. “No, I don’t.” His gruff voice answers, making you huff out in amusement. “Sorry, what were we talking about?” He asks, bringing his hand from your lower back to your face to brush some of your hair out of your face.

“Your tattoos.” Your fingers tap one on his chest, “You’ve never told me the meaning behind them.” You clarify. One of his eyebrows raised in curiosity, “The meaning…?” He repeats as he looks down at where your finger tapped.

“They’re umm traditional Japanese tattoos‒oh and this one’s a bluebird.” He points at the bluebird tattoo on his chest then glances back up at you with such a simple expression on his face that clearly asked if he was able to answer your question.

“I know what those are, silly.” You smiled, “I meant like‒why did you get them? Is there a story? or did you just see some action star with tattoos and think ‘yep, i’m getting one too’.” You explained.

Vasco’s lips pressed into a line for a moment before sighing. “Yes, there’s a story to them.” His answer is quiet, internally shivering as his mind replays his memories from middle school. You catch the way the corners of his mouth seem to turn down a bit, the way his brows furrow and he subtly inhales sharply.

“...we don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfy, I was just curious.” You softly say, a hand coming up to cup his face. Thumb brushing over his cheek which instinctively makes him nuzzle his face into your palm. “No, no, it’s fine. We can talk about it if you want to.” He quickly says, covering your hand with his.

“You sure? it’s fine really–”

“I’m sure.”

He stares at you firmly yet his gaze was also a window to his soul where you could see the vulnerability. You held his gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt but this is Vasco we’re talking about, he never goes back on his word.

“Okay then, tell me the story behind them.” You say. He moves your hand away from his cheek, guiding it towards one of the tattoos on his left arm. “This one covers up one of my scars from back in middle school.” He starts, recalling when the bullying started.

You listen intently as he guided your hand to where each vulgar tattoo that bullies carved into his skin were, all cleverly covered up by his tattoos. You felt the texture of the ink beneath your touch, the artistry and meaning imbuing each detail with life. Vasco leaned closer, allowing you to explore each tattoo fully, fingers gliding over each intricate design.

As your fingertips trailed over his skin, he observed you. Completely in awe of you, it made you giggle sometimes when you saw how in love he was with you. Often telling him that he probably feels that way because you’re his first love, his first everything.

Vasco’s hand held yours against his skin. "It’s funny," he said after a long pause. "I never talk about these. But with you… it feels easy."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, full of quiet understanding. "Thank you for sharing," you whispered, your voice as tender as the moment you both were in.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if sealing the connection between you. And in that silence, surrounded by the warmth of your shared breaths, the stories on his skin felt as much yours now as they were his.

You traced the lines of his tattoos again, mindlessly this time. You lay there, enveloped in the quiet, taking in the intimate space you had created.

The tattoos on his skin weren’t just marks of his past; they were symbols of his strength and determination. With each gentle brush of your fingers, you felt the connection deepen, a promise that you would stand by him through whatever life threw your way.

“Each tattoo…” Vasco said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “They remind me of where I’ve been and what I’ve overcome.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “And now they’re part of our story too,” you added, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“Exactly,” he replied, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. He shifted slightly, drawing you closer as if he wanted to shield you from the outside world. “I think of you every time I look at them. You give them a new meaning.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a warmth spreading through your chest. You nestled closer into his side, feeling safe and cherished. The vulnerability you shared in that moment was a thread that tied you together, weaving a tapestry of trust and love.

The world outside faded even further, leaving only the two of you and the stories etched in his skin, creating a cocoon of warmth and tenderness where nothing else mattered.

[skywalkerslvt]

in my professional opinion, i think sam is like such a bratty bitch like cmon man i know he got mad backtalk, but i also need to hear my other professionals opinion, over to you 🎤

a/n: 🎤 thank you zapernz. in my professional opinion, he needs the brattiness edged out of him. (btw i love getting asks from u theyre so fun to write)

CW: sexual content, bratty sub sam monroe, dom reader, orgasm denial, 763 words

Sam Monroe would push every button you had, fully aware of the consequences. He’d start with small jabs—smirking as he leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, the picture of defiance. “What’s the matter? You look tense. Rough day? Maybe I can help,” he’d say, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his eyes daring you to react.

As the day wore on, the pokes turned into full-on backtalk. Snide comments, smug little grins, and pointed remarks that had your patience fraying by the minute. And when you finally grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the bedroom, his cocky smirk only widened.

“Oh, is this my punishment? I’m so scared,” he’d sneer, even as you shoved him onto the bed. “What’re you gonna do? Lecture me? Please, this is cute.”

Your calm demeanour as you crawled onto the bed, straddling his hips, seemed to throw him off for just a moment—but not enough to stop the snark. His words faltered as your hands trailed down his chest, slipping beneath his shirt. “Still mouthing off?” you’d ask, voice low and dangerous.

“What, you’re gonna keep asking questions or—ahh—” His voice caught as you rolled your hips against his, grinding just enough to make his breath hitch.

“Finish that sentence,” you whispered, your tone razor-sharp. He squirmed, his bravado faltering for a split second before he plastered that cocky smirk back on his face.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, but his breath hitched again when your hand slid lower, palming him over his jeans. You could feel him hardening beneath your touch, and his attempts to maintain control were laughably transparent.

“Still talking,” you murmured, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his jeans, sliding them down his hips. He lifted them just enough to help you, but the moment you leaned back to rake your eyes over him, he was back at it.

“Gonna take all day, or—fuck—” His taunt dissolved into a sharp gasp as your fingers brushed over him, light and teasing, through the thin fabric of his boxers.

You leaned close, your lips just grazing his ear. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it.” Your hand moved slowly, torturously, up and down, the friction just enough to make his hips jerk.

“J-just saying you’re taking your sweet—shit—time,” he managed, though his voice was trembling now, his cock straining against the fabric as you continued your maddeningly slow pace.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got all the time in the world,” you replied, your tone dripping with mock sweetness as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down with deliberate slowness. His breath caught, his hips lifting instinctively to help you, but his mouth was still running.

“This supposed to scare me?” he muttered, though his voice was weaker now, his cock twitching under your gaze as you wrapped your hand around him.

Your grip tightened slightly, just enough to make him gasp, and you started stroking him in slow, deliberate motions. His cocky remarks faltered as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his jaw. “You were saying?”

For a moment, he looked like he might try another retort—but then you slowed your movements even more, your thumb brushing over his tip in a way that made his entire body tense. His head fell back against the pillow, a shaky moan escaping him, and for the first time, he seemed to realize what you were doing.

“Wait—don’t stop,” he said, his voice breaking into a whine as you pulled back slightly, your hand stilling completely.

“Oh, so now you’re asking nicely?” you teased, your tone light but cutting as you hovered over him. “What happened to all that attitude, Sam? No more smart remarks?”

He let out a desperate little whimper, his hips jerking up as if chasing your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his voice shaky now, his cock twitching against nothing as you kept him on the edge.

You smirked, brushing your lips against his ear. “What’s that? No backtalk now? That’s what I thought.”

He groaned, his hands gripping the sheets as he tried to hold back the wave of frustration and need threatening to overwhelm him. “Please,” he begged again, his voice barely more than a whisper, and you couldn’t help but grin, savoring the sight of him completely undone beneath you.

“Next time,” you murmured, your hand brushing over his cheek before pulling back entirely, leaving him gasping and trembling on the bed, “maybe you’ll think twice before mouthing off to me. Or maybe you won’t. Either way, I’m going to have fun.”

