#what i loved most about it was moments like the above

[hottestvirgin]

TRUST ME | PARK SUNGHOON

₊˚⊹ ᰔ plot. after months and months of convincing, you finally let your boyfriend go further.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ warnings(17+). smut, sex, virginity loss, dirty talk, corruption, manipulation, name-calling, rough sex.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ A/N. thank you sm for 1K! i'm still taking requests and i'm sorry for disappearing for damn near a month so here's a lil sumn <3

“you trust me?” sunghoon asked, licking his plush lips with a small glint in his eyes. of course you did. he was your boyfriend after all— someone you trusted more than anything.

and of course, sunghoon loved you. but he wanted more. he couldn’t kiss you without fantasizing about how you’d feel around him; snug and warm. he would fist his cock every night at the thought of your tight, wet cunt around him, squeezing and milking him all he’s worth.

he'd think about how sensitive your pretty body would be since he’d be the first man to ever touch you. and most of all, he couldn’t wait to turn you into his desperate slut who'd beg for his dick with any chance you'd get.

“of course,” you told him. deep down, you knew that those two words would change everything and finally grant him full access to your body for once. you were ready, and so sunghoon quickly found himself in between your thighs, franticly rocking into you.

“keep talking to me, baby,” he ragged, slowly and painfully splitting you open on his thick cock with each pump of his hips. “let everyone know who the fuck owns this pussy now.”

all you knew was to clench around him, the foreign pleasure sending intense shockwaves throughout your body that you couldn't handle. “b-baby—i can’t.. can’t take it!” you mewled. goosebumps formed all over your body as you held onto anything that was accessible; sheets, pillows, his thick arm.

but in sunghoon's defense, he was too lost in your warmth and wetness. he used and bruised your pulsing hole like a sex toy, rutting into you with every muscle in his body. he loved how your dripping cunt struggled to accommodate his size, fluttering walls stretching painfully just to take him.

“you’re so soft,” he grunted. his thumb slid between both of your hot bodies to stroke your swollen clit and you clenched harder around him with a sudden gasp. “mm, you like when i touch that slutty pussy?” he delivered a powerful slap against the bud, “hm?”

“yes! ah.. love it.” you hiccupped and threw your head back against the pillow, hands gripping onto his forearms as he continued to rut into your body. nothing could have prepared you for this. he was obsessed and drunk on how small and helpless you looked beneath him, each drag of his cock had you holding your breath and wanting more.

sunghoon let out a low, rough grunt. “this pussy’s mine now. say it for me.” your boyfriend licked his lips and embraced your body, stomach-churning at the lewd faces you made.

“i-it’s yours.” you moaned, voice shaky and needy. everything's so wet, sloppy, and messy. he could feel his balls getting tighter, that aching feeling in his abdomen that could only fill his mind with the idea of pumping you full of his cum. "what’s mine baby?” he squeezed your thighs and increased his pace, chuckling when your words got caught in your throat.

your breath hitched when you felt his tip stroke that spot again, “my pussy.. s’ yours.” it was almost a yell. he pinned your wrists above your head, “good girl.” he praised.

legs trembling against his body, nails digging into his shoulders, incoherent noises leaving your mouth.. you couldn't even focus anymore because all you could think about was your man and his fat cock reaching and poking the deepest parts of you.

you were drooling— sentences coming to a start before fading away. at that moment, you wanted more. you needed more. you wanted him to go deeper, faster, harder— to make it hurt so bad that it feels so good. you wanted him in ways you've never felt before.

"i'm gonna cum." he whimpered with small, shaky breaths. it made your stomach twist in arousal, it was so fucking hot. you loved how your body had him like this. he nuzzled his sweaty face into your neck, "f-fuck.. Y/N."

he continued to punch breathless moans out of you, squeezing your hips in desperation. it didn't take much time before you were convulsing around him, your body tensing and coating his base with a creamy, white ring. and he continued to fucked his cum into you, making you glad that you said those two words.

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

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[thatdammchickennugget]

hello!

are you taking requests?

(if you've already done this before, just ignore this, but...)

if you are, can you write a one-shot about mattheo and reader just doing something together, like maybe they're partners for potions or something or they just happen to sit at the same table in the library, but mattheo notices that the reader has some noticible scars, and they kind of just bond over scars? like the reader is kind of just uncomfortable talking about them, and mattheo notices so he starts pointing out his own scars and how he got them?

(btw, i love your writing! <3)

Marked by scars

pairing - mattheo riddle x gn!reader

warnings - mention of scars, fluff, mattheo is a softie, not proof read

wordcount - 1.8k

a/n - heya!! thank you so much! I wasn't planning on writing today but I saw this request and just had to do it right away. thanks for requesting, love💕

The edge of the Forbidden Forest loomed ominously as you trudged alongside Mattheo. Professor Slughorn's latest assignment had paired you with the notorious Slytherin, a boy rumored to be as prickly as the thorns lining the forest's edge.

The assignment had looked simple enough, the only catch: the most important ingredient of the potion – purple moonshade – was not to be found in the Professor’s cabinet and seemed to be out of stock at Hogsmeade, leaving the two of you to collect some yourself.

"Are you sure we're headed in the right direction?" you asked, glancing skeptically at the dense undergrowth around you.

The Slytherin cast a sideways glance at you, his expression unreadable behind his usual mask of indifference. "It should be around here," he replied curtly, his eyes scanning the canopy above.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. You had expected arrogance and disdain when Professor Slughorn put you two together, everything you had known about him coming from random bits of conversation you caught around the castle. But so far, Mattheo had been surprisingly cooperative—focused on the task at hand without unnecessary confrontation.

As you approached a rocky outcrop, Mattheo suddenly halted, his gaze fixed on a ledge just out of reach. "There," he murmured, pointing to a cluster of delicate purple blooms clinging to the sheer rock face.

Your heart sank. Apparently, this wasn’t going to be as quick and easy as you had hoped. "How are we supposed to get up there?"

He studied the incline, calculating silently. "We'll have to climb."

With a reluctant nod, you began scaling the rocky terrain, your hands gripping onto jutting rocks and roots for leverage. Mattheo followed suit, his movements much more fluid and controlled. As you reached for a higher ledge, you cringed as you felt your shirt ride up slightly, revealing a network of scars—some thin and faded, others more pronounced and jagged—across your side.

Mattheo's gaze flickered downwards, his brow furrowing imperceptibly. The tension in his shoulders stiffened, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly averted his eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably, the sudden awareness of his scrutiny making your skin prickle. "What?" you asked, your voice tinged with unease.

he hesitated, his usually composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I... I didn't realize," he started, his voice softer than usual.

