#like i feel so disrespected that he assumed that of me and then went off on me shaming me before i even had the chance to speak up at all

[stonesandswords]

my parents are such fucking jackasses. they always assume absolutely the worst in me and always jump to these insane conclusions about me based off these wild assumptions they make up and will confront me very aggressively about their assumptions and will harass and gaslight me when i’m tell them i have no fucking clue what they’re talking about.

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

[mntozakii]

sugar — lee haechan

pairing: haechan x female reader

tags: stepcest, age gap (6 years), unprotected sex, haechan is a little bit insane but it's fine ☹️

note: been having haechan brainrot so plz enjoy this

minors do not interact and all characters are in legal age

[unedited]

before your first encounter with the boy, his father has warned you that his son can be very mischievous. it turned out to be wrong because the haechan that you met was silent, you didn't have to know that he was actually angry. he believed that a pretty girl like you shouldn't be around men like his father, he knew that his workaholics father will neglect you in the future.

much to your delight, haechan warmed up and became closer to you since his father is always on a business trip. haechan just absolutely adore the way his father's young trophy wife showed up to his soccer games, coding competition, and took care of him like a good mommy. in return, he gave you a lot of affection and love. your sweet boy haechan who never disrespect you, listened to you more than his father, and indulged into your silly little hobbies. he didn't mind to follow around the store like a kicked puppy as you spend his father's black card.

haechan who can't be mean with you. at first, he wanted to make your life miserable but you were so kind and lovely to him. you think of him so fondly that it never crossed on your mind that he's taking advantage of you.

haechan who whines about his sore back so you will massage him and he finds it amusing that you laugh whenever he moans, if only you knew that haechan creamed his pants.

haechan who loves to share his food and feels his pupils dilate whenever your mouth opens nicely as he feeds you.

haechan who offers to do the laundry so he can steal your panties, he secretly touches himself with the flimsy silk.

to be honest, you weren't bothered with haechan's behaviour since you've seen how the boy acted around his relatives and friends. you assumed that it was only natural for him to be so attached with you, after all you're his new mother.

haechan has to thank his parents for making baby as his nickname because now he gets to hear you call him baby everyday.

"baby, don't forget to eat your breakfast"

"haechan baby, can you help me with the grocery?"

"good job baby, you're so smart"

four years went by and your sweet sunshine is no longer a pretty boy, he stood taller than you and looked intimidating than ever. however, he was still the same cheeky boy you've know. haechan attended law school, following his father's path. to be frank, it wasn't his first option but you had beg so prettily for him to listen to his father.

even though haechan was hundred miles away from you, he will still occasionally visit you. besides, he texted you everyday and updated you with everything. you knew the names of the professors that he hated, his pretentious classmates, and his roomate jeno.

"i want to see your face" haechan sent a selfie of him on bed with his messy brown hair.

"i'm on a date" you sent a selfie with his father which he replied with an eye roll emoji. you probably laugh at his choice of emoji but he genuinely felt pissed off. all he wanted was to see your face and he got a picture of the old man kissing your cheek.

"i miss having meals with you" haechan sent a picture of his pathetic dinner that consisted of ramen, few packs of sandwiches, and milk.

"my baby, please eat a proper meal" you sighed as you looked at his simple dinner, you'll remind your husband to pay extra attention to his allowance.

when haechan had few days off from school, he decided to suprise you by taking a flight home. upon his arrival, he was flustered to hear choked cries coming from your room. he knows that his father was home so he opted to peek from behind the door, his face turned into a soft frown when he saw your naked body on his father's lap.

"honey, please, i want to have a child with you" his heart burned with jealousy watching you hold his father's face as you cried, he never get to see your vulnerability before.

"i feel alone, the house seems so empty without haechan. it is a perfect timing for us to raise a child together, right?" his heart broke seeing your attempt to convince his father, haechan felt your frustration by the strong grip on the older man's shirt. he never know that you felt alone while he was away, he felt even worse when the accompany that you now wanted was in a form of a child.

"my sweetheart, i understand how you feel but can you wait for a few more months? once everything is settled at the firm, we will talk about this again" haechan had to physically control himself from letting a scoff, he knew that his father's promise meant nothing. the younger man headed to his room while he waited for his father to return to his office.

as soon as he heard the car left, he went outside to find you. his lips turned into a smirk when he saw you eating a pint of ice-cream, he was quick to attack you with a tight hug. you let out a shriek before hitting his chest when you realised it was haechan.

"haechan, you didn't tell me that you were coming home!" you reciprocated his hug and chuckled when the brunet pecked you on the cheek.

"i wanted to surprise you" he mumbled as he wiped the cream at the corner of your lips, he pulled you to the couch and kept you close to him. he wrapped his hand around your shoulder as he listened to you while the movie play mindlessly in the background.

"baby, have some" haechan smiled when you fed him the ice-cream. he found it very cute when you call him baby because he liked to take advantage of it, it almost felt like you will always forgive him for his mistakes.

haechan loved whenever you wear polo shirt especially if it was paired with a mini skirt. today, you were wearing his favourite white shirt paired with a midi skirt. you looked so beautiful, he can't help but to stare at your thighs through the slit of the skirt.

"why are you so pretty today? i want to play with you" his hand slid inside the skirt before he softly rubbed your inner thigh while maintaining eye contact with you. it wasn't unusual for haechan to be clingy but he should never touch you in that way.

"haechan, what are you doing?" your heart pounded heavily when his hand dangerously headed north.

"baby, your hand—" you tried to push it away but it was no use, his grip only tighten on your body. haechan leaned closer to leave wet kisses on your neck, he missed you so much.

"no— haechan, we cannot do this" your second attempt to shove him away failed since he was so much stronger than you, he didn't even budge at all.

"hmm, why can't we do this?" his mellifluous voice whined before he pulled you to his lap, his hands rested on your side as he eyefucked you.

"my father doesn't want to put a baby into you and i want to do the opposite of that, isn't that good?" his voice made the question sounded so innocent meanwhile in reality, he was talking about making you pregnant with his child. he must've overheard your talk with your husband, you wanted to believe that haechan was just confused with his feelings towards you.

"haechan, your father will get very mad at you" you mumbled as you reached for his hands, holding them tightly so he won't touch you again. haechan admired your effort to put him in his place, it was an adorable attempt. he easily pulled his hands away from you before carrying you to his room, he made sure to lock the door before cornering you to his bed.

"baby, baby, baby" he mocked the way your small voice always call for his name, he took off his shirt and sat on the bed. you can't help but to notice how different he looked now, his body was becoming lean and his features has developed into a handsome man. haechan held your hand as you stood still with guilt written all over your face.

was it your fault for spoiling haechan rotten until he thinks that he can get whatever he wants?

was it your fault for not creating a clear boundaries with your step son?

was it your fault for getting a little aroused with his little antics today?

"mommy, give me a chance to please you" haechan begged with the prettiest doe eyes ever, you are aware that you can say no, leave his room, and pretend that nothing happened but something inside you was thrilled to see more of him.

haechan grew impatient waiting for your reply, he decided to have you on his lap again before a brilliant idea popped out.

"you can tell me to stop and i will" haechan promised before he unbuttoned your shirt, he tried to read your expression but failed to do so. haechan chuckled seeing purple bruises all over your chest, you must had a steamy night yesterday.

"my father is a greedy bastard, isn't he?" he muttered before doing the exact thing that his father did to you last night, except haechan was aiming for your neck.

"baby, not on the neck, he will notice it" you pulled on his hair to take a look at his face, he seemed to be disappointed when he failed to mark you.

his hands gently groped on your tits and nipples, he alternated in between sucking, biting, and pulling on your hard buds. haechan felt his ego skyrocketed when you started to whimper and begged for more.

haechan positioned you to lay down comfortably on his bed before he took off your panties, he kept the skirt on because it looked lovely on you. haechan couldn't believe that he was finally staring at your naked body, he had been fantasizing this for years.

"such a pretty pussy" haechan praised you and chuckled when he noticed your hole clenched at nothing, he didn't know that you were already leaking wet.

"hmm, it's so tight, does he not fuck you at all?" haechan queried as he stuffed your hole with his middle finger, he moaned seeing you tighten around his digit. since he was eager to satisfy you, he added another finger and played with your clit using his other hand.

instead of making you reach your high, haechan kept on edging until you became so frustrated. he will rub your clit in the most delicious circles and stopped whenever you're almost close. the moment when he noticed your legs started to twitch, he will take his hand off your pussy and let you cry for more.

"haechan, don't be mean to me" you had to hold back a sob because you've been denied for so many times and it felt so painful. you tried to touch yourself but he gently smacked your clit as a warning, he wanted to see you come on his cock instead of his fingers. he got on top of you and let your legs rest on his shoulders, he gave a few kisses on your calf before pulling out his dick.

"i prepped you so well, you should be able to take it like a good girl, right?" he rubbed the tip on your entrance and slightly pushed the tip to elicit another moan from you.

one thing that haechan had always dreamt off was kissing you, he had various imagination to kept him on edge whenever he jerked off. he used to imagine fucking you on the mattress that you share with his father, he also fantasized about fucking you in the kitchen too. today, he will do everything that he wanted for so many years.

haechan bit his lip as he slowly pushed himself inside your warm cunt, it felt so fucking good that he wanted to cry. haechan leaned closer to kiss your lips and giggled when he tasted the lip gloss, you had put it on him for fun before but it tasted so much sweeter on your lips.

"baby, what's so funny?" you asked then laughed when he shrugged it off and hid his face on your chest as his hips kept on thrusting into your poor hole.

"this is better than everything i used to dream off" haechan admitted before pulling you into another kiss, you realised that the brown haired boy liked to be messy when kissing. he was so desperate and wanted to swallow you whole if he could, he slowly trailed down to your neck and started to suck and bite on it.

"baby, be gentle with it" you reminded him as you caressed his hair, you admitted that he was doing so well and it scared you. the younger boy decorated your neck with fresh red marks before he intertwined your hands together.

"i'm going to fill you up with my seed, get you pregnant with my child, that'll make you a real mommy" haechan whispered before he continued to fuck you real hard, every each of his thrust hits your cervix and drove you to madness.

"baby, no— haechan, you have to pull out" your hands weakly push him away but it only fueled him to pound your hole mercilessly, he knew that you were close and he wanted to come together. a few more penetration and haechan felt your walls contracted tightly around his veiny cock, he shot ropes of warm semen inside your pussy.

you can't help but to whine at the warm feelings inside you, haechan panted softly as pulled you into a tight hug. he caressed your messy hair and adored the marks he left on your body.

"did i do a good job, mommy?"

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie sometimes went quiet.

Wayne noticed it after Eddie moved in. He didn't do it as much when he was little and Mary would bring him round, but here he was at ten years old completely silent. When Eddie was little Wayne assumed the boy was just shy, but now that he lived with Eddie he knew that sometimes a whole week would pass with not a peep from the young boy. M

The doctor said it might be a trauma response, might just be something he would do from time to time, either way, Eddie Munson, one of the loudest and dramatic kids Wayne had ever met would still be him, just nonverbal. They worked with a notebook but sometimes Eddie would get frustrated he wasn't being answered fast enough and they were running out of paper.

It was Wayne's buddy from work that presented a solution. "Have you tried sign language? My son was born deaf and Susan and I went to night classes so we could talk to the kid." So that's exactly what Wayne did, he moved his shifts to the day and spent his nights at the school learning to talk to his boy. On his days off he'd show Eddie what he'd learnt and slowly they were able to bridge the gap that the silence presented.

The silent days didn't stop as he grew older, his teachers didn't really understand and sometimes he'd end up in detention with a note saying he was being disrespectful. His friends understood though and enthusiastically asked Eddie to teach them sign language, they'd use it even when Eddie was happily chatting with them, they liked that they shared a 'secret' language from the bullies.

He hadn't had any silent days since Vecna, which Eddie thought was a miracle in itself given the circumstances. However, he woke up a couple months after spring break knowing what kind of day it was going to be. He felt frustrated with himself, he was supposed to be hanging out with Steve and Robin today and was worried with how they'd take it, especially Steve. They'd been dancing around each other's feelings lately and he didn't want to ruin everything before it even started. Resigned he grabbed a notebook and pen and headed to Family Video.

He'd spent ten minutes psyching himself up in the parking lot before heading inside, note written and ready explaining that no it wasn't anything Upside Down related, he just wouldn't be speaking today. The door's bell rings in his ear as he stops suddenly staring at the scene before him. Steve and Robin were, quite rapidly, signing at each other. Steve turns at the bell, smiling at Eddie.

"Eddie!"

Still in a bit of shock, Eddie signs on instinct, "You know sign?"

Steve has the same look of shock now, before his face breaks into an even bigger smile and signs back, "You know sign! You know sign, how, why?"

His hands are faster than his brain as he explains how he goes quiet sometimes, and Wayne and night classes and Hellfire before asking Steve how he and Robin know sign.

Steve looks bashful as he signs back, "Um, after Starcourt my hearing started to go, so Robin, ever the linguist, insisted we learn, which was actually very smart of her. I can still kinda hear but I get by mainly on lip reading."

Things started to make sense now to Eddie, how sometimes Steve seemed to just nod and smile at whatever the kids were saying, or would need things repeated to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me about going nonverbal? Robbie has days like that too."

"Didn't want you to think I was weird."

"I like that you're weird, I like you, Eds."

Eddie blushes at what he interprets is his sign name from Steve, the letter E and the sign for love combined.

"I like you too, Stevie." Eddie signs, the letter S mixed with the sign for heart.

Eddie may still have his silent days, but now he shares them with Steve, and they can sign the things he's not allowed to say out loud, making sure they both know they're loved.

[johannestevans]

I came out as trans at about fifteen or sixteen, changed my name, and I’ve lived as a man since. As a young man doing my A-Levels, going to university, and working afterwards, I was out as a man, using he/him pronouns, using my actual name —

Two pictures of me, one at age 16, the other at age 19.