[whyse7vn]

BREAK -

[ot7 x reader]

PEACE AND LOVE 😁💗

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jk: guys i’m lost ☹️

jimin: like emotionally??

tae: or sexually?

jk: woah um

idk anymore

jin: probably psychologically

yoongi: what’s new?

namjoon: jungkook you are in your kitchen

y/n: can confirm he is in the kitchen.

yoongi: loser

jin: what’s with the punctuation lmao

jk: woah i am in our kitchen

how did i get here

good morning guys ^0^

jin: it’s 7pm?

y/n: he’s hungover.

jk: yeah T-T

jimin: not surprised drank jin’s body weight in alcohol yesterday

jk: there was a lot going on :((

yoongi: so you result to alcoholism?

namjoon: it’s better than resulting to violence!!!

y/n: hoseok can’t relate.

hobi: i said i’m sorry 😓

jin: jimin i’ve thought about it and i really think you’re projecting when it comes to this weight thing

jimin: project a vegetable

jin: project a cure for the body issues you CEARLY have

namjoon: guys

jk: ants playing ddr in my head rn

i’m so upset

also how do i take about a loan?

i want a loan

namjoon: jungkook you do not need a loan

jk: ok

i’m sorry

namjoon: jungkook you better not be crying right now

jk: i’m not crying

y/n: he is crying

but that is not important rn.

can we talk about yesterday because what the fuck?

tae: YESSS i’ve been waiting for this

whoever wants the video of hobi punching the shit out of jaehyun you have to me pay at least 4k

namjoon: what is wrong with you

tae: if you want it with sound i have to charge extra

tae changed the gc name to “HOBI GOT HANDS”

y/n: not funny.

namjoon: taehyung please

jin: can’t believe hobi fr punched him

yoongi: i can

hobi: y/n you still mad??

jin: she’s using punctuation

she’s furious ☠️

jimin: sHe’S fUrIoUs 🤓☝🏼

who tf says that

jin: OHMYGOD GET OF MY DICK FOR ONE SECOND I’M BEGGING

jimin: sHe’S fUrIoUs 🤓☝🏼

tae: is she fast too lmao

y/n: shut the fuck up taehyung

tae: okay!

y/n: my boyfriend is fine btw

if any of you actually care

yoongi: don’t

hobi: i’m sorry

y/n: you laughed after you made him bleed

yoongi: didn’t you laugh too lol??

y/n: OKAY I DID A LITTLE

but that’s before i realised hoseok hit him for real

jin: you can hit someone for fake?

tae: you can watch her smile fall after the second punch in the video it’s really funny actually!!!!!!!

y/n: didnt i tell you to shut the fuck up?

tae: you did

i’m sorry

shutting up

like rn ong 🙏🏼

🤐

jin: ?

jimin: it means on god

jin: stop talking to me

jimin: sorry just making sure you got it

slang sure has changed since 1781!!!

jin: 1781????????

jk: omg that’s that one hamilton song

hobi: there is no hamilton song called 1781

jimin: are we talking about the 1975

tae: the what

hobi: aren’t they white?

tae: they????

jimin: HAMILTONS WHITE????

yoongi: the real one is

jimin: there’s a fake hamilton??

tae: hamilton a they/them?

namjoon: you can’t say that

y/n: why are we talking about hamilton?

tae: why can’t i say that?

am i pissing off the feminists? ☠️☠️☠️

namjoon: this has nothing to do with feminism

jin: i’m a feminist

tae: did my they/them hamilton question offend you??

jin: tf does that even mean

jimin: born in 1066 doesn’t even know what pronouns are

jin: fuck you and ur proverbs

y/n: he literally said pronouns

tae: i’m a prosexhaver

yoongi: you have stds

hobi: personally i would like to shoot taehyung

jk: sex haver????

jin: virgin

y/n: he makes me sick

jimin: oh i HATE him

namjoon: deep breaths

tae: ???

wtf

why did you all just turn on me like that?

guys are you jealous of my sex having abilities?

everyone be honest now

y/n: you clearly don’t know what shutting the fuck up includes

tae: ok i’m sorry

never speaking again starting in like

an hour

i promise

y/n: how about now

tae: 30 mins?

y/n: kys

tae: stop flirting omg 🤭

yoongi: idiot

jk: WAIT OMG?

HOBI FR PUNCHED JAEHYUN??/! ö

jin: you were literally there??

jk: I THOUGHT THAT WAS A DREAM

OHMYGOD

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

HEHEHE

OMG HOBI THATS CRAZY

UR CRAZY

hobi: i’m not crazy

jimin: like crazy

y/n: you think it’s funny??

jk: NO

no

absolutely not wtf

????????

hoseok why would you do that?

that’s so messed up

shame on you really

shame on you

jimin: ur pathetic actually

namjoon: anyways hobi it was wrong of you to result to violence just because you were jealous

please apologise

y/n please accept his apology you know hobi wouldn’t never want to upset you on purpose he loves and cares for you deeply

kiss and make up guys

you don’t want to fuck up our group dynamic do you???

no?

didn’t think so!!

wow would you look at that we are all friends again

smooth like butter 🧈 💛

dynamite 🧨

borahae in this bangtan shit for life 💜💜

y/n: kys

jk: KISS???????????

jin: hobi was jealous?

hobi: NO?????????

yoongi: interesting

jimin: yeah that’s crazy

hobi: I WASN’T I SWEAR

namjoon: you weren’t???

oh

my fault

hobi: yeah your fault

maybe ur just projecting lol

jimin: yeah calling bullshit

if you didn’t punch him out of jealously

what did you punch him for???

tae: it’s cuz he was like feeling her up right in front of our faces right??

have he no respect?

jk: respect no he have?

tae: stop

jk: sorry

tae: actually nvm you were agreeing with me

agree some more

jk: i agree some more

tae: see?

jk: see??

tae: what a nasty pervert freak of a man

namjoon: look in a mirror

jimin: that’s crazy because i wasn’t talking you

tae: right joon shut the hell up

jk: zip it

jimin: you as in YOU taehyung and jungkook

i was talking to hobi not you guys

jk: oh

tae: we talk for hobi

hobi: no you don’t

tae: we ARE hobi

jk: i’m not hobi

or am i?????

ohmgod am i???

yoongi: ur all so annoying

y/n: ok hoseok wasn’t jealous are you stupid??

why would he be jealous?????

hobi: right!

i was drunk

jin: i swear you didn’t drink last night??

hobi: ur not helping?

jimin: i’m telling you it’s bullshit

tae: ok now let’s talk about how that was coolest thing hobi’s ever done in his life should of tagged me in fr fr

i would of gone crazy no joke 💯💯

we would of got him so bad hobi

#dreamteam 😍

namjoon: taehyung

tae: what?

i’m just saying

y/n: say one more thing

tae: i’m sorry

sorry

SORRY 😢

jimin: so the plot thickens!!

hobi: there is not plot

there is no jealousy

jin: ok why did you punch him then

hobi: i was drunk i said that already

jin: you DIDN’T drink

guys why is he lying to us

do you not trust us???

come on step into my office hoseok

open up to daddy jin

y/n: ew???

jin: ew?

y/n: that’s what i said

jin: but in spainnnnnn

y/n: stop

jin: 🫰🏻

yoongi: hobi do you want to fuck y/n?

hobi: what

yoongi: answer the question

y/n: yoongi wtf???

namjoon: yoongi please

jk: DO NOT ANSWER DO NOT ANSWER DO NOT ANSWER

hobi: i’m not answering that wtf

jimin: i think we all know his answer anyways

yoongi: yeah

but i want him to say it

tae: waitttt kinky

say it hoseok 😋😋😋

namjoon: can we not rn…

jimin: tae you definitely need to add him to ur stupid little group chat

tae: ummmm

it’s not stupid it’s real actually

jk: real men only!!!