You finally crawled up onto the ledge next to the flower and pulled your shirt down quickly, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. "It's... it's nothing," you muttered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Mattheo didn't respond immediately, his silence stretching as he climbed up beside you and settled onto the rocky ledge. The delicate purple blooms swayed gently in the breeze, their fragrance mingling with the earthy scent of the forest.

Finally, after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual yet tinged with a newfound empathy. "It's not nothing," he began, his eyes fixed on the delicate purple petals. "They tell stories."

You swallowed, unsure how to respond to this. The forest around you seemed to hold its breath, as if mirroring your own unease.

"They're stories I'd rather forget," you admitted softly, trying to steady your voice.

Mattheo nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I used to feel the same about mine," he confessed, his fingers absently tracing a particularly prominent scar on his forearm.

Curiosity mingled with apprehension as you stole a glance at him, surprised by his openness. "You don’t anymore?"

Mattheo met your gaze with a hint of introspection, his fingers still idly tracing the scar on his forearm. "No, not anymore," he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a weight of vulnerability that mirrored your own.

You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by his unexpected openness. "What changed?" you asked softly, your curiosity outweighing your earlier discomfort.

His gaze flickered towards the canopy of leaves above your heads, as if searching for the right words. "Time, I suppose," he began slowly. "Understanding. Acceptance." His voice held a note of resignation, as if he had come to terms with something profound.

Mattheo took a deep breath, his gaze returning to meet yours with a newfound intensity. "Understanding that these scars, they're not just reminders of pain. They're markers of survival, of growth," he explained, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion.

You listened intently, captivated by the sincerity in his words. The forest around you seemed to echo his sentiments, the rustling leaves and distant calls of magical creatures creating a serene backdrop to your conversation.

"I used to hide them," he continued, his tone reflective. "Like they were something to be ashamed of. But then I realized... they're a part of me. Each scar tells a story of a challenge I faced and overcame."

A gentle breeze stirred the branches overhead, casting dappled shadows across the rocky ledge where you sat. You shifted slightly, feeling a sense of kinship with Mattheo's vulnerability. "I've never thought of it that way," you admitted softly, your gaze drifting to the scars that adorned your own skin.

Mattheo's expression softened, a faint smile playing at his lips. "It took me a while to see it too," he confessed. "But I've come to appreciate them now. I guess my friends helped me with it. Made me see them as a testament to resilience."

His words resonated deeply within you, touching a chord you hadn't realized was there. "Resilience," you echoed, the word carrying a weight of significance as you considered the scars that had once caused you so much discomfort.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of yours," he said gently, his voice carrying an earnestness that surprised you. "They're a part of your journey."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude towards him for his understanding. "Thank you," you murmured. "For... for sharing this with me."

As you sat together on the rocky ledge, the forest around you seemed to embrace the quiet intimacy of your conversation. Mattheo shifted slightly, his gaze thoughtful as he met yours. "Would you like to hear about one of mine?" he offered tentatively, his tone inviting yet cautious.

You nodded, grateful for his willingness to share. "I'd like that," you admitted, a flicker of curiosity sparking in your eyes.

Mattheo took a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "This scar," he began, indicating the one that crossed his nose, "came from my first year at Hogwarts."

Intrigued, you leaned in slightly, eager to hear more.

"I got into a rather... heated disagreement with Theo," Mattheo continued with a small, self-deprecating smile. "We used to hate each other, clashed right from the start. I suppose we were both trying to prove ourselves in our own ways."

He chuckled softly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he recalled the memory. "Theo and I were like fire and ice back then," he admitted, shaking his head with amusement. "Always at each other's throats over the smallest things. It didn't help that we were both sorted into Slytherin—like two stubborn bulls in a pen."

You couldn't help but laugh at the image he painted, the tension of the moment easing as his story unfolded. "What was the disagreement about?" you asked, genuinely curious about the details of their early rivalry.

Mattheo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Honestly, I can't even remember now," he confessed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Probably something ridiculously trivial, like who could brew a better potion or who could cast a spell faster."

You nodded in understanding. "So, what happened?" you prompted, eager to hear more.

Mattheo leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Well, it escalated to a duel, of course," he admitted with sheepish a grin. "We were both so caught up in proving ourselves that we didn't see sense. And, well..." He gestured casually to the scar across his nose. "The spell ricocheted off a mirror and zapped me right here."

You winced sympathetically, though his lighthearted tone made the mishap seem less dire. "Ouch," you commented.

"Yeah, not my finest moment," Mattheo agreed with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling warmly. "But you know what? That scar became a badge of honor between us. After that incident, we realized how ridiculous we were being."

"It sounds like quite the turning point," you remarked.

He nodded, a fondness in his gaze as he recalled the aftermath. "Absolutely. He’s my best friend now. We laugh about it now, but back then, it was a wake-up call. Sometimes you need a scar—literal or metaphorical—to show you what's important."

"I suppose you should thank Theo then," you quipped, a playful grin tugging at your lips, surprised by how quickly he managed to cheer you up. "That scar does add to your rugged charm, after all."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, absolutely," he replied with mock seriousness. "It's my signature look now. Makes me look like I've been through some epic battles."

"I guess you could say it gives you that mysterious, battle-hardened aura," you added, your tone light and teasing.

Mattheo grinned, a genuine warmth in his eyes that softened his usually guarded expression. "Well, if it helps with the intimidation factor, I'll take it.”

As you both sat on the rocky ledge, the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow over the forest floor. After a moment, he turned back to you. "Ready to head back?" he asked, gesturing towards the bag of carefully collected flowers.

You nodded, grabbing the bag and sitting up on your knees. "Definitely.”

Mattheo stood up gracefully, extending a hand to help you down from the ledge. "Careful there," he cautioned gently as you maneuvered your way down, his touch steady and reassuring.

"Thanks," you murmured gratefully.

Together, you navigated the rocky terrain back towards the Hogwarts grounds, the forest slowly fading into the background as the castle came into view. The journey back was quieter than before, but not awkward—there was a newfound ease between you, a shared understanding forged through what he confided in you.

As you approached the castle gates, Mattheo glanced over at you, his expression softening with a hint of sincerity. "I'm glad we managed to find the moonshade," he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before flicking away.

"Me too," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips. "And... thank you, for what you told me. I didn't expect... well, any of this."