To people who had no idea what a trans man looked like, it was pretty easy to give people a funny look and say, “I’m a man,” in a tone that made them suddenly flustered and nervous, because cis people feel extremely guilty about misgendering another cisgender person in a way they don’t when they know you’re trans.

I was thin, had a lower-toned but still not masculine voice, didn’t have much of a chest — I got gendered correctly automatically maybe 30 or 40% of the time, and maybe up to 50% if I employed shame in the right way, implied I was cis with a hormonal imbalance, or if people assumed I was still a teenage boy rather than an adult.

To people who did know what a trans man looked like but weren’t trans themselves, talking to them was fucking excruciating.

I remember once when I was selling house alarms and some hideous cis girl asked, “Are you transgender?” and I immediately told her, “Nope,” as she kept questioning the point. Another time, I was in the back of a taxi when a man asked if I was trans, although thankfully when I told him, “Nope, just low testosterone,” he seemed to immediately believe me and back the fuck off.

It’s one of the reasons I feel conflicted about trans visibility — it’s great for other trans people to see a variety of trans representation, but cis people knowing what trans people are is a double-edged sword, because cis people are entitled, invasive, and often just straight-up weird about gender, most of all when they think they’re being allies.

When I started working at a hotel, my immediate boss was a very abusive woman — she was petty, vindictive, and because she had poor organisational skills and frequently got flustered by her own workload, she would take this out on any staff around her, whether that was her juniors, other management, or sometimes guests.

Her being abusive in the workplace wasn’t that unusual. Now and then the managers would misgender me, and I’d correct them, and they’d brush it off as they apologised, that sort of thing.

Because this manager identified as an ally, she flipped her fucking lid.

She went off on a tirade for some ten minutes about what a great ally she is, and how much she knows about and cares about trans people, and how a lot of people wouldn’t hire a trans person, and she volunteers with local queer groups (she was at the time a mediocre DJ, and frequently DJed at a local gay club), and all this bluster.

Over one (apparently needed) correction.

All she needed to do was not misgender me — a quick “sorry” might have been nice. A ten-minute rant about how she was a saint for hiring me?

Not really necessary.

Cisgender people hate trans people — and I know some cis people reading this are immediately raising their hackles and about to go “well not ALL cis people — “ because they’re allies, and it’s important that I know that they’re a good one, actually, and they’re a real ally.

But the reason that cis people have a knee-jerk negative reaction to trans people, intersex people, and any person that they have decided is gender non-conforming, the reason they respond so punishingly to our existence or to mild misbehaviours on our parts — such as demanding respect or correcting their mistakes — is because our very existence is an interruption to their worldview, the ideologies and biases by which they live.

They should know what a man is just by looking at one, and if they get it wrong, that’s embarrassing for them — because to cisgender people the binary male-female divide is crucial to the way they respect or disrespect others, people that interrupt their thinking on it can trigger a lot of rage and upset. A trans person represents a frightening challenge — what if they accidentally treated a man with the casual disrespect that is rightfully allotted women? What if they sexually objectified a man thinking he was a woman, and it made them gay for a moment?

If they think you’re cisgender and heterosexual enough, any of these things are their fault, and they feel very bad about them.

But if you’re trans?

Well, it’s your fault for existing that way, right? You’re the one doing genders wrong — they’re not the one that made the error!

There’s a particular rage reserved for trans men, lesbians, and any other trans or GNC person that’s perceived as being “biologically female” — because society feels the greatest gender-based entitlement over these people’s bodies, in large part due to institutional misogyny, we’re perceived as gender traitors.

Cis men hate us because we’ve ruined what they perceived as a resource for them — a source of sexual gratification and aesthetic pleasure, a breeding vessel for birthing babies, not to mention a mother with all the domestic labour that comes with; cis women hate us because they perceive us as gaining all the privileges of being male, of gaming the system, and at the same time breaking what they sometimes feel is a sort of sacred trust of femininity.

In order to cope with institutional misogyny, some cis women effectively craft a further gender-based bioessentialism — if you have a uterus and are perceived as a woman by society, you’re not just physically capable of birthing a child. You must also innately have the traits of an ideal mother — you must be nurturing and lovely, you must be caring, you must have the correct emotions, you must be submissive in the right way. But also, a woman like this must be cleverer than a man, and if she effectively parents or cares for the men in her life, she just does that because she is so smart, and men are so stupid.

Again, trans people represent an interruption to that mode of thinking. If trans people are real, and we’re the genders we say we are, all of that ideology is nonsense.

If I, a trans man, can just “choose” to be a man, doesn’t that mean that every woman that experiences misogyny is just “choosing” misogynistic abuse?

The fact that as a trans man, I experience abuses that are linked to misogyny is irrelevant — that I’m at a higher risk of sexual abuse, that medical professionals dismiss my symptoms as soon as some of them realise I’m “really” a woman and cease my treatment or cease treating me with the respect due a man; that people dismiss me and dehumanise me, either because they think I’m transgender, and therefore a lesser being, or an ugly and not sexually available woman, and therefore a lesser being.

If I’m a trans man, I must experience male privilege — why else would I choose to be trans?

And if I don’t experience male privilege in every situation, because people don’t always consider me male or legitimately male, or if male privilege in any given situation I experience is actually complicated by other factors, such as race, disability, sexuality, and so on, then I must be lying.

Passing privilege isn’t the same as male privilege — passing privilege generally refers to the privileges a transgender person experiences because they reliably pass as cisgender.

I don’t think that it’s universal — “passing privilege” assumes that everyone passes in all situations, and while I would say that I pass very reliably in a lot of mine now that I’m several years on T and my second puberty has been very good to me, this doesn’t apply everywhere.

When I’m in the hospital, for example, or otherwise seeing a doctor, I get treated with even more hostility — partially because most cis doctors practice misogyny-based medicine and are more likely to dismiss women’s symptoms or generally give them worse medical care, especially male doctors treating women. In my experience, cis female doctors are more likely to punish me for being transgender than a cis male one is.

I’ve noticed multiple times going to see a doctor, being treated as a man with all my pain or symptoms being treated as a concern, and then abruptly there’s a sudden withdrawal of care and concern when the doctor either realises I’m transgender and/or realises I’m “really” a woman.

But the thing is?

I’m pretty sure that the reason I suddenly receive such aggressive negative response is because I pass so well. When cis people realise that I’m trans, they feel even angrier and more personally betrayed, because I’ve so thoroughly “tricked” them by being a man without their permission.

Me at 24, about a year on testosterone; me at 25, about two years on testosterone. Same blouse, same vest.

But in general, day-to-day life — yeah, I’m perceived as a cis man.

Notably, a cis gay man.

Regularly, other trans guys and some butches tell me that as they began to present in ways perceived as more masculine, they noticed that women in public responded to them differently.

If they were out at night and a woman was walking alone nearby, she might cross the street to be a bit further away from them; she might choose to sit elsewhere rather than be near them on a bench; a woman alone might not want to share a lift with them.

I thought this was interesting the first few times I heard it — I hear it all the time, and it still strikes me as curious, because I don’t experience the same thing at all.

I’ve never had a woman walk away from me, or be careful not to be alone with me. Frequently, women strike up conversation with me in public, they chat to me on buses the way they might with other women — a little while ago I was waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up from the airport, and a young girl of 19 or so actually came up to me to ask if she could hotspot off my phone for a second and to ask me for directions.

It’s not that women alone shouldn’t strike up conversation with men, or shouldn’t be alone with them — but just to avoid any potential discomfort or risk of being harassed, many of them understandably avoid it.

But a lot of women see me in the street or in public places, and when they perform their internal risk assessment, I don’t prompt a red flag.

Part of it is that I’m skinny and white, sure — I’m not very physically intimidating in terms of my size, and I’m not racialised in the way many Black and dark-skinned men and boys are. Sometimes, I’m using a mobility aid like a cane, and that makes a difference, too.

But as a rule, I’m pretty. I wear make-up — I often wear face stickers and have visible “tattoos”. I’m fussy about my hair, and it shows. I dress in bright prints and florals, I wear silks and satins, I wear waistcoats and high-waisted jeans, I wear block heels.

When I walk, I sashay my hips. I hold my hands in a delicate way — I gesticulate freely, and I move my fingers when I do so in an effete way. If they hear me talk, people often guess from my accent that I’m English rather than Welsh, and that I’m more educated than I am, not to mention significantly posher.

The average cishet stranger in the street absolutely sees me as a man — and they exclusively see me as a gay one. No one ever mistakes me for a straight one, and that absolutely affects the way I’m treated.

I couldn’t possibly pose a threat of sexual harassment in many women’s eyes, because I’m obviously gay, and many cis straight women feel very comfortable with — if not entitled to — gay men’s companionship, especially white gays with effete mannerisms.

When talking about gender-based privileges for trans men and mascs, we don’t tend to consider any impact that perceptions of our sexuality can have, but because of the way gay men are sorted into a different subclass of cis masculinity than straight men, there’s a noticeable impact.

Straight people sometimes roll their eyes or look amused when they think I’m being particularly dramatic or gay; occasionally straight men wolf-whistle at me or make comments about how gay I look; people strike up conversations with me about RuPaul’s Drag Race, start chattering to me about drag, because they just assume that’s the sort of thing I would be into. I get looks sometimes on the bus if I’m chatting with friends or on the phone, or sometimes if I’m just there in front of them and I look very gay.

Most of this isn’t incredibly malicious — is it homophobic? Sure, sometimes. A lot of it is just straight people trying to understand what they think is gay culture the best way they know how.

Parents with kids actually make me the most nervous — not because there’s any danger posed by the kids themselves most of the time, but because parents can be the most vicious when it comes to homophobia. They’ll accuse gay men of being paedophiles just for existing in public and seeming a bit fruity, or they’ll get nervous about how gay someone looks in case their kids ask questions about it.

And kids do find how I look interesting — all the time, I’ll be out in public, and a kid will notice that my nails are painted or that I’m wearing high heels or that they see tattoos on my face, and they’ll ask their parents about it.

It’s anxiety-inducing for any parent when their child starts acting about a stranger’s appearance where the stranger can hear them, because they get worried about the potential impoliteness — when that stranger is a faggot, some of them get angry at me, because once again, even without their knowing I’m transgender, I’m interrupting their worldview of what the correct gendered behaviours are, forcing them to think about it, forcing them to explain aberrations to their kids.

A “normal”, “real” man is straight, after all, and does straight men’s things, like dress badly and sexually harass women and get ugly haircuts. It’s confusing, if I’m out on the streets looking fuckable.

The last time I was travelling, I was sitting in a restaurant in the airport, and some boys at the next table were staring at me.

“Dad, why is that man wearing makeup?”

“I don’t know, some men wear it.”

“How come?”

“…”

It is a truth universally acknowledged that wherever a faggot goes, little boys will be asking their mildly homophobic but well-meaning and liberal parents questions about that man’s physical appearance.

A classic response, and one that I overhear often, was this man’s retort: “Why don’t you go and ask him?”

Sometimes teenagers and kids laugh at how I dress, especially if they’re in groups together — and especially, too, if there’s a bunch of us visible queers together.

One thing I’ve noticed about wearing crop-tops is that some people get het-up about how hairy I am and the hair visible on my belly, or under my arms if I’m wearing a vest — because some straight people see a white twink and want to reclassify him as being part of the woman subcategory instead of the man subcategory (based on his assumed sexual availability to men), they then apply women’s rules of physical appearance to him.

After all, if I’m wearing makeup and high heels and high-waisted jeans and a crop-top, that’s like how a woman dresses — and if I’m going to dress like a woman even though I’m obviously a man, I should be held to the standards a woman would be too. I should be hairless and odourless, like a sexy child, because “sexy child” is the ideal for an attractive woman, right?

Some cishet women also hate how I dress and instead of laughing or grumbling about it in the way that cishet men do, they wrinkle their noses and get really quite scornful about it.

Some of those women’s husbands are secretly on Grindr (I know because I have sex with them), and I believe this is the closest they get to facing their suspicions as to their husbands’ bisexuality.

A photo of me from earlier this month, age 26.

I started taking testosterone some months before the pandemic started, but experienced the bulk of my second puberty’s physical effects over the course of the following years.

Subsequently, when I went to a queer event being run after about two years on testosterone, many people there hadn’t seen me out in some time. I got a lot of looks and a lot of interest, especially from other queer men, in a way I never had before — I always got a lot of engagement and looks, but many cis gay men would take a little while to warm up to the idea of me as a man if they knew or suspected I was trans.

Maybe it’s just because I’m hotter, though, right? I’m hardly the only person to go through a glow-up on HRT, and I certainly feel more attractive.

Except that several of the older men looking at me were men I’d known casually for years — and a bunch of them came up and introduced themselves. Said hi, what’s your name, I’m x, it’s nice to meet you, are you new to the city?

Because up ’til then, they really hadn’t much looked at me in much detail. Many of these men had heard me give talks, had talked to me in queer bars, had met me at one event or another, and I just hadn’t stuck in their minds — they certainly hadn’t come up and spoken to me before, let alone with such enthusiasm.

And I do want to say, like —

None of these men would call themselves anti-trans — they’d try to use the right pronouns, they’d say that there should be trans events on, and so on. But there’s still going to be unconscious biases there — whether up ’til now they saw me as a woman (and therefore just looked past me) or saw me as trans (and therefore just looked past me), suddenly I was a fully realised human being. Maybe I was attractive and fuckable to some of them — but crucially, I was also another gay man, and therefore real and worth talking to.

And I will say that this isn’t all older gay men in my community or even like, a massive majority of them — but it was enough older gay men to be noticeable.

Even entering into new gay spaces, queer men tend to be friendlier to me than they used to, more outgoing in conversation, chattier, etc.

That’s obviously not necessarily because I’m trans — like I said, I’m also hotter than I used to be, I’m older, more educated, I dress better and more confidently, etc. There’s other factors at play, and I’m not comparing friendliness to cruelty or coldness — I’m comparing it to polite apathy, which was often mild enough that I wasn’t hugely affected by it pre-T.