tae: hobi are you a real man?

hobi: what

tae: are you real??

hobi: yeah

jk: say it

hobi: say what?

tae: i’m real

hobi: i’m real?

tae: REAL UGLY

HAHAHA

jk: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

hobi: u guys are so unfunny it hurts

tae: got you lolz

namjoon: taehyung stop talking

tae: forgive me? 🥺

hobi tried to come for what we stand for

hobi: i literally didn’t???

it was jimin

jin: hey wait what group chat??

let me in what the hell

yoongi: no

jin: ur in the gc too??

yoongi: am i?

jk: he is

tae me joon and yoongi 💓

namjoon: can you stfu.

jin: EVEN JOON??????

let me in or ur all going to hell

y/n: yeah me too wtf??

tae: jin

between me and you

your invite may arrive soon

i’ve seen your eyes wondering as of late

jin: ????

what

yeah ok nvm!

i think i’ll live not being in ur gc

and if this is about what i think it’s about

count me out

jk: aw man :/

tae: wow so many haters in this life

you’ll regret this

you’ll be begging on ur knees to join real soon

y/n: WHAT ABOUT ME HELLO????

jk: hiiiiiii ^_^

y/n: ykw nvm idc

yoongi: you do

y/n: not

yoongi: yeah ok :3

namjoon: there is no group chat

jk: ??? yes there is don’t be silly joon 😂😂

namjoon: OHMYGOD LEARN HOW TO TAKE A FUCKING HINT

can we move on

wtf why am i asking you guys

i’m the leader

we are moving on.

y/n: THIS IS SEGREGATION

jk: ohmygod is this a race thing???

namjoon not again

jimin: LMFAOOOSJDJJK

y/n: i mean i was talking about gender

but this could be a race thing

is this a race thing????

jk: OHMYGOD NAMJOON UR A SEXIST TOO????

i thought that was just jimin

jin: no ur right

jk: oh ok!

jimin: can you stop

i’m NOT a sexist ok

but hobi DID punch jaehyun

hobi: wtf is ur problem

jimin: sorry i needed to put everyone back on track xx

hobi: there is no track

jimin: no there is a track and i put everyone back on it

jk: train track

yoongi: lay on one?

tae: LAYOVER YES

i know that album

it’s really good

indigo flopped

namjoon: shut up shut up shut up shut up

tae: so like gf wyd rn? *kicks feet giggles*

yoongi kicked tae out of “HOBI GOT HANDS!!”

yoongi: not sorry

jk: it’s ok i forgive you

yoongi: shut up

jk: ok

y/n: he told me we should go on a break…

jk: i had a break on my bike once

then it broke

so i had a breakless bike

and i couldn’t brake

so to stop i would just pedal into walls

my bike to this day has no breaks it makes me sad

namjoon: jungkook please just get a new bike

and y/n i’m sorry to hear about your break

jk: ok >.<

y/n: thanks ig

namjoon: wait

??????

break

ur on break

with jaehyun?

y/n: no i’m on a break with fucking usher

jin: A BREAK?????????????

jimin: WOAH WAIT HOLD ON

yoongi: is he fucking stupid???

jk: USHER???

hobi: no jungkook she’s talking about jaehyun

jk: oh

hobi: jaehyun

nct jaehyun your friend jaehyun.

jk: OHMYGOD WAIT WHAT WHATWHENDHDHDJDJD WHAT OHMYGOF OHMSYSH DKEJEJDJG SISHDJXMISSHENDODJDIDUSJEJFJDKDKFNDBDNDMDNDFNFNFNFMMF

jk added tae to “HOBI GOT HANDS!!”

jk: LOOK

tae: hey guys u missed me 😁?

jk: LOOK

tae: looking

jk: LOOKSKKSKSKDKDKDDKK

tae: holy shit

y/n are you ok??

jimin: THIS IS INSANE

y/n: yeah fuck him and fuck his break

yoongi: i’ll break his neck

jin: jungkook get ur friend

jk: JSNDNDNNDJJDJDFJNDJDJDJDJD ahshshxhdnxndnxnd JAJSHDBSBDBXBXNXNXJXJXJZHHXHXBSHSHSHXHZJZJXJXJXJJXJXJJDD SHSNDNDNDNDNXNDJJDXJXJXJX DHXJDJDNDNDNXXNZN

tae: woah

hobi: but are you like actually ok???

y/n: never been better

namjoon: no fr it’s ok if you’re upset

y/n: i’m not upset

jimin: wow

so like

wow

idk how to comfort people namjoon say something

namjoon: there there?

jin: chin up!!!!!

jk: I AM ALSO SINGLE THIS IS SUCH A COINCIDENCE LIKE WE ARE BOTH SINGLE AT THE SAME TIME WOW LIKE YEAH UR ON A HREAK BUT UR BASICALLY SINGLE THATS REALLY CRAZY LIKE HAHA LOL WE ARE SINGLE LOOK AT US TWO SINGLE PEOPLE WHO HAPPEN TO LIVE TOGETHER MAYBE WE SHOULD IDK LIKE HEHEH JSJSJJSJDJ

yoongi: when are we jumping him??

i can leave now

y/n: shut up

yoongi: you coming over?

y/n: no?

yoongi: boo

y/n: i’m going to hobi’s

hobi: you are??

jimin: to fight or fuck??

y/n: shut up

jin: that’s crazy

hobi broke up a happy home

hobi: i’m genuinely so sorry

i didn’t mean to

y/n: wasn’t even ur fault don’t apologise

he was a acting weird for a while

wanted to live in denial but it’s whatever idc!!!!!!!

tae: you clearly do care and that’s ok

y/n: i DON’T

tae: y/n

y/n: taehyung

jimin: ew like why is taehyung being all serious i hate it

tae: cuz this is serious

y/n: it’s not

tae: it’s ok to be upset

y/n: i know and i’m NOT

tae: y/n

y/n: i’m not upset omg????

stop being weird i’m like so ok it’s crazy

jimin: like crazy lolz

jin: that is the second time you’ve made that joke and it was just as unfunny as it was the first time you said it

jimin: why are you keeping tabs on me and what i say get a LIFE

jin: you make me want to kms

jimin: do it

jin: namjoon get him before i get violent

namjoon: guys can you see we have bigger issues going on rn

be serious for once

y/n: i’m fine

there is no serious issue

i’m ok

no tears

no noting

i’m fine ok? ok

tae: y/n

y/n: tae stop

ykw ur pissing me off

ur all pissing me off

y/n left “HOBI GOT HANDS!!”

hobi: oh wow

jin: i didn’t even do anything fr

jimin: i blame tae

yoongi: jaehyun is a bitch

jk: do you think she’ll let me kiss her now?

namjoon: jungkook shut up

tae do NOT message her

and yoongi do not even THINK about leaving your house rn

i think we need to have a group meeting or something

—

sorry this sucks i just needed a reason to get rid of jaehyun so we could move forward LMAO i’m sorry better things coming soon 😁🙏🏽

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @sopebubbles-replies @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin

[theotherbuckley]

Im in love with this fic and i need more

🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵

You're an amazing writer btw 🩷🪱

Thank you! I'm glad people are liking this fic 🥰

Here's 900 more words just for you <3

🦵 - Buck and Tommy meet at physio after the truck bombing

Tommy isn’t there at his next physio appointment — now only seeing his physiotherapist once every two weeks, unlike Buck who still has to see her every week. The session feels slower than normal; it always does when he’s alone. Bobby promised him that next time he would be able to come with, but today, there’s no one, not even Tommy, to chat with afterwards. 