He inclined his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his dark curls tumbled across his forehead. "Neither did I," he confessed, his voice earnest. "But I'm glad it turned out this way."

"Thanks again, Mattheo," you said softly, hesitant to step away yet and unable to suppress a small smile.

"Anytime," he replied quietly, his voice carrying a warmth that surprised you.

With a nod of farewell, you turned to make your way to your common room, your mind buzzing with thoughts of the Slytherin boy.

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[marquezian]

David Alonso and Marc Márquez: a history

David has often mentioned Marc as his idol and reference and they've started getting to know each other over the past year so I thought I'd compile all the times where they've mentioned each other. Mostly in chronological order. Bon appétit and thank you for reading! (Gifs are mine, quotes are compiled by me and auto-translated by deepl, sources are at the end of quotes.)

Who is David Alonso?

"David Alonso is the kind of boy I like, shy, attentive. You talk to him and he looks at you with those eyes" – Marc Márquez

David is an 18 year old colombian Moto3 rider who currently rides for CF Moto Aspar Team. He's described as mature, shy, sweet and warm by people working with him, riders, journalists and pundits alike. He's very quickly become a hot topic due to his achievements and controlled, calm yet ruthless way of riding. He achieved his first Moto3 win in Silverstone 2023, where he started from P28, making up 27 places and finishing first, from there he's been pretty unstoppable.

David has been in the care of Nico Terol, a friend and former rival of Marc's, since 2018, when he was 11. Nico Terol is currently Aspar's sporting director and he has been mentoring and taking care of the junior careers of quite a few kids since at least early 2017, his method is to take in very young talent and build them a stable, supportive and loving environment, even outside of his role at Aspar.

Something I don't often see discussed is that Marc himself supports and trains with a few upcoming talents, mainly Moto2 rider Diogo Moreria and Junior rider Máximo Quiles, with Máximo being properly managed by talent management company Vertical which is founded and run by Marc and Alex.

Marc on Nico: "I love the way the Aspar team works, but especially Nico Terol. We are friends and I love the way he works, because he takes the riders to the right place and that's good." (source)

In 2021 David won the Red Bull MotoGP Rookies Cup, where he met Marc for the first time. Here's David talking about that:

Q: With Marc you did [talk to him] and you had the nerve to approach him for advice. How was that? David: I'm quite shy about that, but the first time we spoke was when I won the Rookies championship in Aragon. I was going towards the tent after collecting the trophy and a car was coming, a Honda, and you couldn't see who was in it. It stopped right in front of me, rolled down the window and it was Marc Márquez. That was the first moment. I didn't know how to speak or anything and I almost dropped the trophy from my hand. He congratulated me, told me to keep going and to listen to Nico. That was the first time he spoke to me, because I almost couldn't even talk to him because I was so nervous. After that, in Misano, and when I was already in [CEV Moto3] Junior, I talked to him more relaxed and asked him for some advice about the track. I think it was in 2021. (source)

In 2023 David won in Thailand where Marc came out of his box to excitedly congratulate him. (see gif above)

David about this moment: Q: What did you think about Marc Márquez coming out to the pit-lane to congratulate you on your trip to parc fermé? David: (His face lights up with a broad smile). That made me very happy when I saw him. I slammed on the brakes right away to give him a hug. From time to time, when I have the chance, I talk to him and the truth is that I try to listen and pay attention to everything he says, because he is an eight-time world champion. Q: What did he say to you in that hug in the pit-lane? David: He congratulated me and told me: "Vamos, you can do it". (source) Q: Márquez came to celebrate last year's victory in Thailand with you. David: It was nice that the person you admire the most comes to you, that he takes the time to come out of his box and come to congratulate me was the best thing about the race and I was really shocked. (source) Marc about this moment: "I saw Alonso's race and I just came out to applaud him, because he deserves it. I like him very much since he came to the World Championship and I remember very well his first race, when he was in the Rookies Cup, when he came and asked me and asked me for advice on what to do in one and another corner. He is very nice and I like him very much. When I went out to applaud him, he slammed the brakes and I told him: 'Trust that you can do it'. I did it because he is not so far away in the World Championship, but it is true that there are riders with much more experience, such as Masiá, who I think is the title favorite, but he is the rookie and I wish him the best, especially because he is already the rookie of the year." (source)

Other quotes:

Marc on David in August 2023: "David Alonso is a talent and he's a very well-behaved guy. [...] David Alonso is the kind of boy I like, shy, attentive. You talk to him and he looks at you with those eyes. I remember last year he made his debut at Misano, I think, and I met him in the paddock. He asked me to give him some advice for Misano, or was it two years ago when he was racing in the Rookies Cup? Anyway, he's one of the guys I like and I hope he succeeds. When he gets his body in shape he's going to go even faster than he is now." (source)

Q: Of all the advice Márquez has given you since you've been talking to him, which has been the most valuable? David: I like, for example, that when I got my first victory there were many congratulations and he told me: "Keep insisting, it's time to keep pushing." That marked me a lot. (source)

Marc on David after Thailand 2023: "When asked if he believes that the Colombian from Madrid has something special, as he once detected and told us about Pedro Acosta, the eight-time champion said that "he has something, obviously. They are very young and the question is that later they can stagnate or continue to progress, it depends. When you are so young, because you are seeing with Aldeguer, the sporting bumps affect you a little more and you are not yet as mature. If the bumps affect you when you are thirty years old, then when you are 18 even more so, and even more so now with the film of social networks and all this. Before there wasn't all this. When I was in 125cc or Moto2, the social networks were not so powerful and you practically didn't know what people were saying. Now, if you are a young kid, you can lose a lot of time there, so all this makes you mature, but you are maturing in front of the cameras and everything is visible." (source)

"In terms of riding style I'm a bit like Márquez, braking hard, a bit the opposite of Jorge Lorenzo, who was more refined. In character I'm also a bit like Márquez. (laughs)" (source)