Some men do treat me a little coldly, but from what I can tell it’s not usually because they suspect or know I’m trans — a lot of the time it’s actually because I’m so faggy and effeminate, or they just don’t trust that I’m gonna be cool because I’m so young.

Mixed queer spaces can be another story.

Other queer people my age have often found me intimidating — I’m a pretty outspoken person, my politics are more aggressive leftwing than many people’s, and as a autistic, I speak plainly and directly in a way that a lot of people don’t care for, or can find scary and overwhelming.

Now, though?

The response to my perceived aggression is a lot more dramatic and avoidant — because now they assume I’m a cisgender man.

People often interpret me as angry or aggressive when I’m not — I can sometimes be somewhat flat in my affect, I can be a very blunt communicator, I don’t tend to beat around the bush when it comes to my opinions. All of these are pretty standard as an autistic guy, and a lot of other people have experienced the same thing I have — the interpretation of those personality traits as aggressive or argumentative.

But it’s been interesting experiencing the negative response ramp up so much as soon as I’m perceived as “really” male, even by other transmascs, queer people, and trans men.

It can be strange at times navigating broader trans spaces as someone who doesn’t look trans in the way even other trans people expect you to, where they just assume that you’re cisgender, or that as someone who already passes and has therefore “finished” your journey as a trans person, there’s less reason for you to be in community with other trans people.

Especially when it comes to trauma like…

There is an assumption by many young queer people that cis gay people are just fine now, that homophobia doesn’t impact them in the traumatic way it did older generations, or that homophobia is no longer an active impact on people’s lives — I obviously am transgender, but to be brushed off with the assumption I haven’t experienced the same extent of bigotry or negative experience because I appear cisgender always strikes me as fucked up when of course a lot of cis men have had similar life experiences to me, or worse.

I will say that again, the negative responses are from a minority, just big enough to be noticeable, and the more people talk to me, the more they relax a little about the whole thing.

It’s still funny though, like —

I met some trans friends of a partner recently, and I came downstairs without a shirt on because I was hurriedly multitasking, and watched her do a double take at my chest.

I laughed and was like, “Did you not realise I was trans?”

And she went, “No!” and we had a giggle about it.

Most of the time meeting other queer people across the board, I’m extended care and compassion and love — it’s just weird, I think, being so aware of the gendered differences in how people speak with and apparently perceive me, and how things have and do change, especially because people assume transmasculinity means a one-way journey to Male Privilege, and all the benefits it can come with.

As with any and everything else, these matters come with nuance and layers, and nothing is as simple as A to B with no complications.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for going off on a tattoo artist for giving me the wrong mandarin letters?

Context matters a lot here. I (23ftm) recently lost my partner to cancer. They were the love of my life and I dropped everything for them- I moved states away from my family so that they could be more comfortable in a dryer climate, I made sure to be there for them through thick and thin- the works. My family, though sad, were okay with it since I had never been so passionate about anything before I met them. Losing them has been nothing short of miserable.

They were Chinese and had a very strong connection to their language and culture, so I wanted to get a tattoo that translated to "My angel, my love" with "my angel" being on the top and "my love" being on the bottom onto my arm. I wasn't able to learn any dialects from them while they were alive since things had been so busy, but I thought maybe at least I could start with this.

So, I went to a local tattoo parlor that had a Chinese tattoo artist (I hope it isn't racist to assume, I've heard him speaking in Mandarin on the phone) and asked to get the translation tattooed. He seemed genuine and we got to work with choosing a font, the right location, and scheduling an appointment. It was very professional and I was really glad that it had gone smoothly since if it hadn't, I'd probably just give up entirely.

A week passes and I get my tattoo. A bit after as we're talking about it, I mention that I got it to commemorate my late partner, whom like I said I consider to be the light of my life. When I mentioned that, he sort of paused and had this look on his face, like when you realize you forgot something really important. He shook it off though and we got back to talking, but things seemed obviously more awkward now.

When I went home I sent a picture of it to my partner's family, and immediately they picked up that something was wrong. They didn't tell me what it had actually translated to, but it was apparently very inappropriate and disrespectful.

Needless to say I was breaking down. My partner had died, I was struggling with depression and fatigue from handling a lot of the funeral procedures, and overall that had been the straw that broke the camel's back. This is where I may be the asshole. I drove back to the parlor shop and found my tattoo artist, and I didn't get physical, but I had definitely wanted to. I was yelling at him, screaming about how he was a horrible shitty person, the works. He argued back that I should have at least given him a reason for the tattoo, since he gets white people coming in all the time asking for dumb stuff, but I shot back that he could have at least told me what he had done when I did reveal why I got the tattoo.

Again, I didn't get physical, but they did threaten to call the cops on me if I didn't leave since I wss making a scene, so I left and later emailed that I had at the very least wanted a refund, since they didn't even give me the tattoo I wanted. I still haven't gotten a response yet.

My family (both biological and in-laws) are very conflicted over this. Some of them think that I could have dealt with it a lot better, while others think I should have threatened them with a lawsuit (obviously there's inbetween opinions but those are the main two extremes). I can't afford a lawsuit considering I'm already dealing with the funeral funds like I said, but I don't know. I don't even know if yelling at the guy made me feel better or worse- it was an in-the-moment response to be sure.

So, with more context, AITA for yelling at the tattoo artist who gave me an inappropriate tattoo instead of the one I really wanted?

What are these acronyms?

[kachowder]

hihi!! can you say more about cameron?

Cameron (Yandere Therepaist) Facts and Info

Tw: Mild Yandere themes, Nsfw mentions

In terms of what type of yandere Cameron is, he’s actually a fairly manageable one.

You have to keep in mind, that before you came into the picture he was a normal dude.

I mean a wealthy normal dude but yknow still normal. Went on dates. Experienced break ups. Though after college he focused more on his career than anything.

As a romantic partner, he’s actually quite the romantic. Maybe a bit more, marital, in his behavior, likely referring to you both as if you’ve been wed already, but other than that he’s really not that bad

He’s very willing to help around house, and will gladly assume the role of either being the breadwinner or the househusband.

Money isn’t really a problem for Cameron, the problem is that he can’t help himself but to spend it all on you.

Expect a lot of gifts. Constantly. On random occasions. It doesn’t even have to be a holiday

Realistically you could probably give him a compliment one day and within a few hours he’ll be a blushing mess handing you a new present wrapped with a pretty bow. (He’s good with his hands)

While Cameron is willing to clean the house and take care of any of your needs, I will admit he’s not the best cook.

If he offers to make something for you, I’d recommend takeout instead.

Now if we have a look at his more, not so great qualities, it’d be important to mention his jealousy problem.

He’s good at hiding it in public don’t get me wrong! He’s pretty well behaved when it comes to someone flirting with you in front of him

A charming smile, a hand on your hip, a kiss on your cheek, simple stuff like that to get the other person to take a hint.

If all else fails he may call the cops and report them to authorities as a dangerous criminal. Whyd they confess to a bunch of crimes they didn’t even commit? Who knows.

Despite how he acts in public though, at home it’s a considerably different story.

He’s not an angry guy, but everyone has their limits.

And sometimes he needs to blow off some steam after having those limits tested.

If he’s feeling more neglected and needy, then expect a night full of worship and adoration.

He’s on his knees all night for you. Consider yourself pillow royalty for the night. Just make sure you have your attention on him the whole time.

And if you’re feeling particularly sweet, you can have fun reducing him to tears as well! He’ll definitely let you take the reigns.

He wants you to remember how wonderful of a partner he is. How obedient he can be. How good he can make you feel, and how no one else will make you feel this way.

If he’s feeling particularly ignored or disrespected though, you’ll be on the receiving end of some deliciously exhausting hours.

He won’t hurt you, no not in a million years.

But he might take you so many times that either your brain turns to mush or are reduced to tears.

All while he keeps whispering how much he loves you in your ear

How much you need him. How he should be the only one allowed to touch you like this.

But on nights where you’ve merely been gone for a long time, just expect to come home to a wonderful partner, dressed in the most revealing of clothes, and ready to service you however you want.

A/N: tysm for the support anon <3

[aemondsvisenya]

Hello! I saw you were taking requests for House of the dragon and wanted to request something if that’s okay! I had this idea for quite a while but haven’t been able to find any fics like this. I’d like to request a Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader hurt/comfort fic in which the reader comforts him after Viserys’ death. Maybe she finds him having a breakdown and like breaking things so she goes to hug him (with the head bump thing he does when he hugs people bc that makes me melt) and he just lets go for once. I know this sounds a bit ooc for him but I’ve heard that they cut off the scene in which he cried for Viserys and his daughter and I can’t get over it. I believe Daemon is actually more emotional than how we see in the show and that he feels a lot and is a very complex character. I’d love to see a scenario in which Daemon actually can’t hold his emotions in anymore and someone is there for him. Idk I just love him🫶🏻

Sorry for my english, it’s not my first language. Anyway, take your time and feel free to ignore this if it you’re not really inspired, have a great day!

Hi anon! Of course it’s absolutely okay to request! ☺️ I love this idea so much, oh my gosh - I actually did write a fanfic a couple of months back about Daemon in episode 10 (grieving not only his brother but also his daughter and stepson), and I totally agree that he’s incredibly complex. It’s a shame there were scenes showing his complexity cut from the show!

Anyway, I apologise for it being kind of short but I've been busy with work unfortunately! I also apologise if it sucks!

Grieving | Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of illness/death, angst, hurt/comfort, Daemon using his favourite four letter words beginning with c and f

Also, a note: Obviously this isn't canon-compliant - you're in a relationship with Daemon in this fic, so you could assume he's not married to Rhaenyra but... anyway.

The first thought on your mind when you heard the news of Viserys’ death was not of the inevitable power struggle for who would be the one to seize the throne, of the inevitable war and pain for both sides this would cause, or even your own feelings of sadness at the king’s passing.

No, the only thing on your mind was Daemon.

It didn’t take long for everyone around you to busy themselves with plotting how best to help the king’s named heir take the throne that was rightfully hers, Daemon chief among them; to anyone else, he appeared angry, filled with a dangerous rage that threatened to boil over and destroy everything in his wake, his desire for war and revenge clear. It was true, you admitted; it was obvious that your lover wanted to hurt each and every person who had caused his brother pain, who had disrespected that same brother’s wishes, who had held any part in usurping a niece he held dear. There was no question that Daemon Targaryen wanted revenge or that he would be the one to swing the sword as he sought it.

But you knew him well enough to know that there was more than just anger and hate driving him - everyone thought him a heartless man, incapable of loving or truly caring for anyone, but you knew this assumption couldn't have been further from the truth.

As darkness fell over Dragonstone that evening and the council meetings drew to a close, you saw the Rogue Prince leave quickly; his face was grim, mouth set in a firm line and a hand on the sword he kept with him at all times. No one noticed as you silently slipped away after him, too occupied in their own politics and war to care what you did or where you went - you were of little importance compared to the lords, princes and queen, after all.

You knew immediately where he had gone - there was only one place in the castle he would go now after a long day like this, especially in the aftermath of such news. In no time at all you were standing outside of the chambers the two of you were occupying during your stay, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before ordering the guard posted outside of the doors to let no one else in unless of an emergency; the knight agreed, bowing his head low as you entered the room.

"FUCK!"

A goblet clashed against a stone wall, thankfully empty and not filled with wine that would stain the rugs. Your prince barely seemed to notice your sudden presence, so consumed by his anguish and rage that it seemed to blind him to all else; you tried not to wince as he next overturned a large table, sending the books and scrolls that had decorated it clattering to the floor in a mess. You had known he would take the news harshly: the king had been his older brother, his only brother or sibling for that matter, and while their relationship had been somewhat uneasy over the years, it was clear that they had loved and cared for each other despite any quarrels or disagreements they may have once had.

He let out snarl, kicking a nearby chair. "Those bastards... those fucking Hightower cunts..." He picked up a nearby vase and threw it to the floor; the object shattered upon impact, something else the servants would have to clean come morning. Most would have been afraid by his behaviour, by this violence - but not you. You knew he would not hurt you, that his actions were merely his way of expressing his pain and hurt.

"Daemon..."

He spared you a glance, enough to acknowledge you, before letting out a harsh exhale and stalking over to the window; he sat on the ledge underneath it, resting an arm against the glass and leaning his head against it. Like this, you could not see his face - but you knew what the small tremors that shook his shoulders meant, what he needed from you even as he tried to hide.

"Oh, love..." You crossed the room and without hesitating cupped his face, turning it towards you. "Come here."

Daemon looked at you once more, his eyes glassy. "My brother..."

"I know," You whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm certain he knew you were loyal to him, that you loved him - he knew it until the end."

"He's gone," He said, voice thick with emotion that he was only now allowing himself to feel properly. "Viserys is gone."

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. "It's okay, Daemon... you don't have to be strong here, not with me."

There was a moment's pause before he leaned forwards, forehead gently bumping against your chin as he pressed his face into your chest. As your hands started to run through his hair almost absent-mindedly, knowing that this action helped to soothe him, he began to let go for you; his hands reached for the fabric of your clothes as if to clutch onto you, to hold you closer, and soon the tears came.

Very few people had ever seen the Rogue Prince cry, for he hated to be seen as weak, but the love and years you had spent together meant he trusted you enough to be vulnerable in front of. It didn't take long before his tears turned to quiet sobs, muffled by the way he pressed his face into you; all you could do for now was hold him tight and whisper comfortingly to him, to to be there for him by giving him the freedom he needed to grieve his loss.

Daemon would avenge his brother, of this you had no doubts - but for tonight he allowed himself to let go and mourn, and you were all too willing to be there for him when he needed you most.