Dr Mistry seems to sense his subdued mood and has taken to being far more cheerful than he can ever recall.

“Why are you so happy?” he asks, slumping down into his chair after she had given his leg a deep and rather unpleasant massage. 

Dr Mistry turns to him, shooting him a look which he doesn’t care to decipher. “You are quiet. It’s unsettling.”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, staring at his doctor. “Hey, I don’t talk that much.”

“You haven’t even complained one time.”

And okay, that’s fair, but still. 

“I’m just tired,” Buck tells her. It’s not even a lie. He is tired. He’s always tired. He’s just a little spacey today. He’s been feeling quite defeated lately. Sometimes, it feels like all of his hard work is for nothing. His leg still aches like bitch whenever the weather changes, and he only just managed to complete the full length of the bar unaided last session, far behind where he should have been at this point. He’s trying so hard to get better, to work again, but it doesn’t matter how much effort he puts in, it’s never enough. He’s never enough. 

And when there’s nobody with him to tell his brain to shut up, he gets stuck inside his head, and he doesn’t quite know how to get out of it. 

It’s exhausting. 

So he’s tired. He really, really is. 

It’s just a type of tiredness that he doesn’t think he can recover from. Not until his leg is recovered, at least. 

Dr Mistry looks at him for a moment, her eyes scanning over his face, hyperanalysing his expressions as though she can see right down into his soul, see all of those helpless thoughts running around in his head. “There’s doctors for that,” she says, and Buck doesn’t have to ask what she means. 

“I don’t need therapy,” Buck says back, a little too defensively. He’s probably lying, but he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s fine. He will be. It just takes time, isn’t that what everyone keeps saying?

“It’s not healthy to keep everything stuck inside. Sometimes it is good to let it all out,” she continues, ignoring his slight outburst. 

“I have people. It’s just— It’s hard when they’re not around.”

She nods in understanding but hands him a card anyway. “Just think about it.”

He takes the card begrudgingly and sticks it in his wallet, where he knows he’s not going to touch it again. He doesn’t need help. He just needs to be able to walk— to work. He’ll be fine after that. 

As soon as he gets home, he takes the card out of his wallet and stares at it. 

And then he texts Tommy. 

Buck: Have you ever seen a therapist?

Tommy: Hi Tommy how are you

I’m great thank you for asking

Buck: Yeah yeah

Answer the question

Tommy: I have

Buck: And? 

My doctor wants me to see one

But I don’t want to

Especially not after last time

I’m not that guy anymore

Tommy: Not what guy?

Buck: Not the guy who sleeps with his therapist

Tommy: I’m not sure if I should ask

Buck: Probably best

So..?

Tommy: Therapy helped me

I wasn’t a great guy before

Buck almost scoffs at his phone. Tommy the guy who drove him home and helped him up multiple flights of stairs, whilst injured, on their first meeting, wasn’t a good guy?

Buck: You? Be honest

Tommy: I wasn’t

Turns out repressing my sexuality and listening to what my father taught me is not a good combination

Hurt a lot of people because of it

But therapy helped

I’m comfortable being myself now

Buck has to pause at that. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it, he just didn’t really expect it. Maybe that’s not a good thing to say. He’s an ally, actually. The rainbow flag in his bio every June proves that. 

Buck: Wait

You’re gay?

Tommy: I am, yeah. Is that a problem?

Buck: No of course not! Men are hot.

Tommy: Mmhmm  

Buck: So you think I should do it?

Tommy: Do what?

Buck: See a therapist

Tommy: I don’t know, Evan

That’s up to you

But if your doctor suggested it, maybe you should listen

Buck: And I don’t need to sleep with them?

Tommy: You definitely do not.

Even after the conversation, Buck can’t bring himself to dial the number on the card. His stomach rumbles after a while, and Buck looks at his watch, mildly surprised to find it past 3 pm. He drops the card on the coffee table, and hobbles to the kitchen with his cane to make himself some food. 

When he sits back down, his mind is focused on queer history, and he finds himself googling pride and forgetting all about therapy. It wasn’t like he needed it anyway.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

UNDERTALE ASK BLOG - PRESENTATION

Hello! I’m Myfanwi, 27 years old and adoptive parent of two chinchillas, Thor and Mjöllnir. I have ADHD and I'm currently struggling to have my autism diagnosis.

I’m a French writer (she/they, I don’t care), so my English might be weird sometimes, but I’ll do my best. I’m currently looking for a job in France, and failing it a lot.

I started this blog on February 3rd 2021, and we're still here and active. I'm taking Undertale (canon and AU) headcanon requests from people and answering them with my characters.

The askbox is always open so don't hesitate to participate!

I also write Undertale French fanfiction here and here.

1 - You can ask whatever you want, except heavy sexual things. If I'm not comfortable with an ask, I will say it. You can send as many asks as you want. The askbox is always open, I don't close it.

2 - I’m ok with angst and touchy subjects. I’m also very very LGBT+ friendly (I’m aroace and enby btw).

3 - I don’t do match-ups except during some rare events. I don't do RP interactions (= answering people asking things to the characters directly), only headcanons (= writing things ABOUT the characters).

4 - Please, select a maximum of 12 characters per ask. The character list is right under this section. By default, if not mentioned, I’ll go with the main skeletons: Undertale, Underfell, Underswap, Horrortale, Swapfell & Fellswap Gold Sans & Papyrus.

5 - You can ask for interactions between several of my characters too, even if they are from different alternative universes. For convenience, they are magically all living in the same world. You can have more info right here [The link is coming soon, I'm reworking on it].

6 - I'm fine with personal questions and asks about my fanfictions too!

7 - Fanarts and fanfiction are welcome. Don't hesitate to tag me so I can reblog your art!

8 - If you find a spelling mistake, don't hesitate to point it out. I prefer these comments on recent posts, as I have more than 2000 posts on my blog and can't physically review them all.

Click on a name to get more info about the character!

If there's no link attached to a character's name, please refer to this old post for a small description. The character sheets are currently being rewritten, but it takes time.

Undertale : Sans, Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore, Undyne, Alphys, Frisk (Adult), Chara (Adult), Mettaton, Gaster, Grillby, Muffet, Burgerpants, Asriel, Flowey, Gerson.

Underfell: Sans (Red), Papyrus (Edge), Undyne (Storm), Alphys (Amy), Grillby (Ash)

Underswap: Sans (Blue), Papyrus (Honey), Undyne (Abigail), Alphys (Savage)

Horrortale: Sans (Oak), Papyrus (Willow), Toriel (Old Lady), Grillby (Ember)

Horrorswap: Sans (Nugget), Papyrus (Pumpkin)

Horrorfell: Sans (Copper), Papyrus (Chief)

Horrorswapfell: Sans (Bear), Papyrus (Tiger)

Swapfell: Sans (Nox), Papyrus (Rus)

Fellswap Gold: Sans (Wine), Papyrus (Coffee)

Outertale: Sans (Moon), Papyrus (Sun)

Dancetale: Sans (Rambo), Papyrus (Salsa)

Dancefell: Sans (Rumba), Papyrus (Tango)

Farmtale: Sans (Sam), Papyrus (Ben)

Mafiatale: Sans (Demon), Papyrus (Creeper)

Mafiafell: Sans (Fang), Papyrus (Torpedo)

Other skeletons: Ink, Error, Disbelief!Papyrus (Delta), Dustale!Sans (Dune) - Killer!Sans (Killer)

HELPFUL LINKS

Characters birthdays

Characters pets

MASTERPOSTS

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42

FANFICTIONS

Completed - The Doppelganger [Underfell & Horrortale] | Out of the closet [Undertale] | 7 a.m. in the neighborhood [Undertale]

In progress - Horrortale: Rotten Apple [Horrortale] | What is best for humankind [Undertale prequel] | No weakness [Underfell] | Remember the good days [Undertale] | A heart in a cage [Undertale]

[dingus11111]

‼️HOTTIE ALERT‼️

BORO SMUT <3

Includes: Sub!Bottom!Male reader, Dom!Top!Boro, Sadist!Boro, Masochist!Reader, CIA!Reader, bondage, sexual torture, nipple play, edging, BLOOD, choking, videotaping, butt plugs, impact play, CBT, subspace, biting, knife play, use of “sir” for Boro, and probably more shit.