David interviewed by Mela Chércoles in November 2023: Q: I am one of those who think that there are riders with whom the mold was broken at birth and that you are one of them, as Acosta or Márquez were before. I don't know how far you will go, but you are a special rider and it is something that Marc has also said. How do you feel when you hear things like that? David: Booah. Q: Let's be clear that what Márquez says has much more weight than what I say in this sense, of course. David; Well, it impresses me. I like what they said, but there are many factors. Even if it seems that I have a good path, if I deviate, no matter how many molds can be broken, I can't get there. I have to continue in the same way and, since I've started well, continue along that line. Q: Márquez is your idol, isn't he? David: Yes, and Casey Stoner too. Q: What do you like most about Marc? David: What I like the most about Marc is also his hunger and the attitude he always has with a smile on his face. Q: It's a little bit of a Joker's smile, isn't it? David: Yes. (He smiles). Q: I say he's a cannibal who's always hungry. David: Yes. He smiles but... I like that he even makes you smile when you see an interview with him. Q: I have an interview with him in Qatar. What would you like to ask him if you were in my shoes? What would be the million-dollar question? David: As a journalist, not much, but I would ask him about next year. As a journalist, a slightly awkward question I would ask him is how many Ducati he is going to finish in front of in the Valencia test (he laughs). That would be the question I wouldn't want to be asked in his position? Q: What do you think Marc is going to do next year with the Ducati? David: Let's see, he has to adapt, but I think he will do well and he will be able to be fighting for the title. Then the position depends on the mistakes he makes, but he can be there. Q: Do you see yourself racing with him in MotoGP one day? Marc is 30 and you are 17... David: That would be a top dream, to get to MotoGP and for him to still be there. It would be like doing it with Valentino. I would love to race against Márquez in MotoGP. Q: Would your relationship be happy forever or would it end badly like yours with Rossi? David: No, it wouldn't go wrong. On the track there are no friends, but without twisting the relationship. (source)

Mela Chércoles asking Marc the question mentioned in the interview above: Q: I asked three riders, one per category, a question for you, and the Moto3 rider is David Alonso. Marc: I like him, I like him. He is a very polite guy and he will come. Q: His question is: How many Ducati are you going to finish in front of in the Valencia test? Marc: (He laughs). And I have to answer or what? Q: Of course. Marc: Well, I don't know, I don't know. I'm not going to answer you, David, because one of the successes of next year, if I want the project to be successful, is not to want to run more than what has to be run at any given moment. This means that in the Valencia test, I have to feel things first and then do them. Even if I am asked by David, who I am very fond of, I am not going to create any expectations, because for next year I have to work on that, on avoiding people's expectations. (source)

Marc looks on after congratulating David in Thailand, 2023.

David from an interview from January 4, 2024: Alonso recalled the moment when the Cervera native congratulated him after the race. "We know each other, when we see each other we talk. Marc is also my reference: I grew up watching his races, in the golden age of Valentino Rossi I was too small." (source)

David in an interview from February 21, 2024: Q: We have seen riders like Marc Márquez or Pedro Acosta with a lot of eyes on them when they were very young too. Do you look at their careers to learn from them or do you prefer not to compare? David: Everyone has their own rhythm and their own path, but I do like to look at riders who have been successful like the two of them. Everything happens for a reason and it's because you do things right. Try to copy those things and learn from them. Q:Have you been able to talk to Márquez for any advice? Related to what we were saying about expectations. David: Whenever I have the opportunity I always ask him. Now in winter everyone has their own problems. But during the races if I see him I ask him about how to manage all the pressure. He has lived through it, so I always try to ask him. Q: Can you tell us some of the advice he has given you? David: It depends a lot on the moment. When I won my first race he congratulated me but he told me that you have to keep going, keep pushing, that it's not over... little things that keep you on your toes. (source)

Marc chooses David as the Moto3 champion during the Qatar pre-race press conference prediction game. Q: Can you explain your choices Marc: "Alonso, I like him, I believe in him and yeah. He also was super fast last year."

David in an interview from June 15, 2024: Q: Who would you like to be like when you reach the premier class? David: My idol has been Marc Márquez, since when I was little I always saw him and he was my reference, but the truth is that I pay attention to everyone a little and I try to get the best out of each one. Q: What is your opinion of the signing of Marc Márquez for Ducati and Jorge Martín for Aprilia? David: Surprising, unexpected and very interesting for 2025. There will be a lot of games and also with the movements that are taking place, I think there will be a game of brands with a pretty cool rivalry, we are going to have fun. (source)

Most recently Marc and David trained together in Aragón with Alex, Fermín Aldeguer, Diogo Moreira and Albert Arenas.

A couple more quotes under the cut !

David Alonso in an interview with Germán Garcia from January 2, 2024. Since he was a child he dreamed of being like Marc Márquez, whom he now sees in the MotoGP paddock, stops and talks to him, explaining his doubts and listening with open eyes to the advice that, from time to time, the eight-time world champion gives him, who has seen "something special" in him. [...] David lifts his head and looks up at the sky, as if trying to remember. "The first race I saw on television I don't have it very present, but I do remember some riders from those first images that come to my mind. Valentino Rossi is a bit behind me, the ones I remember most are Casey Stoner, Dani Pedrosa, and then Marc Márquez, of course. But the World Championships won by Valentino, for example, I don't remember having seen them", not in vain in the last one of the Italian, in 2009, when David was only 3 years old. After last year's Thailand race, Marc Márquez congratulated David in the middle of pitlane, and highlighted the successes of the kids, to whom he made a recommendation: "Young riders should be careful with social networks, you can lose a lot of time on that." "I share Marc's comment," said Alonso. "I'm not much for mobile phones and networks, you have to be careful with that topic and channel it well because it can distract you. I like things more face to face, I always try to limit as much as possible the time I spend on the networks, and whenever I can I put the phone aside and try to forget about it," explains Alonso, who sees himself as a very familiar person. "I'm a guy who opens up more at home, I'm fun, but I also really like to be calm, to do low-pulse activities, taking things calmly to balance out how fast everything happens in racing," he stresses. A calmness that, however, when he gets to the track absolutely transforms. "In terms of riding style I'm a bit like Márquez, braking hard, a bit the opposite of Jorge Lorenzo, who was more refined. In character I'm also a bit like Márquez (laughs)" (source)

...aaaand that's the journey so far. Thank you so much for reading, I plan to add onto this post whenever they interact in the future or if I find more stuff while digging!

and a special thank you to my beloved elle @lestelledreams who made me aware of david and has been instrumental in my growing sooo fond of him 💗

[cupid-grl]

casual pt.2

part 1 <

mdni

the past three weeks were the same. work, get off late, shower, get picked up by a very horny simon, either fuck in his home or in his car, and get dropped back off. it was a very simple routine you'd grown used to. neither of you brought up the conversation (if you could even call it that) from a few weeks prior. the following day he seemed normal, so normal it pissed you off more than anything. why wasn't he conflicted? why didn't he spend nights up late, crying into the pillow that smelled so much like cigarettes and pinewood, wondering what to do to be loved by the person he exposed himself the most to?