[graymanshoots]

captain price, right, but you’re so distracted by him all day because he just looks so good, and eventually he notices you undressing him with your eyes, and he asks you to his office

giggles and runs away

Omg my first request! I will do the best I can :3 🙏

Captains orders

Word count: 2481

(fem anatomy)

Warnings: UK military inaccuracies, dubious consent (nothing explicitly stated), authoritative advantage, blow jobs, rough sex

Eyes locked with his you couldn't look away, whether it be for training, lunch, paper work, or leisure time. Your eyes never strayed far from your captain who had been casually wearing a tight black compression shirt and his military fatigues around base for the last few days.

The distraction had proved poor work results on your end which left you on your captain's bad side for the day. With what seemed to be frustrated reluctance he called you to his office later that day the realization that you had fucked up pouring over you like a bucket of ice.

It was around 19:00 when you had entered the captain's office.

The dark oak of his desk is shiny and clean with minimal clutter, the captain's elbows resting on the desk, his hands clasped together under his chin.

Without saying a word John gestured to the cushioned seats that were placed in front of his desk, his gaze heavy and intimidating on you.

Not wanting to wade further into the muddy mess you created for yourself, you quickly take a seat, eyes averting from your captain for the first time that day.

The silence felt suffocating, the unknowingness to why he called you down to his office caused your insides to turn.

“You’ve been distracted lately y/n and your performance has decreased because of it.” he started, cutting through the silence with the known fact. “Do you understand the importance of our upcoming assignment, if you're not prepared then-” you're quick to cut him off on impulse, “I'm not broken…” John's steely gaze caused you to shut your mouth, shrinking into the cushions of the chair.

“Sorry captain.” you quickly muttered out the heat of his stare burning holes through you.

He let out a sigh of what you assumed to be frustration and sat back in his chair, his legs spread comfortably beneath his desk.

“A poor performance will not be rewarded, you understand that sergeant, yes?” he asked, standing from his seat.

John walked around the desk and leaned against the front of it now standing directly in front of you. You could see the frustration in his eyes, the way his tongue darted out quickly to wet his lips and the way he shifted in his stance observing you. He patiently waited for your answer crossing his arms as he gave you a pointed look.

You found yourself nodding along even though you couldn't quite remember what he had said to you previously.

You didn't even realize he was speaking again until he tapped your shoulder, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of your t-shirt.

“Stand, sergeant.” he demanded, watching as you scrambled to follow his order feeling as if you've dug yourself into a deeper hole.

“Lost in thought again? I never figured you'd be the one to blatantly disrespect me sergeant.." Price trailed off walking past you towards his door.

“I mean no disrespect sir i've just had a lot on my mind lately. I promise I'm good for the mission. It's just been a trouble to focus this week but I'm getting myself in check.” you start explaining watching as your captain stops in front of his door.

“On your knees, soldier.” He says keeping his back to you as he speaks.

Your mind went blank the minute the words left his lips and you cocked your head to the side in confusion,”Sir-..what?” you wanted to make sure you heard him right.

“I said, On Your Knees.” he repeated turning to you, the expression he held almost enough to make you drop immediately.

“Bad soldiers are to be reprimanded and punished, right?” His tone was condescending when he asked the question but you couldn't help but let out a verbal agreement.

With that the lock on his door clicked in place and you dropped to your knees.

“Since you've been having so much trouble, why don't I give you something to focus on?” He said less as a question more as an idea.

You were kneeled on the ground looking up at John's approaching figure as the knot in your stomach dissipated into something more heated.

John grabbed your chin forcing you to look him in the eyes, hunger reflecting back at you in his steely blues.

With his free hand he unbuckled his belt pulling it off and tossing it to the side before popping open the buttons of his fatigues.

You could see the outline of his thick cock half hard and heavy in his boxers. The grip he had on your chin tightened as he pushed the fabric down enough to free his thickness. “Open.” he said, his voice taking hold of you as your body followed his order before you could even think.

John slid his cock between your lips groaning quietly at the feeling of you taking him so obediently. John was heavy on your tongue, your throat straining to accommodate him as he thrusted slowly into your mouth.

The hand that gripped your jaw slipped to the back of your head holding you firmly so you took John down to the base. Your hands balled into fists on your lap as you feel his head pushing against the back of your throat. “So focused now that you've got a cock down your throat, eh?” there was a confident smugness to his demeanor.

You could only hum out a response mouth too full to speak, you could feel warmth begin to build in your lower stomach as John thrusted his length shallowly between your lips.

Each thrust almost caused you to gag your eyes watering at the repeated abuse of your throat. John’s eyes were shut and he let out shallow breaths, his grip tightening in your hair.

You felt tears fall from your eyes as you brought your hands up to his thighs for better stability.

“Fuck… should’a had you do this instead of training.” he huffed out looking down into your teary gaze bringing his hand down to wipe away the tears.

You let your captain use your throat like a toy inhaling his musky scent, your underwear feeling damp between your clenched thighs.

The wet sounds of him fucking your throat seemed so loud in his quiet office where the only other noise came from the soft whirr of the air conditioning.

He didn't fail to notice how you rubbed your legs together while you choked down his dick, he let out a huff of air shaking his head.

Price pulls you off of him watching as you greedily sucked in breaths, your spit slicked lips open to inhale.

John gives you little time to gain your bearings before he’s grabbing you by your upper arm, forcing you to stand.

He wordlessly pushes you to sit on a desk and slots himself between your thighs, his solid cock resting over your clothed slick.

“You gonna be obedient and let me stuff you full sargent?” he questioned bringing his palm over your mound causing a whine to come from you.

“Yes…” your voice came out breathless as you met his gaze with shaky eyes hazy with desire.

He patted your thigh prompting you to lift your hips allowing him to pull your pants off your underwear soon following.

He could feel his cock twitch at the sight of your slick heat, the need to be deep in you growing with every second.

He brings his thumb over your clit circling over it with gentleness he didn’t spare when you had him down your throat.

“Got all riled up from sucking me off.” he said, swiping his finger through your slit teasing before sinking his pointer and ring finger into you.

He hears a sharp intake of breath from you and tears his focus away from your sweat twitching cunt that was enveloping his fingers.

“C’mon look at me.” he murmured, bringing his other hand to the back of your neck to bring your mind back into focus.

Staring into his eyes like this with his fingers in you and his hand squeezing the back of your neck comfortingly felt almost intimate for a quick fuck with your captain.

John begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, occasionally stopping inside of you to stretch you out with scissoring motions.

You try to keep your focus on his eyes but are quickly distracted by the pleasure he provided you, moans falling from your lips and eyes twisted shut.

Concerned for possibly getting caught, John slots his lips with yours swallowing down your sounds of satisfaction. His kiss was intoxicating as he pulled you deeper leaning his body over yours.

You rested back on your hands, one coming up around the back of his neck gripping the shorter hairs at the back of his head.

He continued working you open as you squirm in his hands, your muscles tightening as you felt the ache between your thighs grow more unbearable by the minute.

You both reluctantly pull away from the kiss needing air, a thin connection of saliva linked between your lips as you panted.

Price pressed his forehead against yours as he removed his fingers from your cunt. He brought his hand down to his cock that still hung heavy between his legs.

You wrapped both arms around his shoulders, your hands intertwined at the back of his neck while he used his free hand to support the both of you on his desk. He pumped his cock slowly before slotting it against your cunt thrusting it between your legs to spread your slick over it.

The thought of protection hasn't crossed your mind until now seeing the pale white bead of precome spilling from his slit as he rutted against your swollen clit.

“Captain.” The sound of his title has John's eyes flitting to you immediately, his body stiffening slightly before relaxing again.

“I'm clean but do you need protection?” you asked your voice barely above a whisper, your face feeling warm at the question.

“If im gonna fuck you im going to do it properly if thats alright with you?” he groaned, rutting his hips against yours, eliciting a breathy whine.

You nod, giving him the okay as he lines himself with your hole, his muscles tensing as he slowly sinks into your slick cunt.

John rested his forehead against your shoulder as your back arched, hands grabbing at his hair while he stretched your walls beyond what they had previously experienced.

Your walls fluttered around his cock trying to adjust to his thicker girth and a pained whimpered coming from you at the accommodation.

“You're almost there…” he cooed, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck to soothe you.

It didn't take long for him to bottom out a tense sigh leaving him and he continued to pepper your neck with wet kisses.

He was being so gentle it was confusing, if you had been some stranger walking in you would have assumed you had walked in on two lovers having a private moment.

His softness didn't last when he felt you relax.

John pulled out almost completely leaving his tip snug in your war walls before snapping his hips forward rutting into you mercilessly.

Feeling him push so deep I couldn't help the choke gasp that spilled from you, your legs hanging uselessly at his sides and your arms bringing him closer gripping hard.

His large hand rests at the small of your back pushing your hips into his while the other braces against the groaning wood of his desk. His head hangs over your soldier quick and quiet grunts coming from him as he hungrily rutted into you balls audibly slapping against your ass.

You desperately tried to muffle your moans, bringing a hand up to cover your lips, not stopping the moans from vibrating in your throat.

“Fucking perfect-” Price groaned pulling your hips further of the edge so you were being predominantly supported by him.

Your body trembled in his arms and your cunt dripped around his cock as heat spread across your skin.

Even the best hookups you've had in the past could never compare to the taste, smell or feel of your captain.

Everything about him set your senses on fire and you couldn't help but take advantage of this moment.

The hands that was on your back moved to your hip caressing you like you were porcelain while he fucked you like a machine.

His hand moves between your thigh, his thumb moving in circles around your clit again pushing you further to the edge.

You could feel the tension coiling in your abdomen, your nails leaving crescent imprints in your captain's skin as you felt all your muscles tense a shuttered moan leaving you as everything snapped.

Price let out a strangled noise as you gripped him like a vice cuming over his cock a sticky ring of your release forming around him as he continued his unrelenting tempo.

Overstimulation set in quickly as you tried to writhe out of his grip causing him to pull you into his chest.

“Just a little bit more, love.” He panted wrapping an arm around your middle hoisting you off the desk causing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He fucked up into you his movement sloppy and eratic, “Not gonna run from me, you can take it.” he grunted.

You clawed at his back with sobbed moans dizzy off of your captain.

With a few more deep sloppy thrusts you could feel John’s warm come stuff your cunt full.

He set you back down on his desk with a few more languid thrusts as you went limp against him.

Your chest rose and fell with deep breaths as you rested against John, feeling him rub your back soothingly.

He pulled away from you to look at the mess between your thighs, his cock softening as he pulled out, allowing for his come to slip from between your lips.

“Fuck…” he muttered bringing his hands between your thighs to spread your cunt out watching as the almost translucent slick to pool on his desk.

He looks back up at you noticing your dazed expression and grabs you by your chin, “look at you now that you’ve been properly fucked.” he smirked pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before pulling away.

He tucks his cock away and helps you clean up and dress as you were still dazed and unsure on your feet.

Before dismissing you he pats your ass at the door “Try not to be trouble Sargent next time i won't be as lenient.” he says before sending you on your way.

‘Next time…’ you think to yourself as you walk back to the barracks on shaky legs with your captain's release still dripping out of you.

[love4ab]

Like A damn fool. E.P.

prompt ; Elvis wasn’t going to let you get away with talking disrespectful to him in front of his friends, so he teaches his lil girl a lesson.

70s!elvis x fem!reader. ( you can imagine any era but i personally had early 70s E in mind with this one. )

Warnings ; daddy kink. spanking with belt. praise kink if you squint. crying (??). possible spelling errors.

guys this is the second piece i’ve wrote thats made it out of my drafts !! i get scared posting my work so i’m proud of myself for this. hope u all enjoy babes ! <3 :P

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Elvis wasn't one to take disrespect from anyone, especially from his own girl. The second that smart mouth of yours made a comment to Elvis that he didn't like, in front of his friends, he nearly threw you over his lap and spanked you till you couldn't sit. You made him feel stupid in front of his group, so you knew the second the guys stepped foot outside, you were getting it, and getting it hard.

You heard the group of guys saying goodbye to each other as you sat in your and Elvis' bedroom upstairs by yourself. Earlier, when you pissed Elvis off, he sent you upstairs to the bedroom and told you to wait. Of course, not wanting to anger him more, you did as he told you. 

When you heard the front door slam and the house become so quiet you could hear a pin drop, your stomach turned upside down in an instant. Your leg continued bouncing up and down, and you picked at your nails. You heard the heavy, loud footsteps of Elvis as he slowly made his way upstairs. You sat at the end of the bed just where he left you and didn't move an inch, just as he requested. 

The door flung open, and there was your beloved man leaning against the door frame, looking down at you with hooded eyes; his pretty blue eyes nearly looked pitch black. You sat quietly, waiting for him to speak. "Now, that little mouth of yours is suddenly quiet, hmm?" He muttered as he began taking slow steps over to you. He stood in front of you, his stare so dark and intimidating that you looked down at your lap, avoiding his eye contact, which you knew he hated, but you truly couldn't stand the look in his eyes when he was angry, especially angry at you.

Recently, Elvis has been having a lot of angry outbursts and has been a bit on the sensitive side, which you assumed was due to stress from work and touring. Earlier, you didn't think Elvis was going to get this angry when you were just trying to crack some laughs out of the guys, which you did, but just not from Elvis. 

"Makin' me look like a damn fool out there in front of people." He used his pointer finger and hooked it under your chin to force you to face up. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya', little girl." He demanded, and all you could do was nod your head, scared to say something wrong. "Stand up," he mumbled, You quickly stood up, his body still towering over you due to his height. He grabbed your shoulders and swiftly spun you around. He pushed you down against the edge of the bed. Your face was now shoved into the bed, and your ass was sticking out, just how he wanted. He scrunched your dress up to your waist, and he slid your panties off.

"We remember how this goes, right, hun?" He says this as you hear him unbuckling his belt. "Yes." You answer, but it comes out muffled due to your face being against the bed. "Repeat that for me, baby." He says, You turn your face and say, "Yes, daddy!" You correct yourself. "Good." was all he said before you suddenly felt a stinging sensation on your ass, you gasped, and your body jolted up from the unexpected whip. "How 'bout you count for me?" He tells you before laying another whip from his belt on your ass.