DUB-CON/NON-CON

FEM/FEM ALIGNED DNI!!!!

VERY FUCKING LONG FIC BTW!!!

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

SMACK!

A loud slap echoed the darkly lit, dingy, concrete room.

Your face was red and slightly swollen. You were half naked with your shirt off, but your pants and boxers were still on. You had a blindfold on, and couldn’t see anything.

Your breath hitched as a large hand grasped your cheeks and forced your face to lift up to face the man doing this to you.

“I’ll ask you again… What is your real name, and who are you working with?”

Your mouth wasn’t gagged, so you took this chance to show him that you would never tell him. You gathered as much spit in your mouth as you could manage and spat on his face, hoping you had hit him with it.

Unfortunately, you did hit him.. DIRECTLY in the face. This made him angry. REALLY angry.

He growled in aggravation before stepping back to think about his next move.

After a minute or so, he took off your blindfold. As the blindfold fell to the floor, you looked up at your captor. The well known Boro Polonia had you tied up to a chair and at his mercy.

He quickly grabbed a gag from the table next to him, and put it on you.

“You’re cute for an traitor. Since you didn’t answer my questions, I believe I’ll have to use… harsher… methods.” Boro smirked softly.

You raised a brow, curious as to what he meant. That curiosity was wiped off of your face as he punched your jaw to knock you out. Everything went black and your body went limp.

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Your eyes flickered open. You felt cold. Too cold. A shiver ran through your body before you really started to take in your surroundings.

Your hands were chained to the ceiling, and you were stripped naked.

You began to feverishly look around and thrash at your confines. A cry for help escaped your lips, but it was muffled due to the gag in your mouth.

After a minute or more of struggling, you heard footsteps. Your eyes darted to the person who had entered the room.

It was Boro.

He approached you agonizingly slow, allowing you to take in the fact that his eyes were on your body.

You began to struggle again, screaming against the gag.

Boro chuckled at your anger and fear. His hand caressed your torso, starting at your sternum and making his way down to your lower abdomen. Your breath hitched as his hand got dangerously close to your flaccid dick.

He looked down and then back up at your face, a smug grin painted on his.

“Now, let’s begin…” He strode over to a table next to where you were confined and grabbed something.

The room was too dimly lit for you to tell what it was. As he leisurely strolled back to his spot before he moved, you noticed multiple objects in his hand. You shook your head in objection and began to wiggle again.

“Shut up!” He yelled as he slapped you across the face hard. A muffled groan fell from your lips. A small amount of what felt like electricity rushed to your penis.

“Good..” Boro continued.

He began to show off the items that were in his hand.

“A whip to pry information out of you… A sounding rod for later, and lastly..” He smiled.

“A knife.” His eyes burned holes into your body, causing the slightest blush to appear on your cheeks.

Your cock was now half hard and Boro liked that. He smirked, enjoying seeing you like this, and even starting to grow hard himself.

After a minute or so of him peering at your body, he stepped back and put two of the three items down on the table. The object remaining in his grasp was none other than the whip.

“I’m going to remove your gag, and you will tell me what you know. If you do not comply, I will hurt you until you do.” Boro announced with a straight face.

He walked up to you and removed your gag. Spit dripped out of your mouth due to being gagged for so long.

You noticed that the whip in his hand was not a normal whip. It was a type that was designed for torture and could even kill you in severe cases. It had metal beads at the end that were followed by some knots as well. You shivered slightly.

“Tell me what you know.” He said coldly.

You glared at him before speaking.

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you anything.”

His brow furrowed.

“So be it.” He muttered.

CRACK!

The first lash of the whip ran diagonally across your torso, leaving a deep-ish gash. Blood trickled from the wound, staining the concrete floor below you. You were paralyzed in shock. Nothing could come out of your mouth. Not a single sound. Tears welled up in your eyes from the pain.

WUH-PSHH!

Another lash. Another wound across your torso. The pain was immense, and for some reason.. your cock was fully hard. The pain of the whip and the shame of being hard mixed together causing your mind to spiral. You couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know, yet you wanted this to stop. To stop your shame. Your pain. Your pleasure that felt wrong to feel. Tears trickled down your face and your mouth opened.

“Please stop… no more! I- I’ll tell you what you want to know…”

You closed your eyes in guilt. You were betraying the CIA.

Boro paced up to you and looked down and your hard dick.

“Hmm.. It seems that, deep down, you want me to keep going.” He snickered.

You shook your head rapidly, clearly signaling that you didn’t want to be whipped again.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know.. just please no more whipping.” You cried.

Boro smiled at this.

“Go on. Tell me.”

You nodded. ‘I’m sorry everybody.’ You thought.

“My name is M/N L/N.. and I work for the CIA.”

Boro looked extremely pleased as you said this.

“Good boy…” He praised as he brought one of his hands over your whip lashes.

You winced in pain, yet your cock twitched and leaked a bead of precum. He noticed this and chuckled.

“You like the pain, don’t you M/N?” He teased as he brought his finger tips down your dick and lightly touched the tip.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he did so. He grinned and began to stroke you.

“Fuck.. Ngh…” You gasped out.

“I think you deserve a reward for betraying your colleagues.” Boro suggested.

He then stopped stroking your dick and stepped to the left of you. On the wall, there was a lever that caused the chains confining you to suspend you slightly. He pulled the lever and that caused you to fall to the ground. You groaned slightly. He walked over to you and unshackled your hands. He quickly pulled out some handcuffs and cuffed your hands together.

“Good.. Now, time for your reward.” A sweet, but slightly menacing smile appeared on his face.

“Kneel.” Boro ordered.

You obeyed, not wanting to be whipped again. Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing. He unbuckled his belt and then unzipped his pants. There was a massive bulge in his boxers. Your breathing got faster as you eyed his clothed cock.

He pulled over a chair that was close to him. He took off his boxers before sitting down. His cock was huge. He was about 8 inches and girthy. He noticed the surprise in your eyes and laughed.

“You know what to do, M/N.”

A smirk was painted on his face as you attempted to crawl to get closer to him. Your hands were cuffed behind your back. You breathed shakily before licking the underside from the base to the tip. You then began to kiss and lick at the tip. A groan escaped Boro’s lips. As you started to bob your head up and down on his length, you brought your hands up to stroke what you couldn’t suck. He didn’t like this and growled. He tapped your cheek a few times and you stopped sucking. Once he had your attention, he spoke.

“Ah ah ah.. No hands.” He nodded in acceptance as you continued to suck him off, this time with no hands.

Eventually, he wanted to feel more of your throat, but you wouldn’t go any further. He tangled a hand into your hair, and gripped it. He pushed down on your head so that you took him all the way to the base. Your nose was shoved into his trimmed pubic hair. You moaned softly. Boro smirked and continued to face fuck you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you gagged here and there. After a few minutes, you learned to relax your throat and breathe through your nose. A loud groan left Boro’s mouth as he had came into your mouth. He didn’t pull his dick out of your throat.