you'd never felt so used before. so worthless, with only one sole purpose. where the only time you felt close to him was when he was beneath you and his arms were wrapped around your body, where the only time you felt full of his love was when he stuffed your sore cunt with his aching cock. where the only time you could cry about him was when he was reaching your sweet spot so good, you almost completely forgot why you were even in his arms in the first place.

he'd feel warm tears land on his exposed, sweaty chest. and he wouldn't even mind it, assuming you were just feeling so good because of him. or maybe he did know, but he was too pussydrunk to stop and just hold you. why couldn't he just hold you?

simon was half asleep, laying on his bed stomach first and his hand dangling over the queen sized mattress. dark grey covers sprawled out messily across his lower half, a mix of sweat and your juices drying onto the thin material.

his eyes watched as you stood up, searching for the clothes he had thrown off you. you could feel his icy blue eyes piercing through your body, and you felt so naked in this moment. aside from the fact that you were literally nude, you felt so exposed. so alone, vulnerable. it was a nasty feeling you couldn’t get rid of, as you struggled to put your stretched out underwear on, watching as the lace on it that was once neat and sewn on, now ripped with a few strings of yarn hanging off the sides. simon never cared about being delicate with you, he couldn’t even spare your clothes.

your bra was next, followed by your similarly stretched out shirt and jeans. words weren’t exchanged between either of you, there was nothing to say.

this was how it was. after you had both reached your climax (you haven’t, not since that one stupid night), he wouldn’t say anything to you. whether you were changing into your clothes to leave, or he was dropping you off at home. he said nothing, a man of no words. and you didn’t once complain.

you walked up to the small mirror placed above his dresser, fixing your smeared lipstick and trying to detangle the knots in your hair, in a desperate attempt to look clean. the aftermath of your nights together always left you looking so fucked out, and it only made the pit in your stomach grow.

“you got a li’ stain back there.” simon mumbled, his face against the cold covers of his bed. you turned around to face him, he wasn’t even looking at you.

your hand reached to your calves, to where a few droplets of his cum remained. you hadn’t even felt it, it was almost fully dried down now. you weren’t sure why, but the feeling of the cum drying down and tightening your skin made you more upset than before. maybe it was the lack of aftercare, it was probably that. you can remember the only night he ever cared enough to take care of you after sex.

“did so good f’ me, love. i got you now, get some sleep.” simon whispered, his legs tangled with yours as he held you so close to the warmth of his chest. his warm covers wrapped around your naked bodies, his big hands hugging your body so close to him like he was afraid you’d go away if he didn’t. you were clean, well fed, and you didn’t even move a muscle.

you’d sworn you’d never felt so much love before. so much intimacy, you could cry. and you did. just a bit, before simon wiped away your tears, consoling you before you could start full on sobbing.

“you’re okay, love. so precious.” he chuckled, his face buried in the crook of your neck while soft kisses trailed down the curve of your neck and down your arm, his hands lifting it up as his mouth traveled all the way down to your fingertips.

and that night was the first and last night you meant something to him. it was good you didn’t get used to it, but it didn’t stop you from expecting that one day, he’d offer to clean up his cum from your face, or the curve of your back. it didn’t stop you from expecting a soft kiss on your forehead after he filled you so deep with false promises, with praises telling you how good you did and how much you mean to him.

"thanks." your voice was hoarse, you tried so hard putting on this nonchalant act that seemed to get you nowhere. you mirrored him, trying so hard to give the english man a taste of his own medicine. though he swallowed without a budge, disregarding the bitter taste on his mouth. he didn't care. not a care at-fucking-all.

there were no further words exchanged between either one of them, simon remained on his bed while you grabbed the remainder of your belongings and headed out the door, body limping from the harsh fuck you endured. he was so good at making you feel like shit, physically and emotionally.

and maybe it was the change of temperature in the air, or his cum still leaking from your sore pussy, or maybe it was the way you could still feel his mouthwash on your lips. you found yourself marching back to his door, knuckles banging against it a bit harsher than you intended to.

you could hear a groan and the heavy sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor beneath him, as he swung the door open, the gust of air lightly hitting your warm face.

"forget somethin' ?" simon looked down at you, with that same stupid unreadable expression on his face. he remained shirtless, with his black boxers having been put on in a hurry as the lining of it was a bit crooked from his hips. his neck bruised up from your earlier assault, hair still all over the place from the result of your own hands. your lipstick still smeared on his own thin lips.

"yea- no. no, i didn't." you pushed past him, catching him by surprise as he stepped aside and shut the door behind him. your breaths became more unstable, your heart beating in your ears as you could hear a million tiny voices telling you to go.

run, you dumb bitch. there's no use in talking. run.

he sighed, already aware of what was to come as you sat on the edge of his bed with that all too familiar conflicted look on your face. your brows furrowed and your teeth nibbled on the inside of your cheek. simon didn't bother saying anything as he walked over to the corner of his room, mini fridge sat in the middle of the cold floor as he kneeled down, grabbing a water bottle. the sounds of his bare feet stomping around, and the creak of the armchair that remained against the wall across from you filled the silent space. simon spread his legs out just a bit, just enough to remind you of how it felt being in between them.

"i can't keep doing this."

"doin' what, love?"

"this, simon. you know what i'm talking about, you can't dance around the subject because i won't forget. i won't ever fucking forget."

"look, you're a sweet girl. you're fun an' all, but bloody 'ell you are so fuckin' annoyin' ." he laughed dryly, almost like he was mocking you. simon's patience seemed to run thin, as he stood up, walking over to you and towering your figure. in this moment, you'd never felt so small and defenseless before in your life. it felt like all eyes were on you, when it was just him and you.

"well i am really sorry, si. i'm sorry i want to be something other than a quick fuck, i'm sorry i don't wanna stick around waiting for the day you tell me i'm not just useful for only that." angry tears pooled in your eyes, and you didn't bother wiping them as they fell.

simon looked at you in a way where you swore he almost felt pity for you, and you'd rather not feel anything from him at all if it was just out of pity. he remained silent, looking at you with blank eyes. nothing was left in those ocean blue eyes.

"and i know you made it clear that we want different things, and i thought i'd be okay with that. and i know it's my fault for sticking around despite the fact that i'm just hurting myself in the end, but you're just at fault if not more. why couldn't you do the sensible thing and stop seeing me? stop coming back to me and treating me so good for a minute then leaving me to clean myself up and leave without a fucking goodbye?"