"Two, daddy!" You yelp out, tears already brimming at the water line of your eyes. He went on and on, spank after spank. You nearly lost count at 10, but you held through knowing he would start over from one if you dared to miscount. 

"fifthteen, daddy! "I'm sorry, please!" You feel your knees buckle, nearly giving up. You gasped as you sobbed and tears streamed down your face. "You're almost done. You're bein' such a good girl." He finally praises you, and you nod your head and grip the comforter of the bed with your hands as you wait for the last of your spanking. 

"Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, daddy!" He went back to back, barely giving you time to count on time. He set the belt down on the bed; he grabbed your shoulder, pulling you up, and helped you stand up. Once you caught your balance, you turned, facing him, and wrapped your arms around him. You sniffled and pulled him closer to you; he hugged you back and placed a kiss on top of your head.

"I'm so sorry, daddy. I promise, I won't say anything mean to you anymore." You hiccuped and stumbled over your apology. He sat down, and you straddled him. You hissed as your bare ass rubbed against the rough material of his pants. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck as you sniffled, "You took your punishment so well, baby. I'm proud of you." He praised you. He caressed your hair as he rocked back and forth. Your eyes fluttered close, and you found yourself dozing off in Elvis' hold.

[thesungod]

Just noticed something in THO and HOH thats fucking me up but when Apollo is talking about Hyacinthus’s death, he mentions that he goaded Zephyrus into killing Hyacinthus by threatening him and daring him to intervene in their relationship. Which he was lowkey in the right to do like don’t let him go after your man girl! You’re a little crazy for saying you were wrong by doing so. Like why is Hyacinthus out here getting his dead ass disrespected by his LOVER claiming he gave Zephyrus no choice but to kill Hyacinthus. But it gets even crazier because what happens in HOH contradicts this.

When Zephyrus is recounting the story in HOH, he says Apollo lied about only being friends with Hyacinthus, and that when he found them playing quoits, he didn’t “confront them to find out if they were actually dating”. He instead assumed they were and went into a jealous rage and murdered Hyacinthus. And that can’t coexist with whatever the fuck Apollo claimed happened because what Apollo says meant that Zephyrus knew for sure they were dating, when Zephyrus says he didn’t and he only assumed (correctly but he wasn’t definitive about it until Post Death) 💀 It’s might be a retcon but my fucking god if it isnt its a breathtaking ass lie

OH GOD I KNOW

i literally think about it every dayyyyyyy like. Apollo why are you lying for sport😭😭

my personal theory is that Apollo revisited the event and unconsciously painted himself in the worst way possible because he felt guilty that he couldn’t save Hyacinthus.

he wasn’t powerful enough to stop the love of his life from dying a very preventable death + he’s the one who threw the discus + i suppose it’s possible that he was gloating on Olympus over having “won” the attention of the prettiest boy alive (doesn’t the original myth say something about multiple gods being after Hyacinthus what a hit girl <33) even if he insisted they were just friends.

all of that would lead him to feel extremely guilty for his lover’s death and time and grief would distort the facts to the point where he now basically thinks he was begging Zephyrus to off Hyacinthus💀

[xblackreader]

ATTOYE HEAD CANONS + a little short.

- It’s true, the moment okoye cut his face he was interested but he only knew it was romantic interest when after the first alliance meeting, she came back to wakanda welcoming her dora with smiles and laughter. It was the first time he saw her do anything besides scowl or glare and it made his chest tight. He was a goner.

- Namor knew about his feelings before he did, and he was fine with it. But He wanted to get back into wakanda’s (shuri) good graces, so he warned Attuma to keep his distance and be respectful even if he wanted to “court some wakandan who’s caught your attention” and smiled at his general like a father would.

- namora found out when she followed attuma, wondering where he was going at late hours at night to spar with okoye and early in the morning so he could watch okoye garden and train from a distance as instructed. At first, she was furious and very protective of her cousin; how could he fall for or trust this mere surface dweller? But as she watched them spar, there was no mistaking the genuine playfulness and mirth behind each of their eyes as they clashed weapons. She backed off and teased attuma about it.

- shuri knew the moment okoye had returned, there was something between the two. When okoye was announced and entered the door, she heard a sharp intake of air to her right. She chanced a look and the massive blue warrior by Ku’kul’ kan’s side stiffened, his azure skin turning a soft lavender. She laughed to herself and walked up from her seat by mbaku to greet okoye with open arms. This should be interesting…

- it started with attuma catching okoye as she surveyed the halls of the palace, “in ba’ ate’ el!” He’d announce, approaching her. Okoye rolled her eyes, “I cannot spar with you now, shark. Go find someone else to beat you.” He’d huff and walk away sadly. And when she’d oblige him, saying “I can spare a few minutes to put you in your place. Come with me to the garden then, fish.” The Dora Milaje who watched nearby would giggle and ‘awe’, at how he’d light up, planting his axe to the ground proudly. “We’ll spar then, in ba’ ate’ el! Prepare yourself.”

- Fighting with him had been a great addition to her routine, allowing her to release some stress and have some fun in her position as Midnight Angel. So one day when she couldn’t find Attuma to spar with her, she asked another talokanil soldier, passing by. He did not offer nearly as much challenge as Attuma and Okoye was disappointed to find, it wasn’t the same. No matter, she’d learned now and would just ask Attuma when she saw him next.

She saw him next on the outdoor balcony.

When she did, he was cold and very obviously offended by her asking, “I assume Pakal wasn’t the adversary you thought he’d be?” Okoye was surprised. He had been there that day? She had tried to find him, did he watch them spar? Then surely he saw how easily put his soldier on his behind over 3 times.

“Ah,” okoye said “No, it was quite underwhelming unfortunately… I couldn’t find you so I thought I’d find the next best thing-“

“The next best thing?” The large general hissed. “What was I? A stand in?”

Okoye was flustered and didn’t know why. “N- no! Don’t be ridiculous, fish! He- Pakal was the stand in!”

Attuma seethed, his grip on his axe tightening, “ you call my subordinate by his name, and me a fish? in ba’ ate’ el, this disrespect is starting to seem personal!”

Attuma didn’t even look mad anymore, he looked hurt and confused and frustrated. “Find someone else to beat you.” His mask translated, and he stormed off towards his temporary quarters. Okoye stood on the balcony, confused beyond belief. What got his goat so horribly? Had she done something wrong?

She went to the lab and talked to Shuri and Riri about it, and to her dismay did not get the “yeah, he’s crazy. I don’t know what he’s mad about” she was hoping to hear.

“He’s being so frustrating and cryptic!” Okoye said to them both, as they worked.

Riri and Shuri looked at each other knowingly, and Riri shrugged, “I don’t know, Koko… it sounds like he’s jealous…”

Okoye groaned in annoyance, “Don’t call me Koko, and jealous?! Of what?”

Riri made a face, “I don’t know, you and him have been pretty buddy buddy lately… you’ve been sparring and talking with other each other for two months. Maybe when you so easily replaced him with somebody else…” Riri trailed off, trying to let Okoye put it together.

Okoye looked at her with a dazed expression, “… what? Maybe he’s being ridiculous?”

Shuri laughed and put her hand on Okoyes shoulder, “sister, remember that we in Wakanda have different definitions of… friendship than those from Talokan. He might think you don’t want to be his friend-“

“We’re not friends! We’re sparring partners at best!”

“Fine.” Shuri pressed her mouth into a line, “He might think you no longer wish to spar with him, he might take that as an insult.”

Okoye understood now, nodding. This was about honor and pride, two things she knew very well. She turned back to Shuri. “ how can I correct it? I want no bad blood.”

Riri put a hand on her hips, smirking knowingly. “You should get him some food,” Okoye shrunk back, making a face like something stunk. “A peace offering! Warriors from bikini bottom gotta eat too.”

“Bikini… bottoms?”

Shuri snickered, “Riri has an idea, you should make something or have something made for him, just to show him you meant no ill will.” Okoye looked to Riri who nodded and gave a thumbs up.

“Okay, that sounds reasonable.”

***

“What’s this, in ba’ ate’ el?” Attuma said, after she caught him by the shore bordering the palace. He was sulking but she didn’t need to know that.

Okoye nervously blushed holding in her arms a dish of Tamales and corn meal bread, she had clumsily attempted to put together to the best of her ability. She’s a warrior, the best in wakanda, not a cook. But she tried.

Now comes the pathetic part of the apology, she thought. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Attuma. It was not my intention, so I made you some food as an offering of repentance.”

Attuma was silent, staring between the dish and the warrior avoiding eye contact with him, with an unreadable look on his chiseled face.

The large man gingerly took the dish from her with a quiet ‘thank you’. She nodded curtly, trying to ignore how warm her face felt and turned swiftly away from him, making her way back through the golden city marketplace.

The next day there were flowers. The day after that when she saw him , his eyes lit up and he handed her a sheathed dagger made from vibranium and bone. She attached it to her waist and he glowed with pride.

After that it was a necklace appearing on her dresser, a few pearls left in her pouch, and then suddenly fish showing up at her door. She knew it was him.

Marching up to him, before he could ask her to spar again to redeem himself from the day before she hissed at him, “What is the meaning of this fish? Is this a threat or prank of some sort?”

“You…” He looked at a loss, the look of amusement falling from his strong features, “you didn’t like the fish?” He asked, in the softest voice she’d ever heard from him.

Caught off guard, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Did I like the live fish you left at my door this morning? Why would I like it?”

Attuma turned purple, “it was very fresh and the kind is a very rare delicacy in Talokan…”

Okoye nodded, so for later, she’d have to get used to this cultural exchange. “Oh. Well, next time, instead of leaving it for me raw, have it prepared! I didn’t know what to think seeing this creature beg me for life!”

Attuma tilted his head. “Yes, I suppose that’s better, than you will see how I can provide for you and cook. I see… is this how Wakandan men usually court to their women?

“WHAT!?”

…



little one shot 🤭 I love attuma and okoye together, I might write more if y’all want

[woneuntonzz]

𝓲𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓱𝓮? જ⁀➴

sohee x afab!reader; as “Xen”

( part 1 ⟡ part 2 )

warning/s: cussing

genre: fluff -`♡´- highschool love

word count: 6k words!!

˚₊· ➳❥ description: performing arts club singer!sohee x performing arts club president!reader(xen) | he who admired from afar and he who'd keep you close to his heart, maybe, there could be a sweeter story than this. [note!!: this is connected to the “what's it like to love?” (anton fic) —a backstory to Sohee and Xen | reader will be referred to as Xen!! (!!), Y/n from WILTL will be referred to as Eza!! :3]

People just loved to assume the worst in others, and in their eyes, the sweet and talented Xen was just another overachiever. 

You'd beg to differ though. Because unlike them who seemingly have got nothing else to do with their lives, you thrived on having responsibilities. It was the feeling of playing a vital role in school, and in your own classroom. You were a student council representative, the president of the performing arts club, and the class secretary. 

You had a lot going for you. During your time in the club, you'd perform recitals for school events and festivities, solo and accompanied. You played the violin, you sang, and you sang like a nightingale. 

Many students could recognize you just from your name alone.

“Oh, Xen? she's wonderful, I can't really imagine that girl having any flaws and faults at all.” 

Flaws and faults, huh. 

You've always thought that you've lived a pretty decent life, you were content. Growing up you helped your friends fight off their troubles, helping them lift the weight off of their shoulders. Your friends did just as much for you, and you loved them. They were the main reason why you'd say: “I'm having a great life.” 

Not much was behind it all really. You had your own unique interests, but that's natural to everyone. You had some attitude, but mostly, it's just to be humorous. You for sure would get frustrated at certain people sometimes, especially if they're making your job harder for you or for anyone else. 

Was there something missing? perhaps…

“There's a bunch of applicants this year, a bunch of freshmen as expected —a total snoozefest if you ask me.” you scoffed at the club vice president —Keeho— who had just burst in the music room with a thick but humble amount of papers stuffed in one folder.

“The freshmen are adorable.” you uttered as you went through the papers.

“Adorably disrespectful, you mean?” you laughed at his humorous griping. “It's true though. God, I cannot live another day without running into one of those little rascals in the corridors bumping shoulders with me like they own the world!”

“Yeah. Some of them don't respect anyone else but their teachers. Sad, they're very sad.” you shook your head as you spoke.

You were still going through the application forms. You spared each with only less than a minute of your time. You would only be picking thirteen students, having only that many slots available. You would just have to pick a handful that caught your eye, you estimated you would pick more than thirteen, so you would conduct a little interview to see which ones were worth keeping.

“Huh, look. It's a boy from my year level, never seen him before though.” you held this one application form a little closer to your face to evaluate it further.

“Well, it's not like you actually know everyone from your year.” a playful retort escapes Keeho's mouth.

“I do! just by face…” your voice would fade off into the distance as you moved yourself to a nearby chair to sit down.

“Lee So-Hee…”

Keeho gasps loudly making you jump from your seat. “The actress???” he would say in the most dramatic tone ever.

“No! girl, be quiet!” you'd shush him before continuing to read through the form.

Keeho eyed you as you made the same face you would make when you watched him suffer through your antics. You would soon nod as if already approving for this boy to walk right into the club, Keeho would follow your motions but with a suspecting expression on his face —and an amusing one at that.

“He has quite the history of performing. Only a couple of competitions, placed pretty high, championed twice —must be a really good singer.” Keeho scoots over to you, one end of one of the legs of his chair touching the side of your shoe.

“Lemme see.” you hand him the paper. “Hmm. You just want him in because he's cute probably.”

You lightly smack his side as he puckered his lips to create a provoking expression.  

“Stop, I'm not like you!”

“Excuse me!?”

After spending twenty-six minutes on creating a list of your picks for the mini-interview, you went to the cafeteria for lunch and met with Eza whilst Keeho wandered off to his group of friends.

“How's the club going?” you hurried to take a bite off your food before answering Eza's question.