“Swallow all of it. You will take what I give you with appreciation for it.”

You swallowed all of his cum. The salty and bitter taste staying on your tongue, but for some reason, you wanted more.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled his cock out of your mouth. He was still half hard. You looked up at him, waiting for his next move.

He got up and stripped himself of his remaining clothes; that being his shirt. You blushed hard as you saw his defined biceps and toned abs.

“Get up.”

You obeyed. Once you were up, he nudged you over to the table that had numerous…devices… on it. He pushed them away and laid you on it. After he made sure that you were secure on the table, he grabbed a camera he pushed out of the way before. He set it up on a stand behind you so that when your face hung off the table, it would catch your face. And not just that, it would get EVERYTHING.

Boro walked back to his spot beforehand and smiled.

“Hello.” He greeted the camera.

“As you can see, I have one of your agents here.”

As you heard those words, you flushed in embarrassment. He was going to send this video to the CIA. The camera could see your body. Your hard cock. Your blushing face.

“For every minute that you do not rescue him, I will test his limits. I will push past them and ultimately break them.”

As he finished his sentence, you cried out. He had suddenly pushed his dick inside of you without any prep or lube whatsoever. You wanted to cover your mouth and stop the moans spilling from it, but your hands were handcuffed behind your back.

You moaned in both pain and pleasure as he began to thrust in and out.

“I don’t know.. I don’t think you should rescue him. He seems to be enjoying this.” Boro snickered.

His hands held your thighs apart and pushed them back as he fucked you in a standing missionary position.

“Aaahh… fuck.. Boro!~” You couldn’t help but moan his name.

He smirked at this.

“He’s really enjoying this.” He said to the camera.

Suddenly, he pulled out, and flipped you so that you were bent over the table. You looked confused as he did this.

“Wha-“ You were cut off as he thrusted back inside of you harshly.

He pounded into you, and the camera caught all of your faces of ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back as he hit your prostate.

It felt so fucking good for being so fucking wrong.

You started to go into subspace. Only being able to focus on the pleasure. His large dick and the way it felt inside of you. Drool seeped from your open mouth.

SMACK

He spanked you hard. This immediately woke you up from your trance. Your cock twitched from the pain.

“We’re going try something fun, okay?” He chuckled.

You couldn’t see behind you as he picked up a knife that was moved to the side and a sounding rod. He was nice enough to lube up the sounding rod before putting it against your tip. Your eyes widened as you realized what it was.

“W-wait!!” You begged.

He disregarded your please for mercy as he shoved it into your urethra in one go. You screamed in pain, only the slightest bit of pleasure filling the back of your head.

You breathed heavily, thinking it was over as he began to fuck you again. Boy, were you wrong…

Remember the knife he picked up? Well, he’s gonna use it.

As he continued to plow into your tight ass, he brought the knife up to your lower back.

“Want me to make you mine, baby?” He asked quietly so that the camera wouldn’t pick up the noise.

You nodded, thinking he would cum inside of your or something among the lines.

He grinned maliciously as he slowly began to carve the name “Boro,” into your lower back.

“FUCK!” You screamed in agony.

Tears of pure pain streamed down your face. It hurt so fucking bad, but something about it had you feeling just a smidge closer to your orgasm.

You breathed heavily with occasional whimpers and moans echoing from your exhausted body.

Boro felt himself getting close as well. The knot in your stomach grew as you realized that you had a sounding rod in your dick. You took it upon yourself to beg.

“Please, sir.. Please let me cum!” You begged him.

“You may cum once I have finished.” He responded.

A small gasp left his lips, signaling his upcoming orgasm.

After a few more thrusts, he pushed as deep as he could inside of you and came.

“Fuck..” He groaned as he continued to fuck you through his orgasm.

You felt his hand creep towards your dick and start to teasingly tug on the sounding rod. He repeatedly pulled it halfway out and then quickly pushed it back in causing your hole to clench around his cock tightly. Eventually, he pulled it out and you came hard. Cum spurted out of your twitching dick as your back arched. You screamed out his name in doing so. A pleased smile spread across his face.

You breathed heavily once your orgasm was over.

“You think we’re done?” He asked, rasing a brow.

You gasped as he pulled out and quickly shoved a butt plug inside of you to keep his cum from spilling out. He then lifted you up onto the table so that you faced the camera. His hands then snaked around your torso towards their target.

Your nipples.

He began to pinch, tug, flick, and roll them.

It felt so odd, but so good at the same time. Your cock started to harden again. You wished you could hide your face from the camera.

Boro saw this pinched your nipples particularly hard and choked you, causing you to moan loudly.

He addressed the camera.

“Is this the type of employees you hire for the CIA? Sluts who can’t get enough of what they are given?”

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

FINALLY!! THAT WAS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR A MONTH AND A HALF.

ANYWAYS, THANK YOU FOR READING!! HAVE A GREAT DAY AND DON’T HESITATE TO REQUEST THINGS!!

-Charlie <3

[graceofagodswrath]

Ok ok ok your "Humans of Transformers franchise are space orcs" rant is out of this world.

I detest with passion when humans are reduced to pets and plot devices when instead the story could be about two alien species finding one another equally amazing/terrifying for their own respective reasons.

Here is my question: do humans and Cybertronians see how eerily similar they are? They have love of music, familial relationships, similar urban infrastructure, societal structure, financial systems, competitive entertainment, organized societies and war, colonialism, recreational intercourse, marriage...

Not to mention, why was it never addressed how similar both species look: bipedal, waists, noses, cheekbones, 5 fingers, chins, facial expressions and sense of aesthetics and beauty? Sure, humans have hair but in rather strategic places.

Veins and wires, blood and energon, metal and flesh, nanobytes and blood cells, Sparks and brain impulses, sexual organs...

Imagine Autobots arrive on Earth for the first time expecting some primitive cave-dwellers, only to encounter a less advanced mini-version of Cybertronian cities (New York, Singapore, London, Rome, Tokyo, Rio, Dubai...) and societies running on scientific, artistic and philosophical development which has no right existing on the ruthless, all-organic planet such as Earth is. Societes run by creatures who 4.000.000 (the duration of their war) years ago were hanging from the trees btw.

Autobots would be terrified.

Lemme make sure this response saves this time, cause it took me a minute to answer cause my first deleted and I had so much written I got unbelievably angry and refused to even look at the tumblr app.

But here we are.

So, this is EXACTLY what I have been thinking about for who k owe how long. It’s also the intro to this wack as fuck universe idea I’ve had in my head a while, and have kinda hinted at in my other works, but I’ve never gone into detail about.

And I still won’t.

Anyways, yes. It’s crazy that we backlit humans so much when any other sentient species is about. Transformers, TMNT, etc (I’m on a one track mind, feel free to jot down any other fandoms I can’t think of). The main theme of these stories? HUMANS SUCK. And that is severely unfair. People want to cry about how much our generation doesn’t give a shit anymore. Have you SEEN the media we feed kids???

That’s why I live Humans are Space Orcs so much. It really puts into perspective how unique and batshit our species is.

So, onto the Transformers vs humans concepts. The ONLY reason (forgoing technoism and general hate towards organics) cybertronians don’t see humanity as an imminent threat, or one in general, is because of size. WE BE SMALL AF. Can’t blame them, I get it. We do the same. Insects? Fuck them mfs.

But have you seen a botfly or tick burrow into your skin? The infection that comes form that? Have you seen ants jump a small animal as a colony and absolutely shred it? Or a spider only biting you, and the horror the venom causes (recluses and huntsman’s specifically). We have a good fucking reason for disliking these mfs.