"a man has his needs, a'ight? i'm not gonna give up an opportunity to get a quick fuck. there, is that wha' you wan'ed to hear?" his accent ran thick through his words, which were coated in venom. each word was so enunciated, so harsh. it hit you like a ton of bricks, though your gaze didn't wander off and you didn't dare walk away.

"i really don't know what else i gotta tell you, love. this," he pointed at himself, then you. "isn't happening. not today, not tomorrow, not next fuckin' week and surely not the week after. you are free to stop talkin' to me because 'm tellin' you for the last time, i don't want you. i don't need you."

you really wished he lied. just this once.

salty tears streamed down your face and you couldn't do anything but stand there as he simply watched you. your sobs echoed in the room, and simon finally sighed, wrapping his arms around you.

"no use in cryin', it won't change my mind. 'm sorry, love, 'm jus' not the man for you. please understand that." he whispered against your forehead, planting a light kiss on the warm flesh. you wondered why it took you to be a sobbing mess in his arms for him to have a heart, but you didn't question it. you knew now, it was better not to question anything.

you didn't move away as he caressed the sides of your shaking shoulders, the flat of his fingertips rubbing circles on the warmth of your skin.

"i hate you for what you're doing to me." you'd cry, while simon gently kissed your hair.

"i know." he'd reply.

and that was the last time you ever spoke to simon. he didn't text you after, not to check up on you, to make sure you got home, not even to apologize. but what was there for him to be sorry for? he didn't lead you on, this was all your doing. it was your fault for staying and expecting for him to come around, to grow to love you.

you didn't text him, either. not to go off on him, to tell him how much he meant to you and to beg him to atleast try and feel the same. you didn't text him when you'd see him out in the city, hanging out with the group of people you met him through by the pier. you didn't text him when he started hanging out with a new girl, who seemed to bring out simon's genuine smile more than you ever did. you didn't text him to ask why he always had his arm around her when you saw them, you thought he hated pda, he told you so himself. and you didn't text him when you found her social media, spending hours stalking her feed to learn that she'd been posting him from the moment you two stopped seeing eachother. and you surely didn't text him when she announced their engagement via a lengthy paragraph online, only a few months after the two of you cut all contact.

did i cry while writing this perhaps is this based off my current situation perhaps. this was a little shorter than i anticipated but i hope you all enjoy part two of this evil evil story.

@going-through-shit i hope u enjoy!!

[hellobabydoll333]

The Law of Assumption - dismantling your limiting beliefs (Simplified & Finalized)

I did something like this already, but these are basically my updated beliefs- everything I’ve learned on this blog from others and most importantly, myself. Idk if there’s anything more I can say after this, but… if this don’t resonate with you, as I’ve said in my intro post welp… find something that does cuz hunny this ain’t for you (and no your ask won’t be answered if you decide to speak on it) Anyways, a perfect beginner & non-beginner post that covers just about all you need to know imo. Feel free to ask questions my luvs <3

Your assumptions right now are everything. Be present. What you assumed yesterday don’t matter if it’s not what you’re assuming right now in this moment. ‘Your subconscious doesn’t have eyes, it’s shows what you tell it’, is what a lot of bloggers like to say and that such a great reminder for me to choose what I want rather than the undesirable.

It’s true that repetition creates your dominant thoughts and assumptions (exactly why you can’t be one foot in, one out) but it feels better when you don’t make it a chore and actually have fun with it.

Give the 3D none of your acceptance- you never have to accept it. Yes it’s something you don’t control directly, so you should only focus on things you can control such as the 4D, interact with it, pay attention to it, have fun with it

The 4D/imagination/inner reality isn’t some fake world, it’s very real- it’s where creation happens. I CANNOT STRESSSSSS the importance of doing what you want in the 4D and accepting it as your reality above all. SOOOO IMPORTANT YALL.

It comes down to discipline because you can choose to be the prettiest being in the world right now but even if you don’t continuously choose that over the undesired state, you get what you persist in. Think of it like a game of this or that

You have to actually want better for yourself to do better for yourself- and this is why I push mental health and self love so hard in my posts. It makes no sense that you are struggling so much to do something so easy, you do some thinking and then realize that you don’t actually believe you’re worth your desires and then you do nothing about it.. This focus on yourself includes being real with you. No one is gonna do it for you. Like have convos with yourself, listen to yourself and how you feel about things, people and YOU. Mainly you. This is how you discover your beliefs. Pay attention to you.

This isn’t something that’s too commonly said because usually it’s just ‘ignore your 3D’ whatever, whatever. But sometimes the 3D be jumping out at you in way you SHOULD NOT ignore. Some circumstances be like that. Some people just would never understand that unless it’s them in the situation. And that’s why I said in one of my recent posts, do what you need to do in the 3D. Idc what anyone else says, you can deal with what needs to be done in your 3D while not giving it any power.

Working on your Self concept isn’t necessary for some people but I am an advocate for it. I’m someone who had such a shitty self concept and I didn’t even know I felt this way about myself until I came across loa and it took me forever to fix because I still couldn’t admit to myself that it was a problem, but after spending my time choosing to fix it- think & assume better of myself, love myself- guess who’s flourishing now. “You can still manifest with a shitty self concept” but why would you want to feel that way about yourself… and if you have a good self concept already, great, 10/10 love that for you sweetie!!

When working on your self concept/yourself in general, what you consume matters & give your attention to. It’s a form of repetition. If you constantly consume negativity, it stays in your life. For example, my social media consumption mainly contains pr1sm’s affirmation tape, mai Pham, miss tada & Fatima Bah- people who attract endless opportunities, Hamimommy - someone who’s life is similar to a life I’ll live in the future, my Pinterest boards which reflect my life perfectly. The peace I’ve felt since I’ve changed what I consumed feels so good and I’ve already seen it start to show itself in my life through others, realizations within myself and opportunities.

You make rules. You could take this with a grain of salt. I don’t give one fuck what someone else says if it doesn’t resonate with me honestly and neither should you. Everyone’s journey is different and at the end of the day, it’s all about you. Your life is about you, thus your world revolves around you. Do what makes you happy

Reading this isn’t gonna change anything, you have to make the change yourself. Bloggers can’t give you want you, you have to give it to yourself

And you would never think it’s that straightforward. I don’t post my successes but I do reblog others that I see to keep my followers motivated even though motivation means nothing if you don’t have disciple. And yes I slip up sometimes but I always remind myself of these things and then I’m back on track hunny. I think this will be my last informative post for a long time if not forever because I really don’t think there’s anything more I can say, but I may post lil epiphanies like connections I make about self love or even loa but it’ll be essentially the same things but more detailed how.