 “Pretty— good.” you swallowed in between, giving your friend a thumbs-up after.

Seconds later, a boy approaches Eza. He had such a sweet smile, you might've thought he was there to sell you some cookies. The boy stopped near behind Eza, his eyes landing on you. You took the short time before Eza noticed him to observe, needless to say, you knew who he was.

“Oh, Sohee. What's up?” you heard Eza say as you focused on eating your food.

“Your mom…” was all you heard before looking up to see Eza hit him on his side, making him wince in pain. 

“What? My mom what?” you almost laughed seeing how Eza widened her eyes as a means to provoke the boy in some way.

“I wasn't finished!” the boy pokes back. “I was gonna say…”

From that, you couldn't really hear anything else other than mumbling that you couldn't make sense of. Eza would chortle after Sohee had whispered something to her —from what you could assume— and they would both look at you wearing smiles of their own, one appeared to be incredibly amused and the other diffident.

“Oh, Xen! This is Sohee, by the way. He's the childhood best friend in my stories, he wanted me to—” Sohee nudges Eza, and she stops speaking. She would continue after lightly biting her bottom lip and clearing a throat. “Anyways, he just transferred here.”

“Oh, is that so?” the boy gave you a timid nod, making you chuckle. 

You avert your eyes from Sohee and would be met with Eza who eyed him with a look you couldn't quite comprehend.

“I-I'll go now.” Sohee says before walking away, dropping off the same shy smile before he disappeared from your sight.

Looking back at Eza, she had a grin that you would only see whenever she was going to say something stupid —could be something completely random that would make you laugh or something to tease you, but instead, she says nothing and continues to eat. 

Curious, you eyed her until she'd look back at the leery but grinning expression on your face. “What?” she struggled to utter, still yet to finish chewing her food. 

“What was that all about?” you playfully prodded. 

Eza just shrugged at you with a downturned smile, the movement at the area of her throat indicating she had just swallowed her food.

“He thinks you're cute.”

Your eyes were wide and alive, breathing at an irregular pace as if your nose was stuffy. You continued to eat, not knowing how to respond —or if you should even believe what your friend is saying. 

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You were always painfully oblivious to flirting or any signs of a person fancying you. You once had a student athlete who had gone lengths to reach for you. At first, you could barely even believe his confession —and he'd tell you that he only joined the performing arts club because of you. You rejected him, and it went…

“So… is it Keeho?” you raised your brow at the boy in front of you.

“What are you saying?” you asked back and you would watch as he crossed his arms over his chest, a lump appearing on his right cheek as he poked from inside with his tongue. 

“You like Keeho, would explain why you're always together.” you almost laughed at his face, but you remain respectful since you weren't that familiar with this boy.

“Uh, yeah, no. We're just close friends —and I don't like anybody.” you eyed his foot that was a few steps ahead from the other, beating on the floor with the front of his shoe rhythmically. “Look, I never even knew that you liked me, I just thought you were… being nice.”

He'd scoff at you and hastily turn his head to the side. “You can't be serious right now.”

When he looked at you again, you would hold a shallow mien as your eyes traced the lines that separated the floor tiles. 

“Xen, I would never bring someone breakfast everyday just because I'm being nice, I would never compliment you on every little thing just cause I'm being nice —no one would ever pretend to care about the most trivial things you babble about, just cause they're being nice.” his irky tone got to you, causing your brows to knit together. 

“Did you expect me to just change my mind with what you said? Are you hearing yourself?” he would only scoff at you again, aggravating the growing ire reflected on your face.

“Never mind. I'm not coming back to the club. You're not worth it.” he turns his back at you and walks away with a galling noise from every step he takes. 

You consider this moment pivotal. It was the first time you've felt so agitated, so perturbed because of a stupid boy. The situation made you think about how dense you could be and how oblivious you are to basic signs of attraction. It made you think, and think, and think. 

How much did I miss?

The probable circumstance of you being so clueless towards others' affectionate efforts constantly blocked your train of thought, always being met with a dangerous cliff of unwanted emotions. 

You thought about the other men in your life who have treated you nicer than what you'd expect from a man. 

You thought about Keeho. Even if it seemed as if your understanding of bonding was pulling a knife against each other's throats, you two clicked in an instant, acquiring the keys to each other's intellect the moment you met. It was admittedly cringey —and in some ways disgusting— to think that your current closest male friend had a thing for you, but your mind dipped itself into a messy whirlpool, unable to get out until the waters calmed. 

“Okay, so, I have a guy friend—” Keeho released an exaggerated gasp that surprised you and stopped you from finishing your sentence.

“You have other guy friends?” you were confused as to why he reacted that way, because what was his business with you having guy friends?

Is he jealous? Is he threatened? Does he like me— your mind had the most outrageous thoughts. Looking back at this sour memory, you realized that it was just Keeho being Keeho. He always had a knack for being so sarcastic like you were to him too. 

Then a second thought. Sungchan —that one senior that complimented you top to bottom, surface level then to your very soul, you were honestly rethinking your whole life and asked yourself a gazillion times over and over if you liked him.

He was two years ahead of you, and he was a student athlete too, but unlike that jerk who called your interests that you value most as trivial, Sungchan was rather sentimental. It got to a point where you'd forget that he was a guy and would talk to him like one of your girl friends. You gave him the nickname 'tough cookie', and you remembered that he had a custom made keychain with that nickname imprinted on it and you would always see it during their football matches since he had it attached to the zipper of his gym bag. 

“Why 'tough cookie'?” he had his arms crossed, head tilted as he looked at you with his doe eyes, lips forming a small pout as he waited for you to answer his question.

You froze for a moment, your eyes wandering around his figure —around where you shouldn't be looking.

“Xen?” you shook your head away from your anomalous thoughts after hearing his low and sweet sugared voice— “You okay?”

You cleared your throat. The question was simple, and the answer was even simpler. He was kind, warm-hearted, contrary to his gigantic stature. He was quite the guy.

Sungchan would leave the next year and you still had no idea if your mind was playing games with you or if you actually started seeing Sungchan in a different way. “Ugh!” a bitter taste was left in your tongue. He was nice enough to compliment your voice or the way your fingers delicately moved along the notes with your violin after the recitals where he'd watch, lend you his umbrella when you left yours at home or had lost it, walk you home when you finished practice late—

“He walked you home?” enter, Eza. 

You consider her your opposite in this situation. The ignorant and the delusional —she's the delusional one if you couldn't already tell. Eza has been around since freshman year, but it wasn't until mid-second year that you two would become inseparable. You two became friends through a reading assignment, she'd muster up all her courage to ask you about the full instructions given, unsure what to do after reading the passage. You're demure, and her constant praise left your mouth agape and your cheeks flushed. 

“Don't treat me like a celebrity, I could be just as trashy as everyone else.” —would prove to be true with every passing day.

Eventually, like every pair of highschoolers, you two would share each other's deepest secrets, the most embarrassing stories from your childhood and recently, family troubles, school troubles and love troubles —you'd hate to label them boy troubles.

“So you're saying he used to walk you home?” you shrugged at Eza who had such a distressed face. “Wha— wait, you didn't even, like, I don't know, suspect?” 

You shrugged again. “I don't know. I liked to think of him as a big brother, that's all.”

Eza sighed, crossing her arms and tilting her head, the same posture as Sungchan in your memories, everything was on point apart from her eyebrows that were nearly touching. “Well, can't blame you. But honestly, you're perfect.”

“Don't think so.” you shook your head as you looked down on your physics assignment.

“Assuming you're thinking about what could be wrong with you, but you know what I say? your imperfections make you perfect.” Eza took a sip from her canned coffee before speaking again. “Wouldn't be surprised if half of this school had a crush on you.”

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at her as you shook your head again. 

“Half of the school —except teachers and staff, that would be weird a-f.” you two would end up laughing together.

“That's so cliche of you Eza.” you chuckled. “But thank you.”

This would subside your thoughts of Sungchan, just for a while before you'd spend the rest of school hours sighing like it's a full time job because you were struggling to focus on anything.

It's been another year without him. He would never be brought up by Eza, Keeho, or any of your friends, but your mind would scoury the memories of him you had buried deep whenever you were put in such situations.

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And here it was again. 

“Stop messing around.” you chuckled and this would finally break a laugh out of Eza who struggled to take another bite of her food.

“It's true!” she exhaled through her laughter. 

You looked at her, piercing through her soul thinking what could be so funny that made her cackle uncontrollably like a chicken early in the morning. “The hell…”

She would suddenly stop and look at you, and in a serious tone would say, “He just whispered to me that—” she looks around the cafeteria, “Never mind.” 

You scoffed in disbelief. “Wow, you're so…”

You would end up bickering, and by the end of lunch you would give up on coercing and she would grow tired of poking at you and you two would just laugh it off in class. 

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅  ─────

Your finger tapped on the table as you patiently waited for the applicants you have chosen for the mini-interview to show up. It was the next day and you had some independent time before the actual start of your classes. You were done with all the juniors and were moving up to the folks around your year level. 

You leaned back to your seat and glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes, you had approximately fifteen minutes before you could stand up and tidy up the room, gather your things and take off for your first class of the day. 

You grabbed your phone that laid flat on its screen next to the application forms that laid before you and started typing out a message to be forwarded to the rest of the applicants yet to be interviewed that their time would be moved to lunch time, when suddenly, you hear a knock at the wide and welcoming door that you had left open. 

“Sorry, I'm pretty sure I'm late.” was all he said, only showing half of himself and hiding the other behind the wall.

“No, no, it's okay. Sohee, right?” you smiled at him, urging him to come in and take a seat. 

He stood, unmoved for five —no, eight seconds, you counted. Suddenly you started taking notice of things you had never bothered to even think of. His cheeks were rosy, but very subtly so that it blended in well with his skin —Adorable —you thought, smiling even more now.

He sat down on the seat across from you. You leaned in a bit, resting your elbows on the table. “What's your main motivation for joining this club —there's no wrong answers, and I'll be judgment free, go ahead.”

You. —Sohee gulped, his smitten self was, thankfully, enough to hold him back from his thoughts and start pouring everything out. Okay, control yourself, you got this, “I love to sing and I'm really looking forward to performing here.” —with you —he bit his bottom lip as he suppressed a smile.

However, your soft chuckle would make him lose his sanity for a mere second, blushing and smiling timidly.

You noticed it all, you just thought he was adorable, harmless. “Well, that makes sense. Your application form speaks for itself. Anyways, I'll be seeing you this Thursday. We'll be opening for the sportsfest the week after next, so, see ya Sohee!”

You extended your arm to him for a handshake which he gladly took. He would walk out first, having his little victory hops, slamming his fists into the air, and he would stop when he heard your soft giggles. You walked past him, waving goodbye as you headed to your homeroom.

“Shit.” he mumbled to himself, all hot-faced and startled. 

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅  ─────

You and Eza got into a call just an hour after getting home. You were 'studying' for the biology test the next day. 

“Oh my God, did you hear that a bunch of top-athletes from universities will visit tomorrow? oh wait, I think they said Friday.” you couldn't help but crack up at Eza's sudden eager sharing.

“Yeah? and is that a part of the parasympathetic or the sympathetic region?” you teased her off of her dithering that kept her away from the sole objective of your video call.

“Umm, I think so…” you bursted out laughing, your head going off-frame on Eza's phone screen. “I mean —GOD YEAH I'LL STUDY.” 

Laughter filled the speakers of your phones, and even with Eza's brief moment of bringing herself —and you— back to concentration, she'd come around to recounting everything she's been hearing around class and the school grounds. 

“I think they were invited to coach or something, well anyways, it wouldn't hurt anyone to eat lunch at the gymnasium, right?” with raised eyebrows, you looked at your friend as if she had eaten a roach. 

She'd guffaw at the look on your face, not stopping as you spoke. “What happened to 'boy-break'? You had just gotten over that Jung-idiot.”

Eza's laughter would be cut short, and soon you would be the one laughing when you saw her straight, but menacing face —not really menacing, but more of an attempt to be. “What happened to not bringing up the past? Girl, I'm over it, just stop bringing it up! literally, disgusting.” Eza shook herself, allowing the imaginary dust of her past relationship to fall off her shoulders.

“Okay! sorry!” you laughed. “But are you seriously gonna be eating lunch in the gymnasium? it's gonna smell like sweat, you're gonna want to throw up without even touching your food.”

“Ha! Nothing a cologne can't fix!” you would give Eza the same look you had given her when she had first brought up her otherworldly idea, and you two would laugh it all out at the end. 

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅  ─────

It was a typical Thursday, nothing special really, same amount of schoolwork, a couple of tests waiting to dawn on you by next week, and projects, some solo work and some group work in the mix. It was the end of the day, you were staying back for your two-hour practice.

You sat on your favorite stool, practicing with your violin, not minding the other sound that filled the room —it was mostly just Sohee's singing, he practiced as he listened to the original song whilst you and the others practiced the instrumentals simultaneously. 

Sohee would repeat and repeat until he got the notes and the riffs exactly like how it was as he heard it. If he was being honest, he only took long because he couldn't keep his eyes off of you —well technically he did for a few times when you looked close enough to his direction— and the way your knowing hands moved to the rhythm of the song as you played your instrument. He'd find himself re-adjusting the well-putted and untouched collar of his uniform when he saw your figure approaching him from the corner of his eye.

“Hi Sohee! how are you finding practice?” you popped a question as soon as you reach a respectable distance where you'd be able to hear him.

“Pretty good!” you could hear the excitement despite the slight shakiness of his voice, shaky, because it was at the end of his tongue, just compliment her, just do it. —he pushed himself hard but just couldn't get it out.

“Well, you should take a break, everyone else is on break right now —or if you want, I can help you with whatever you need help with.”  your inviting smile blocked off the synapses of his brain and he could only give you a nod as he gave you the same shy smile he had from the interview. 