But transformers? These are organic experiences. Worst they go through are rust infections, spark death, the works. They are not at risk the same way we are. That is why they view organics as small and inconsequential. They have no idea how hard we fight to simply stay alive.

And now the similarities. It’s understandable that they wouldn’t immediately recognize the physical, cultural, and psychological similarities between our species. Transformers are an incredibly diverse race, like any other. But specifically in physical form. Your average cybertronian holds a similar appearance to your average human. We tend to have the same features, just with different names. Eyes, noses, faceplates, ears, two arms, two legs. Sure that’s average for them too. But they are unique because of the fact that they have two forms. Vehicle mode. Their mode decides what they’re second mode looks like, which can create extreme diversity is appearance. Small, large, many limbed or not.

So the immediate similarities probably wouldn’t jump out to them in an odd way. There’s also the idea that because they’re so spread out in the universe, they’ve seen other organic races that are also similar. Pairs of every body part could be the common denominator among species.

That goes culturally too. War, love, music, government, politics, it’s all a natural form of sentient evolution. Another common denominator. It’s how it’s done that makes it unique. And the similarities between human and cybertronian culture is uncomfortably familiar.

I think that’s why cybertronians are seen being closest with humans rather than other species in the shows and comics (obviously because the audience is human and they need relation to characters but shhhh forget that for a sec). This is where the theories start.

Let’s say cybertronians begin to recognize the weird similarities between our species. The really, really weird stuff. The itty bitty details. Like:

- how we also mainstream kissing on the lips as the top tier romantic gesture.

- use verbal tone and cues for our language.

- have intensely complicated interpersonal relationships in the exact same manner.

- suffer from extreme mental health issues like depression, anxiety, PTSD (I totally headcannon that forms of adhd, autism, and ocd exist in cybertronian society, have y’all not seen my boy rodimus prime??)

- will also destroy each other in the name of our gods, until we have a common enemy.

That’s just the basics I could come up with. The only time I actually saw a moment where a transformer genuinely take a moment to realize that humans can be a threat, was in transformers prime. Episode 6 of beast wars (I think, correct me if wrong), where Miko beats the ever loving fuck out of an insecticon (I think) and upon Megatron hearing this, just goes blank Kubrick stare for a hot second. Man had an ugly realization that did not fit in with anything he had experienced his whole life.

AND THEY NEVER FUCKING ADDRESSED IT EVER AGAIN. Sick of this shit. Could’ve had the most badass character development, where the humans actually proved useful and did something (it would have fit Milo’s character so perfectly too) and scared the utter shit out of the transformers. BUT NO. They continue to be annoying as fuck.

One thing I loved about TF Prime was that it canonically turned Unicron into Earth. And humans came from the earth. Which relates humans beings and cybertronians so hard. Cousins Fr. We are the cybertronian equivalent of organics, and transformers the inorganic equivalent of humans. The individuality, the chaos, the culture, it clicks. There is so much material to really go into it.

But they never do. Don’t get me wrong, I love Transformers lord and just discovering more without humans being involved. We’re just annoying af at this point. But there is so much u tapped potential in transformers actually taking the chance to LEARN about us. But we’re just friends (pets) to these mfs.

That’s why I love TF Earthspark so far. Transformers ingrained into human culture because they’re not from Cybertron, and cybertronians having to adapt to human culture because they have no where else to go. Granted, it’s a kids show. There’s only so much they can do. But I’m excited for where it’ll lead. It really shows how much of threat and ally humans are, and how we are just as diverse as cybertronians.

I need to write another fic about cybertronians meeting humans their size from our world tho. Need to continue my old piece. Would give me so much life. Y’all help motivate me, college draining my ass.

[littlxpxtal]

True Blue

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

And it feels good

To be known so well

I can't hide from you

Like I hide from myself

February

Noah unbuckled his seatbelt before reaching over to cup my face and press a soft kiss on my cheek. He got out of the car and came over to the passenger side to open my door for me. We walked hand in hand to my front door, the motion sensor lighting up as we approached.

“I had a really good time tonight” I said, my breath fogging in the crisp air.

He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear and smiled.

“Me too. I’m going to be thinking about that filet for weeks.” He chuckled.

“Thanks for picking me up and everything. I should probably get inside, it’s late.” I took a step towards the door, and he reached out to grab my hand.

”Can we do this again?” He asked with pleading eyes. I nodded my head yes, just as Lucy swung the front door open.

”There you are!” She yells, pulling me into the house.

“I’ll text you” I said to him before she shut the door in his face.

”You’re unbelievable.” I scolded her, while taking off my jacket and boots.

“Who even is that guy?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest.

”His names Noah. We’ve gotten close this year and he finally asked me out. We usually just study together but tonight was our first date.” She rolled her eyes in response.

”He dosn’t seem like your type.”

”Okay, then what’s my type Lucy?”

”Blondes.” She stated matter-of-factory. I huffed in response, walking towards the basement door.

I contemplated fighting back, but I was exhausted from my day, so I just went downstairs. Finally laying down on my bed I checked my messages.

Sab:

Please tell me that’s who I think it is on your story lol

Rafe Cameron:

Noah McKinney? Really?

Kiara, Cleo & Sarah:

Y/N who is that mysterious MAN on your story????????

and why have we not heard a single thing about him

CRICKETS

they’re probably fucking rn

GET IT Y/N

I sighed, and decided to respond to the group chat with the girls first.

Hey, his name is Noah he goes to Kook academy w me lol. We got kinda close this school year and he asked me on a date so I said yes. That was technically my real first date like ever

TELL US EVERYTHING

Well we were studying for our history exam together since we have the same class together this semester, and he asked if I wanted to try out the new steak house that opened up on Willow Ave and I said yes. He picked me up, opened all my doors for me and even pulled out my chair for me when we sat down at the table. He picked up the check and the dropped me off at home. He kissed me on the cheek, I think he was going to make a move but my stupid sister cockblocked us. That’s about it

this is literally amazing news

He sounds like a true gentleman

Ya we wouldn’t know anything about that around here

So do you like him?

I’m still trying to figure that out I think. He’s a nice guy but I didn’t feel a spark like I’ve felt before.

Wait this is also news to me WHO HAS MADE YOU FEEL SPARKS

oh are you talking about that one time you and j hooked

KIE FUCK OFF

Y/N, Kie & JJ are fucking now btw

WTF I’ve missed so much

girl you never come down to the cut anymore

ya and my parents kicked me out so im basically living w JJ now

Ya his dad bailed btw

holy shit we need a major catch up ASAP. Can you guys come over tomorrow? Girls night ????????????

we’ll be there.

I swipe off of our chat and respond to Sab next

Yupppp its Noah lol

Sooo rafe’s out???

Lmao fuck off

After a few more minutes of letting Rafe’s text sit there, I finally respond.

Yea, we study together

He immediately responded.

that didn’t look like studying to me

study breaks are a thing

yea at a fucking steakhouse be real

some men are more chivalrous than others

his chat bubble appears, then disappears. After waiting a few more moments, with no response, i click my phone off and head to the bathroom to get ready. After returning, there was still no response from Rafe, but I did have a text from Noah.

Hey beautiful, I made it home. I had a great time, let me know when you’re free, I’d love to do this again.

I had a great time too, I’ll let you know!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With my parents on the mainland for business and Lucy staying over at a friends, I had the whole house to myself.

I set everything up in a cute valentines theme, with heart shaped flasks, cookies baking in the oven, an assortment of snacks and sweet treats on the main coffee table, 3 bottles of red wine and a lineup of romcoms ready. Before I knew it, the front door swung open, to reveal Kie, carrying two huge squishmallows and a blanket, Cleo carrying what I assume is both of their bags.