This feels like the end of an era for me. Because now I can be completely focused on the 4D now that I’m aware of what works for me.

And to close, I really love this post of mine and this would have to be my all time fav and I definitely will be coming back to read to remind myself whenever I make that slip. YALL LIKE MY SUMMER THEME IN THIS POST?

xoxo, hellobabydoll333

[writingduhh]

Do you think you could write some sickly sweet pillow talk with Ted? Laying on his/him on your chest, playing with hair, fingers (HIS RINGS), top of head kisses, just tooth rotting snuggling...maybe you're talking about your future plans or like nonsense but just being cozy in bed with him

Uhm… ABSOLUTELY! I present to you the most tooth rotting nauseatingly sweet fic I have ever written :3

Ted Nivison || Sweet

The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted a warm, intimate atmosphere in Ted's room. He lay comfortably on his back, while you nestled against him, head resting on his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breaths were soothing, grounding me in this moment of peace and quietude.

You idly played with his hair, running my fingers through the soft strands, occasionally twirling a lock around my fingertip. Ted's hand rested on my back, gently tracing circles that sent tingles across my skin. His fingers, adorned with rings that glinted faintly in the dim light, grazed lightly along your spine, eliciting a contented sigh from me.

"You know," you murmured softly, breaking the comfortable silence, "I was thinking about our future earlier."

Ted hummed in response, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. "Oh yeah? What were you thinking?"

You tilted my head up to look at him, catching his warm gaze in the soft glow. "Just imagining where we'll be in a few years. Maybe a cozy little apartment, with plants everywhere and maybe a pet or two."

"A pet, huh?" Ted mused, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Like a dog or cat?"

You chuckled softly. "Maybe both. Can you imagine a cat and a playful little puppy running around together?"

Ted's eyes lit up with amusement. "A cat trying to boss around a puppy would be hilarious."

"Yeah," You agreed, nestling back against him. "And we could take them on walks together, explore new places."

Ted's hand moved from your back to gently stroke your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I'd like that," he said softly. "Exploring the world with you sounds like a dream."

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth in my chest. "It does, doesn't it? I can't wait to see where life takes us."

"Me neither," Ted replied, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. "As long as we're together, I know it'll be an adventure."

You reached up, placing a gentle kiss on his chin. "I love you."

His fingers traced soothing patterns on your back. "i love you too, Y/N."

You lay there in the quiet intimacy of the moment, wrapped up in each other's warmth and affection. Time seemed to slow down as we shared dreams and whispered promises, hearts beating in sync.

After a peaceful pause, Ted spoke again, his voice gentle and thoughtful.

"You know, I never imagined I'd find someone like you. Someone who understands me so completely, who makes every day brighter."

You looked up at him, touched by his words. "And I never thought I'd find someone as kind-hearted and genuine as you. You make me feel so loved."

He smiled, his eyes softening with affection. "I'm glad. Because loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

You chuckled softly. "Even easier than beating me at Mario Kart?"

Ted laughed, a warm, melodic sound that filled the room. "Okay, maybe not that easy," he teased, playfully tousling my hair.

You mock-gasped, feigning offense. "Hey now, watch the hair! It's delicate."

He grinned, pulling you closer until our noses were almost touching. "You're delicate," he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

You reached up, tracing the contours of his face with my fingertips. "You're not so bad yourself, Nivison," You teased, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

You lingered in the kiss for a moment, savoring the closeness and the sweetness of being together. When we pulled back, Ted rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.

"Thank you for being here," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Always, no where else I’d rather be." You replied, heart overflowing with love for this man who held your heart so tenderly.

[thursdayinspace]

So many things that grab you by the heart to squeeze it like a lemon into the emotional devastation cocktail that is the cancer arc, but one that never fails to squeeze extra hard is

Mulder: I need to know who did this to Scully!

Kritschgau: What you can have, what you may find, is so much more than that.

Mulder: What?

Kritschgau: What you want most desperately of all.

Mulder: The cure for Scully's cancer?

What he wants most desperately of all. Is. The cure for Scully's cancer.

This is the man who has built his entire life and his entire career around trying to find his sister. Uncover the truth behind her abduction. It's been the one thing that's been driving him, defining him, for his entire life. Telling Scully about it in the pilot, he says "Nothing else matters to me."

And here he is, naming the cure for Scully as the one thing in the world he wants above all else. One thing matters more to him than the truth he's been searching for this whole time. And that's the woman he loves. She has become the most important thing in his life. He needs her. More than anything. And even more than that, he wants her to get another chance at life.

We saw him self-destruct during her abduction. We see him doing everything in his power to find a cure for her now. When she's in danger, anything else fades into the background. He loves her so much that even the life-long quest he's been on pales in comparison.

I need to go sit in the dark and stare at the wall about this for a moment

[lesbianbootheng]

quotes that remind me of dungeon meshi characters (a thread—or tumblr equivalent)

senshi

“for every life i can’t save during my shift, one more drop of blood becomes a part of me.”

if you saw the episode regarding senshi’s backstory… you’ll understand why this quote fits. at a young age, he watched his entire party die from starvation. consequently, he studies cooking (with monsters) with a crazy intensity to starve off hunger. to never have more drops of blood join him again—especially with his suspicion that he ate his own party members. so in the case of senshi, others blood is genuinely (or believed to be) Apart Of Him

(tldr senshi’s survivors guilt goes CRAZY)

chilchuck

“his mouth may be full of acid, but gentleness oozes from his actions like chocolate syrup dripping down whipped cream.”

we all know that despite chilchuck’s professionalism (emotional distance) he isn’t as hardened off as he wants us to believe but i feel the episode that encapsulates that is when that one ogre confronts him like. “you’re worried your friends will die aren’t you” while he’s sobbing his eyes out. THAT sticks out to me.

if you ignore that episode, there’s still tons of moments from the season alone that showcases how much he cares. chilchuck trying to wake up marcille from her nightmares. deciding between following senshi or laois to protect them from other people’s wraths. facing the red dragon HEAD ON despite him Not Being A Fighter. he cares about people DAMMIT but he’s the last person to let others know, covering any harsh actions with his words—be it teasing marcille, snarking at laois, or more. yet his actions say more than what he could & that is enough

itzusumi

maybe this is what being a mortal is about. kindnesses that aren’t deserved

this resonates as itzusumi because of her inherent selfishness. even though she’s only appeared at the latter half, throughout the series, she’s been shown to prioritize herself above all. and that isn’t to say she isn’t deserving of kindness as one of her rights as a Basic Human Being but. people tend to follow the golden rule from my experience—ESPECIALLY when the other party has been rude (which itzusumi has been)

so to have laois’ party treat her with kindness (with chilchuck literally APOLOGIZING for his comments) is really heartwarming. most people would have given up or left her by now. yet his crew treats her with kindness even if she hasn’t been the best. that’s why i feel the kindness is undeserved

as for what a mortal is… that’s a question all the characters are finding out, but itzusumi (& falin) are finding out above all. as beastmen, they aren’t seen (or even seen THEMSELVES) as human. yet they are both being treated with kindness despite their actions. and i think that sticks out to me above all

marcille

“If it’s heaven’s will for us to part, I will rip heaven into pieces with my own two hands to be with you.”