You dragged a stool nearby and sat at the same spot where you stood from Sohee. You started munching on the small packet of jellies as you waited for him to start again. He looked at you for a moment, but you had your head down, focused on getting the lemon flavored jellies in the mix. He chuckled, hearing this, your fingers would stop digging for a while and his voice would fill the room, strong like a big symphony, but as beautiful as the moon shining against the river. 

It was your first time actually hearing him sing, no other sounds, just his pure voice drowning out the song playing out of his phone speakers that he sang along to. You were mesmerized —but this would be the first time you'd be enticed by someone you barely knew or shared any interactions or memories with. This was for sure something you will carry in your pocket for a long time. 

By the end of it, everyone gave him a round of applause, including you. You admired, not only the sound of his angelic voice, but the way he closed his eyes, deep in song. The song itself was not that deep, but he somehow made it sound like it was. It's the opening song for the sportsfest and it's really just a generic song about being passionate and aiming high for your dreams— yada-yada and all that stuff.

You were relieved to see that he was truly the performer as he made out to be in his application form. “That. Was. Incredible.” 

“Thank you.” he would say in a chuckle as his hand made its way to his nape. 

You two would give each other a small smile, and Keeho would give you a suspecting look from the other side of the room.

Throughout the rest of practice, things would proceed as they normally would —if you ignored the fact that Keeho, who sat right beside you, kept nudging you and asking, “What was that all about?” and you tried to ignore him by almost hitting the corner of his eye with your bow as you fixed your posture, preparing yourself to play. You were successful with keeping him off your back, but best believe he would bombard you with messages later on.

At the end of practice, when everyone started to leave one by one, you noticed that Sohee was still sitting on the sofa with earplugs on, presumably listening to the song he was practicing, and he just listened, tapping the ground with his foot in the same rhythm as the song.

You sat yourself next to him. His muscles would stiffen when it sensed your presence next to him a lot closer than the previous times. He hurriedly turned off the music that blocked off his ears and turned his attention to you, with not much as facing your general direction.

“We're about to close off the music room, if it's possible, you should walk with Keeho and I on the way home, it'll only be a few more minutes until the sky's completely dark.” Sohee could only briskly nod. “Alrighty, I'll just go get my stuff.”

Sohee watched you almost hop off the sofa as you went to grab your belongings urging himself to get his things fixed as well. 

The three of you walked to the bus stop together, as promised. Keeho would be the first to depart from the three of you, and you who sat on the seat in front of Sohee's, would move next to him where Keeho had sat before he left.

He was startled at first, but would assuage his jitters when he saw that you had your headphones on —assuming you didn't hear him mumble a little “shit.” when you sat down. 

You just sat, tapping on your thighs to the music you were listening to. Sohee caught a glimpse of what you were listening to, Locked Out of Heaven by Bruno Mars. He smiled to himself. He loves Bruno Mars, maybe, so did you. 

He started thinking of ways to converse with you, even just for a short time before any of you got out of the bus. You saw him take a deep breath, and when he faced you, he'd be flustered to see your winsome image —the corners of your lips rising up to your cheeks to form soft, little punctures at each end, and your eyes that smiled along at him as your lashes bounced with every tenuous blink. This little moment poked into the walls of his consciousness. 

“I love Bruno Mars.” —was all he could exude as he gazed down your enchanting aura. 

“Me too!” he felt like exploding when he heard your giggle, loud and clear tickling his ears. 

He gulped and looked down on his shoes for a brief moment, before facing you again, his smile a lot less prominent but maintaining the softness in his eyes. “I know you hear this a lot, but you're a very awesome person.”

You perked up from your seat, the gleam in your eyes shining its light onto him. “Thank you, Sohee.” you mellowly utter.

You two would talk more about your music preferences, some things about school, and he would tell you how and when he met Eza, it was short but sweet. He would get off the bus before you and he'd leave you a cheeky smile and a small wave as he got off. 

Enthused, he walked the rest of the way home, trying his best to abate his glee. Anyone who saw him might've thought he just won the lottery. Well, he truly just can't wait to go back to school.

That school is not bad after all, not at all. 

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅  ─────

There was something about Sohee that made his eventual friends stick to him. It was probably because he is just how you would expect him to be, bubbly on some occasions, he's quite the humorous guy and would subject you to some light teasing —or worse— when he knows you're comfortable with him, and most of all, he was just an excellent listener.

“Dude, Anton, you should just confess to Eza, it's been what —two years now?” Sohee's focus was with the basketball game in the arcade that only he and his friends occupied at that time.

“I don't know.” you heard Anton reply faintly.

“Well you should do something, anyways, how about you Sohee? Are you into anyone? or are you already seeing someone?” Seunghan jested at Sohee, poking him lightly as he tried to get an answer from him.

“Xen. I like Xen.” your name fell off his mouth and left such an ardent scent, and the smile only you could grant him, he wore it like a lip balm.

“Who doesn't honestly?” Seunghan's chuckle would be followed by a cough. “Well, I heard she and Sungchan had a thing and a bald eagle told me that Sungchan had come to visit the school.”

“Wow, could've just said 'Anton told me' and not call me a bald eagle.” Seunghan laughed at Anton, but Sohee was still focused, this time, not at his noticeably high score or the timer daring to run out, 

“Who even is that guy?” he mumbles in a volume he thought his friends wouldn't be able to hear.

“Oh, well, he only used to be the star athlete of this school, could've been Anton— Ow!” Seunghan would hit Anton back before he got to continue. “He's a great guy. Everybody loves him, the teachers, the students, probably Xen —and probably to a degree we have no business of knowing.”

Seunghan talked about this guy like how he would talk about his idols or one of his favorite superheroes. It would take him some time before realizing that Sohee had gone completely silent.

“Hey dude, I don't actually know if they're together, but, you're great too bro, just in a different way.” Sohee spaced out, he could still explicitly hear for his friends' yapping and feel Seunghan's arm over his shoulder, but all he could think about is you and this guy.

It was true that Sohee had joined the performing arts club to perform, showcase his singing. His love for singing was yet to be matched, but his motivations lie with you. 

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Your school would hold an orientation program every first day of school, for the freshmen and for the transferees. Since Sohee was a transferee, he was required to be there. He asked Eza to accompany him throughout the program, and the rest of the day so he could hopefully know the building a little better, know the right staircases and the right turns and where the cleanest restrooms are. The program was all 'blah, blah, blah' to him and he was sure he didn't miss much at all, but then you showed up. 

His eyes were locked on you when he saw your hair flowing with the wind as you walked to the center stage. Your singing was just as beautiful as your face and your delicate movements. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, the sight of you is something he thought he would only see on TV or envision in his mind whenever he read a book about fictional but utterly sensational things. Sensational, that's what you were. Everyone had adoring eyes, and Sohee was no exception —maybe that his adoration was particularly a lot stronger than everyone else's. 

He would hear your name out of one of the seniors who mc'd the program, it was beautiful that he'd subconsciously repeat it for himself, “Xen…”

Eza nudged at him, “That's my best friend. I've told you about her before.” she says, almost as if she was bragging.

When he had first heard about you, he didn't believe it. A singer who plays the violin, is an active student leader and graduated valedictorian in her elementary school, while also being one of the top students in her highschool? Impossible —he thought. But he was seeing you right there, with that smile that he wished he could see up close. 

He would see you again the next week, taking a peep in the music room. He saw you with your violin, you were only playing around, but nonetheless, the sound was beautiful, you are beautiful. Sohee would walk off sooner than he wanted, but he wouldn't forget to snatch an application form from the small table right next to the door of the music room.

He thought before that maybe you and Keeho might've had something going on since you two seemed to be together often, “She and Keeho are president and vice president of the club, and yeah, they're two pretty best friends.” —Eza refutes his thoughts as soon as he brings them up. “You don't have much to worry about, Xen doesn't like anyone from what she's told me.”

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Now he was starting to doubt Eza's words. Who is Sungchan? why's he never heard of him before? and if he truly was coming back, even if just for a while, what would he want with you then?

“Xen's birthday is up—”

“What does she like? What should I get her?” Sohee cuts his friend off through his phone's microphone.

Him and Eza got into a call that Friday night after he had hung out with his friends in the arcade.

“Damn girl, chill. We're going out, you should definitely come along —and before you cut me off again, the best gift would be something… sentimental? you can't really give her anything grand or expensive, she doesn't like those things.” Eza was still eating her dinner, but her spoon remained still as she waited for Sohee to respond.

“How do I even…” he was lost, trying to think of the many things he could give you.

“How about a song?”

“Huh?”

“A song. I don't know, maybe you can give her a handmade card with a qr code or something and put the song in there —but like, it would be you singing her favorite song.” Sohee had his eyes on the empty space on his bed beside him. 

His fingers toyed with the fabric, thinking about your favorite song. Maybe it's Locked Out of Heaven, no? —he questioned himself.

“It's Talking to the Moon, her favorite song.” Sohee would immediately snap out of his trance once he heard Eza. 

“Oh, thanks.” he was mumbling again, still deep in his thoughts wondering how he would do it, and most of all, how you'd react to it. 

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅  ─────

[fields-of-grimes]

Baby Boy | Carl Grimes

Carl Grimes x Fem!Reader

Request: Hii! So i was wondering if u could do Carl x Reader? A smut where the reader is the dominant one. Also if you don’t mind,mommy kink and praise kink

EVERYONE IS 18+

CW: Smut, Mommy Kink, praise kink, Dom!Reader Sub!Carl

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Carl was sitting next to Enid in the woods, he knew you hated it. He wasn’t gonna tell you, in his mind what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill you.

Enid and Carl said goodbye to each other as they got back over the gate. Carl walked to his house, when he got inside he assumed you weren’t back yet since he didn’t see you downstairs. He took his shoes off and went upstairs and into his room, he jumped seeing you facing the window. “Oh hey babe how was the run?” He asked walking up to you slowly.

“You bad bad boy. Disrespecting your mommy like that.” You said anger lacing your words as you whipped around to face him. Carl gulped as he looked at you. “I didn’t disrespect you, what are you talking about?” He asked hoping you hadn’t seen him in the woods, but he knew you did. He thought he had seen your silhouette but he just brushed it off.

You walked up to him lightly caressing his face. “I saw you with her baby boy, out in the woods. You know i don’t like her and you most definitely know i hate seeing her with you. So let me ask you. Why did you disrespect mommy like that?” You asked glaring at him. Carl dropped his head so he was starring at the floor. "I'm sorry mommy it won't happen again I promise." He said, you just sighed and walked to the bed laying on it. "Come here baby, show mommy just how sorry you are." You said smirking as you pulled off your pants and underwear.

Carl smiled softly and laid down so he was face-to-face with your pussy. He quickly inserted two fingers thrusting them fast but soft. You moaned softly, "good boy, just like that." You said petting his hair looking down at him, he just smiled in response before flicking his tongue on your clit repeatedly, he looked up at you searching for your approval. “Good boy, keep that up and I’m gonna cum.” You moaned out gripping his hair.

Carl continued to flick his tongue against your clit speeding up his fingers, he smiled lightly feeling you tighten around his fingers as you came. He pulled away and licked his fingers clean, he sat up and looked at you awaiting his fate, he knew if he did a good job you would give him a mind blowing, star seeing orgasm. But if he didn’t do good, well he actually didn’t know what happens if he didn’t do good.

You sighed and stood up putting your panties and pants back on. You stared at him before walking out of the room, you wanted to forgive him, you were going to until you realized he would just do it again.

You reached the front door before stopping. “Carl! Come here!” You yelled, laughing as you heard the quick stomping of him running to you. Once he reached you, you swung the door open and grabbed his arm pulling him along with you. The two of you went over the gate. “Take me to the spot you were hanging out with Enid.” You said smirking at his shocked face. He nodded and led you to the spot, once you both arrived he looked at you. He went to speak but you quickly cut him off. “Since you have decided to make this a hangout for you and Enid i want you to fuck me here. So every time you continue to disobey me and come here with her, you’ll have the constant reminder of how mommy made you feel.” You said smiling as he quickly nodded before kissing you roughly.

You kissed back sliding your tongue in his mouth quickly taking dominance, as you both undressed. He gently laid you down sliding into you slowly, moaning softly at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his dick, he thrusted his hips roughly but still being gentle. “Good boy.” You moaned out running your fingers over his chest. His thrust sped up as he kissed you again to silence both of your moans. You wrapped your legs around his waist allowing him to go deeper. He pulled away looking at you with the look that you liked to call his ‘orgasm approaching’ face. “Mommy I’m gonna cum.” He said whimpering. 

“I know baby boy, I’m close hold on just a little longer for mommy okay?” You moaned out clenching around him, “okay baby boy, cum.” You said as you both came at the same time. He pulled out and laid next to you breathing heavily. “That’s it, this is officially our place, I’m sorry for hanging out with Enid mommy, i promise i won’t do it again.” He said looking over at you. You smiled and kissed him softly. “It’s okay baby boy, let’s just relax for a few and then we’ll go back.” You said snuggling up to him.

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I’m back!!! Didn’t mean to dip on y’all but i lowkey forgot about these requests 😬 oops

[champagneandparacosm-archive]

Hi! Loving your carmy asks and I was wondering if you could do something with ❛ you better watch your fucking mouth. ❜ maybe she's mouthing off in the kitchen and carmy just won't stand for being disrespected in his own kitchen!

AH, thank you!! 

Youuuu were so bratty that day. Just in a mood, and Carmen fucking yelling that you need to get the goddamn prep done or he was gonna flip his shit. His sarcasm urged your sarcasm on, and then you two were just screaming in the kitchen with Richie egging you both on with his stupid fucking self. Like seriously, Richie, shut the FUCK up. 

“Just fucking get it done! I needed more onions yesterday!” He seethed, hand smacking the counter, a little aggressive if you asked yourself. You sent him a just as aggressive glare, wishing to stab him in the shoulder. He so deserved it today. 

“Okay, and I fucking needed you to shut the fuck up like a week ago, yet here you are… In my face, bothering me! And now I’m getting behind on my goddamn onions the longer you stand here and bitch around!” 