”Y/N” they screamed in unison. I ran up to them, squeezing them both as hard as I could.

”I missed you guys so much” I sobbed, tears immediately falling from my eyes.

”Now don’t cry miss girl. We’re here now, no need to worry” Cleo affirmed, planting a kiss to my forehead.

As if on cue, Sarah walked through the open front door, a bottle of wine in her right hand a bouquet of flowers in her left.

”There’s my girl!”

I let go of the girls and embraced Sarah.

“God I missed you”

”yea you’ve seen my brother more than you’ve seen me!” She jokes. I give her shoulder a slight push, a blush creeping along my teary cheeks.

Kiara, while putting the stuffed animals on the couch, whips around.

”You see rafe a lot?” She questions, raising an eyebrow.

”Not like a lot…. Let me have a drink or two and I’ll fill you in.” I say, fiddling with my hair.

”Gods I can’t wait to hear about this” Cleo laps her hands together and sits down on the couch.

The timer on the oven beeps and I walk over to the kitchen, Sarah following behind, getting a vase from the cabinet, where we’ve always kept them.

“I forgot how well I know this places” she giggles.

”I’m sorry I don’t have you over anymore, Im sorry I haven’t been able to see any of you guys really. I’ve been such a bad friend.”

”Dude your parents are tough.”

”Coming from you ie? Yours literally kicked you out!”

”they did it cus I started seeing JJ. And they gave me an ultimatum. I chose him.” She said with a soft smile.

“Mine said they wouldn’t help me with college.” I said, hanging my head low, embarrassment flooding my head, realizing how selfish my reasoning was.

”okay yea but you actually have a real future miss smarty pants.” Cleo chimes in, walking into the kitchen to join us.

”I guess. I think you made the right decision though Kie, JJ is a great guy,and I’m sure your parents will get over it.”

”yea and if they don’t. I honestly don’t care” she says shrugging her shoulders. ”Plus, you know me. I don’t really like being told what to do.”

”I think that’s the difference between me and you. Sometimes I can’t function unless im being directed.”

”yea but it keeps you out of trouble.” She responds, reaching into the drawer to get out a bottle opener.

“Speaking of … I heard what happened on the beach … with the turtles and Ruthie and everything.” I say, using a spatula to take the cookies off the baking tray onto a cooling rack.

”God don’t even get me started. You should’ve seen them Y/N, they all just stood there. Even fucking rafe and Sofia.”

I stood up straight and slowly turned my head.

”Im surprised he wasn’t with Carissa” I say, with a tone of annoyance in my voice.

”She was so last semester. Rafe always has a new girl on his side for each season.” Sarah grumbles, holding out her glass to Kie for her to fill. The thought of Rafe and Sofia hanging out in public was too humiliating to even process. The last time we had seen each other outside of school was New Years Eve. I made it a point to avoid any of the parties that have been thrown so I can focus on finishing out the year strong, and to avoid having to speak about what happened between Rafe and I that night. It was frustrating to think Sofia is Carissa’s replacement. I wasn’t even a placement to begin with, I was just there. Floating around, like I always have.

“So what are you going to do to get back at her?” I ask, wiping my hands clean on a rag, trying to avoid the comment Sarah just made.

”We’ve been cooking up something” Cleo says with a smirk.

”Yea but the boys want to handle it themselves. “ Kie says, rolling her eyes.

”the fuck are they gonna do pull another gun on them?” I say, gaining giggles in response from all three.

”Anyone want a cookie?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few rounds of the absurdly confusing card game Cleo tried teaching us, I felt bubbly and light from the wine I had been drinking.

“So Toppers with Ruthie now?” I ask, a slight hiccup escaping my lips.

“Yep. Well, as far as I can tell” Kie responded, placing a card down.

“Wait wasn’t he seeing Sab?” Sarah questioned. Cleo and I groaned in response to the card Kie put down, putting them ahead of us in the game.

I placed a card down and picked up another from the deck. “To be honest, i don’t actually know what’s even happened between them... they would just hang out at parties and she would stay back with him. I tried not to ask too many questions.”

The reality was, the more asked her about topper, the more I knew she would ask rafe. So I just left it alone, especially after she got mad at me for ditching her on new years.

Now that I think about it, I don’t even know who ended up being her new years kiss. Im assuming it wasn’t topper.

“Didn’t you go to his New Year’s party?” Kie asked, taking a sip from her cup.

“Uh yea, it was lame tho so I dipped pretty early.” Sarah started giggling, and I kicked her with my foot.

”What , what’s so funny?”

”Cus rafe just so happened to want to come back with my dad for new years. And he told me he ended up at toppers”

I can feel my face flush, as Kie & Cleos mouths drop open.

”Well, sounds like he came back for a special someone.”

”I have no idea what you guys are even talking about.” I say, finishing the last of my drink in a large gulp, standing up to get a refill.

“I caught Rafe FaceTiming her when we were in Bora Bora, so I can only assume he had quite the reason to leave a WEEK early”

”SARAH” I screamed from the kitchen.

“What! If it wasn’t such a big deal you wouldn’t be freaking out right now.”

”So you two…” Cleo asks with a smirk, tilting her head at me as I walked back in with a full glass.

”Look its nothing alright. When Sabrina and topper were.. doing whatever they were doing, I was always sucked into hanging out with them at parties. And we would just hang out. It’s obviously nothing serious, especially if he’s all over Sofia now.”

”So what happened between you two?” Kie asks, holding out her glass to get topped off by me. I fill her glass up and set the bottle down wit a sigh.

“Just a few hook ups. Nothing crazy. We see each other every once in a while. Usually when one or the other is bored. He seemed pissed about me hanging out with Noah yesterday though.”

”God is that why he was an asshole at dinner last night?” Sarah asks. I shrug m shoulders in response and look over to Kie & Cle, whose mouths are still hung open.

”And you’re okay with this?” Cleo asks Sarah. she laughs and puts her arm around my shoulder.

”I thinks he deserves better than Rafe, but it would be dope if we could be sisters. We’ve all been around each other since I can remember. If rafe didn’t suck so much I would throw them a wedding right now.”

”Alright bitch you’re drunk.” Kie says with a laugh.

”I’m serious though!” Sarah proclaims. “But can you tell us about Noah now?”

“I mean, he’s a really nice guy. Super sweet and all. He wants to go on another date.”

”This is awkwardly close to Valentine’s Day” Kie chimes in. I shrug my shoulders and bite my bottom lip.

”Yea, I told him I’d let him know when im free so I guess we’ll see.”

”Well do you want a boyfriend, or…” Cleo asks.

”I don’t know. But speaking of boyfriend… YOU AND POPE???? I HAD TO FIND OUT FORM INSTAGRAM” I shouted, practically leaping out of my seat. She swats her hands in the air and blows a raspberry through her lips.

”It’s not a big deal, it just kind of happened, ya know?” She says, using her hands to try and hide her face.

”Okay so you all three have boyfriends… I guess I have to get one now.” I proclaimed, taking a sip from my glass.

”Don’t rush into it though love, you need to find the right person for you.” Kie says, placing her hand on my knee.

I look around at the girls,flushed faces and pink lips from the wine we had been drinking.

”I love you guys” I say softly. Before I know it, im being tackled to the ground in a big group hug.

“We love you too, Y/N” Sarah says into my ear.

“And we always will” Kies muffled voice rumbles against my shoulder.

“Forever and ever” Cleo chimes in.

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tags: @ltristessedureratoujours