The glare. It shook you to your core. But what happened after… left you trembling. 

HIs right hand shot out, so fast you didn’t have time to doge it, to grab your jaw. It was firm, but he didn’t hold you hard enough to make it hurt. Inches from your face now, you could feel his hot breath and the threatening seriousness radiating against your lips. “You better watch your fucking mouth.” He growled, low and raspy, the voice you had grown to love, only hearing it when he was getting you flustered and turned on…. Almost exclusively when you were about to get your shit rocked and punished. Swallowed the pathetic lust creeping up your throat, nodding slightly with what his grip on your chin would allow. “Yes, chef.” He knew he had you when he heard your timid reply, licking his lips. You felt so fucking dumb. You just knew everyone was staring at you, the kitchen having gone silent to listen to your bickering. 

“Thank you, chef…” He replied, feeling the eyes. And then… he gave you that look. THAT look that told you to haul your ass in gear to get your shit done and to book it into his office for your punishment. You had received that look so many times before, it was just a given that your head tilted in a nod. Carmy sighed, clearing his throat and removing himself from your presence. You knew what he would be doing in the office: adjusting himself and trying to cool off. It made your knees weak just thinking about, not giving Tina the satisfaction of meeting her gaze as you returned to the onions, slicing through them faster than she had ever seen you do. 

You saw Carmen slip out for a smoke break, gathering the finished onions into their respective place before washing your hands and following him out. You caught him mid-inhale, his eyes shifting over to the door opening, hardening as he saw you. You didn’t say anything, coming up to a few feet away from him. You stood there for what seemed like ever, the two of you glaring each other down like some weird foreplay. You assumed he was waiting for you to break, the tension building steadily with each passing second. It was becoming unbearable. But you didn’t want to crack. Not today after the stunt he pulled. 

“You can’t fucking do that in front of everyone, carmen.” You said softly, still reeling after his last outburst. ‘Watch your fucking mouth.’ Jesus, he was so hot when angry. 

“And you can’t fucking speak to me like that. In my own damn kitchen.” He said, drawing from the cigarette, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you. You huffed. 

“You started it! You were treating me like yesterday trash, carmen, Jesus! You fucking have no respect-“ There went his hand again to your face, pulling you up against his body, now painfully aware of his bulge against your middle. You whimpered, his hips rocking ever so slightly against you. 

“Respect? That’s fucking funny coming outta that mouth of yours.” He chuckled, but he didn’t think it was humorous at all. “Looks like that mouth needs a reminder of what it’s good for, what do you think?” Deathly quiet against your lips, his teeth grabbing at your bottom lip. “yes, chef.” You murmured, more of a beg than anything. You heard static, leaning into his embrace, trying to catch his lips but he pulled away from you. Fucking tease. This was a dangerous game. Anyone could walk out and catch you, but you couldn’t seem to think of that at the moment. All you could think of was the way his hand held your jaw, driving you down to your knees. Your eyes raked up to meet his stare. He flicked the cigarette butt down a ways into the alley, your mouth agape ever so slightly. He looked so good in that moment, and you realized you were so about to give your boss a blow job in the alley. Yes, boyfriend, but right now… He was your boss. A hot, sweaty, sexy boss that was frustrated beyond belief. 

“Gotta be quick, chef.” He said, releasing you from his hand to work his jeans undone. You nodded. Carmen was putty in your hands anytime you had him in your mouth. It never took long when you really tried to get his cum shooting down your throat. Ten minutes tops. Five minimum. 

As soon as he had his dick in your view, your mouth shot open, tongue falling out, swallowing him whole as you had grown accustomed to doing. His shiver brought you immense pleasure, spurring you on. “You be good and get me off and when we get home I won’t tease you as much.” He graveled, hand lacing into your hair loosely tied back, guiding you on and off of him. You hummed around him in response, hollowing your cheeks to create a form of suction. “Fuck,” he grunted, “Can’t talk back now, can you? You fucking like it, don’t you? Mouth full of my cock… Choking on it like the good slut you are. Much better use for your mouth than talking back, huh?” He didn’t expect a response, but you gave a curt nod, eyes tearing up with a small gag, him pushing his dick further into your throat as a point. “So good at sucking my dick, baby…” How quickly he turned soft, twitching already inside of your mouth. The edges of your mouth curled up in a smile despite the pain in your knees. It was worth it to feel the hot stream of him cum down your throat not even five minutes later and the deep groan sputtering from his lips. You took every bit of him, swallowing his load, his pulling out of you with a heavy sigh. You wiped spit from your mouth with the back of your hand, him helping you stand up after tucking himself back into his pants. “Thank you, chef.” He smirked, pecking your lips once, then another longer kiss. “Can’t wait to be balls deep your pussy later, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear, moving to head back inside, your heart slamming against your chest, breath knocked from your lungs. 

[bobafetts-princess]

Kinktober Day 5- Breeding

Pairings: Alpha!Paz x AFAB!Omega!Reader (I don’t think there’s anything specifying a female reader, just an AFAB one. If you catch one let me know!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, some Alpha’s are jerks, fingering, knotting, Paz is soft for his Omega

Word count:2k

Summary: Your heat hits early and Paz helps you take care of it

You’re walking through the halls of the compound, heading to speak to the Armorer about making new weapons for the foundlings when the camp’s Alpha’s start acting weird. They’re shooting you sidelong glances and inhaling deeply. You can only assume they smell your desperation for your own Alpha, Paz Vizsla, and they’re itching to take advantage. He’s been gone for over a week, two months after you bonded during his rut.

An Alpha approaches you, a new one to the compound, and asks about where Paz is but you brush him off. Everyone in the compound knows that he went on a scouting mission, trying to find more food and weapons for the clan. He snarls, you can hear it from under the helmet, as he sniffs at you and grabs you by the arm.

“I asked you where your Alpha is, Omega,” he snaps, fingers digging into the softness of your inner arm. The way he says ‘omega’, like it’s some kind of insult instead of a biological term pisses you off.

“Fuck you, where my Alpha is at is none of your business,” you snarl at him, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. You can smell him, rage and arrogance rolling off his frame in waves. “We don’t put hands on our Omegas here. Omegas are highly respected in this compound and if you mistreat one, especially one that’s already bonded, you’ll be out on your ass in a heartbeat,” you say, trying to send out a scent signal that you weren’t to be messed with.

“You should learn how to hold your tongue, Omega, it’ll get you into trouble. If you were my mate-“ he starts but a strong and familiar scent washes over you, relaxing you. It’s your own Alpha, back from his mission, and your own scent immediately mixes with his. His big strong hand wraps around your waist, pulling you against his armored chest.

“She’ll never be your mate, so it doesn’t matter what you think a mate should be,” he snaps, his scent as sharp as his tone and a tiny cramp hits your stomach. The other Alpha is helmeted, so you can’t read his expression, but you can smell it. He’s annoyed, angry, and defensive. He’s disrespected the clans head Alpha and his mate, he’s expecting a fight. Normally Paz would challenge him, he doesn’t allow newcomers to disrespect the clan, omegas specifically and definitely not his own bonded omega. You’re sure he’s getting ready issue a challenge when another cramp hits your belly. Paz smells your distress first, head snapping over as he looks at you. He sniffs again, a deeper sniff as he tries to decipher the other scent. He must find what he’s sniffing for because a low growl comes from deep in his chest and his scent turns red hot with anger.

It’s about the same time you realize what’s happening, because a third cramp hits your stomach and you realize what kind of cramps these are. Your heat is two weeks early and it explains the way some of the Alpha’s have been acting around you today. You try to rack your brain to figure out why it would be so early but you come up blank as the first waves of desire hit your core. Your oncoming heat is probably the reason this Alpha decided to try and strong arm you as well.

“I’ll deal with you later,” he growls and you can feel the anger in his voice. Another cramp hits your belly, stronger than the last three, and it almost doubles you over. Paz’s strong arms wrap around your waist and ushers you down the hall, back to your shared quarters. You pass Din Djarin on the way and vaguely hear Paz mumble something to him, but another cramp hits and you don’t hear what it is.

The two of them have formed an unlikely friendship since Paz started courting you and they’ve gotten closer since the two of you bonded. Later you’ll realize it had something to do with the Alpha who threatened you, but the first waves of desire are hitting your system and all you can think about is getting back your room. The scent of your heat must be getting stronger because Paz has to tell several other clan members to back off before you finally make it to your room.

As soon as the door shuts behind your bodies, you’re on him, clawing at his armor and his helmet while he chuckles and moves your hands so he can do it himself. The cramps have gotten worse and you take to rubbing your face on any part of him you can reach until he gets his helmet and undershirt off and he thrusts the cloth material at you. You inhale deeply, taking in the scent of your bonded mate as he fully undresses. It’s a brief reprieve from the pain as you soak in the scent of your Alpha. You’re mewling, a whimpering sound that shoots straight to Paz’s cock as he finishes undressing. Once he’s finished he works at your clothes, doing his best to get them in fewer motions than usual.

Finally, Paz has you both fully undressed and he’s on you immediately, scenting you and providing some relief to the ache in your belly. The waves of desire take over your body and you grind on his thick thigh to get some friction against your clit.

“My little Omega,” he groans, his full lips pressing against the mark he’d placed months ago, “you smell so good.” You sigh, pressing yourself against him as he works your shirt and pants off. One hand slips between your legs, large middle finger stroking your clit and you nearly collapse with relief.

“Alpha. Paz,” you cry out as he continues to stroke, “why is my heat early?” You cry, nearly sobbing with relief when he slips two fingers inside you. The relief is so intense that it brings you to the cusp of an orgasm immediately.

“It’s your first heat since we’ve been bonded,” he explains. “It makes sense that your heat would come early,” he drags some of your wetness around your clit with two fingers and you come undone, clutching to his shoulders as you come.

“I need more Alpha, please I need your knot,” you beg, grinding yourself on his thigh again. His chuckle reverberates through your body as he pushes you to the bed, grabbing some of your favorite blankets as he goes. He tosses them on the bed as he gives you an order.

“Present, Omega,” he commands, allowing the Alpha to drip into his voice. You scramble to obey, on your elbows and knees on the bed, back arched for him to see the slick between your legs. “Good Omega,” he purrs, sliding his fingers along the backs of your thighs and over the round of your ass. You preen at the praise, spreading further for him so he can dip two fingers inside you.

“Anything for my Alpha,” you croon, the submission in your voice prevalent. His fingers work your pussy, smearing the slick all over your clit as he preps you for him. Paz isn’t a small man and he wants to make sure he won’t hurt you as he slides home but your heat is hitting hard and you don’t want to wait.

“Alpha, please. Want your knot. Need it,” you plead, wiggling your hips and making your ass shake. You hear him start to protest but you whine, deep and needy in your chest. Whining for your Alpha to take you, fill you with his knot and his pups and his need for you takes over.

“I’ll be gentle, precious Omega,” he promises but you don’t care. You just want him to mount you, fill you, knot you. You whine again, pressing back against him as his hands grab your hips and his cock nudges at your pussy. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says, pressing the head into your slick-soaked entrance. You mewl, just the one small motion giving you intense relief and you press back, needing more. Paz growls, your need pressing primal desires deep in his chest as he pushes forwards.

“Pussy feels good, mesh’la,” he groans once he’s fully inside you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. He drags himself back out, slow and steady, the head of his cock catching as he pushes back in. His pace is steady but it’s not enough for you, deep in the need of your heat. Your hips start moving, pressing back against him, fucking yourself on his cock. You’re panting, the word Alpha rolling off your tongue with the punch of his cock into you. You’re close again, pussy clenching on your Alpha and his heavy breaths let you know he’s close too. His fingers slip around to your front, wet from his mouth as he strokes your clit and begs you to come.

“Come for me, my pretty Omega, so I can give you my knot. Fill you with my seed, breed you full with my pups,” his words are like electric shocks to your clit as he strokes but he doesn’t let up. “Wanna see your breasts heavy with milk, see my younglings nursing from you with another heavy in your belly,” the idea of being full of his pups, his offspring, sends you over the edge. Your pussy clamps down, milking your Alpha as he reaches his own end. He groans your name, not Omega your actual name, as his knot swells and pops and locks the two of you together. He collapses on you for only the briefest moment before he rolls, pulling you into him as he spoons you, cock still buried deep inside you.

“I hope this takes, my precious Omega, I’d love to see your belly swollen with my pups,” he muses, hands stroking your belly softly. You mewl, hands and face searching out for your soft blankets that smell like your Alpha. Paz grabs them, covering your bodies with the softest and warmest blankets he can reach while still being connected to you. You rub your face over his arm while it’s tucked under your head, scenting him as much as you can from your position.

“Sleep my precious Omega, you’ll need your rest for the next few days. Your heat will be stronger since we are bonded now,” Paz explains, curling his body around you. You nod, eye closing with exhaustion as you dream of the future with your Alpha.

You wake in the morning, alone in your bed but surrounded your favorite blankets, with one of Paz’s shirts tucked right up against your face. Desire is the first emotion you feel, exhaustion from the night before is the second. The third you feel is love because when you raise up to find your Alpha, you realize that he built your nest for you in the middle of the night, finding the softest and best smelling items in your small home to surround you with. It’s not perfect but that doesn’t matter because your big, strong, scary Alpha built a nest for his Omega in the middle of the night. He comes in a half second later as tears fill your eyes at the sweet gesture.

“What’s the matter, my Omega?” He asks, dropping the caf and breakfast on the side table.

“You made my nest?” You sniffle and he chuckles.

“Of course, my sweet,” he offers,” our pups will want a nest and I need to know how to build one just in case.” He’s so kind and thoughtful and it makes you cry and forget about your heat for a moment. “Are these good tears?” He asks, a little hesitantly. You nod, digging your face into his neck and knowing that there’s no better Alpha out there in the world for you.

Tags: @darkhairedmenrule @starlitnotes @rexandechosandwich @lacroix-qblog @grinningnexu @firstofficerwiggles @too-manyfandomstocount