falin’s transformation to a literal chimera is kickstarted all because marcille refused to let the dead rest. although the dungeon can easily allow for the revival of humans… bringing back people when they’re too far gone, when they’re already devoured.. it crosses the life between life and death, the natural order of existence. yet marcille crosses that line, of what’s considered natural or “fate” (aka what is determined by the higher order—heaven) of them parting and ripped it apart

she brought her best friend back to life.

because much like senshi, marcille is someone characterized by her losses & what she will continue to lose due to her being a long-lived species. she knows this and has been continued haunted by her past losses: her bird, her father, and i have no doubt there’s more. it’s why she studied forbidden magic: to no longer lose the people she loves. and she doesn’t care what boundaries or rules she breaks because she loves them That Much (sounds like another magic aligned user eh?)

falin

how do you separate a tiger’s beauty from its ferocity? or a cheetah’s elegance from the speed of its attack? achilles was like that—the beauty and the terror were two sides of a single coin

we all know this is referring to falin in her chimera form because while i do love her prechimera the series mainly focuses on her in that form than without. although she is dangerous, she is powerful. and in the same way, so much as she’s powerful, she’s dangerous. her existence is beautiful but it’s an example of hostility. of the potential of forbidden magic as well as the drawbacks. she’s truly two sides of the same coins

laois

“i think we sometimes make the mistake of thinking monsters are abhorrent aberrations, lurking in the darkest recesses, when the truth is far more distributing. the most monstrous of men are those who sit in plain sight, daring you to challenge them.”

this goes into manga spoilers so. if you’re not okay with that… skip this section

i wholeheartedly believe this quote fits laois due to his own negative experiences with humans. for YEARS the villagers of his home casted out falin (and him, to some degree? could be wrong) treating her poorly for who her ghost abilities. similarly, his parents struggled to stand up for them, leading lapis to have a strained relationship current day. and when he left to join the army, he struggled to fit in.

as a result, laois would dream of being a monster (and also developing a monster interest in general) for their power—especially when they could crush all the people that bullied them. his love for monsters represent laois disconnect to humans—especially with the way they treated the ones he loves. because despite the monsters being seen as the scary ones, he experiences more anxiety around humans than he ever does with beasts.

[jazzii-writes]

flower crowns - osamu dazai

paring: dazai x fem!reader

cw: established relationship, reader wears a dress, dazai calls reader "bella" as in bella-donna, really just pure fluff

a/n: first fic... i hope whoever reads this likes it, please let me know if i made any mistakes! enjoy :) also i wrote this some time ago, for one of my mutual's writing event, but they deactivated their account so i'm posting this anyways. happy birthday to the silly!!

word count: 849

-‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿🌼‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿-

Your breath hitches for a moment, using your nails to make a thin slit in the stem. Carefully, you slide another stem through the slit one, and repeat for a few more. There you have it, fully made of white flowers. Now, you just have to wait for your dearest to come to arrive so that the real fun can start.

For some context, you’ve noticed your lover has been really stressed lately, and wanted to do something nice for him. But you know he’d never tell you, he would just go on about his day until he can think alone at night. Thus, you left early in the morning and left a note on your bedside table, reading;

“Good morning, my love. Want to know where I am? Check my location. Also, remember to wear something light coloured, if you want to match! :)”

Now, you’re in the middle of a field of daisies and dandelions, wearing a light yellow frilly-sleeved dress that falls down to just above your ankles. Much like your surroundings, it has little white flowers peppered all over the skirt of it. The bodice of the dress fits your waist, and has a thin white belt with a white flower on it, to match. It shouldn’t be too long until he finds you, knowing he would get curious quickly.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, as you wonder what has him so stressed. Not a moment goes by, even if you’re not actively thinking, that you can’t wait to see him. And as if the universe had heard you, a car pulls up to the far side of the flower field, on the road of the highway. Well, not really a highway, more like a road that’s not in the city and it’s rarely crowded.

And that car is Dazai’s. He locks the car, then jumps over the flimsy fence. 

“Bellaaaa, how could you leave meeeee~” he whines, running closer to you as you walk towards him.

The moment he gets close enough, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. You can’t muffle your giggles as he kisses all over your face and neck, smiling against your neck when he stops.

“So, what is all this?” he asks, pulling his lips away from your neck, but keeping his arms around your waist.

“Well, you could call it a date,” you trail off when you notice his shirt. A soft smile forms on your lips as you realise his shirt matched the exact colour of your dress. The shirt is plain, with a slightly darker coloured collar and end of the short sleeves. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the slightly mocking voice of your lover.

“Love, you’re staring.” he teases, getting an eye roll from you.

“Oh, sorry, I was just confused as to how you knew what shirt to wear. Y’know, the one we bought that specifically matched this dress.” 

A soft smile forms on his lips as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. He always knew how to divert the conversation, as he does in this one.

“Lets just say I checked your closet and the dress you’re wearing now was missing so I guessed you were wearing it and wore this one, in hopes to match.” he chuckles, watching your expression change to a slightly shocked one. He really did go out of his way to make sure you two match, just like you asked. Your shock doesn’t last for long, it becomes a giggle.

“Hm? What’s so funny, bella-donna?” he asks, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he uses his other hand to fix your hair. He watches as you keep giggling, the way your eyes close and a faint pink hue dusts your cheeks. One word he would use to describe you was most definitely beautiful. For the other, a word anyone else could use to describe him could be smitten, or even mesmerised. 

“Eh, nothing. Enough of that, I have something to show you!” you pull away from his hug, taking his hand as you lead him to where you were making little flower creations. He slightly tilts his head, watching you lean down to grab something, then stand back up. You gesture for him to lean down a bit, he does as you instruct. You carefully place the flowers on his head, then let him stand back up.

“What is it?” he asks, adjusting it on the crown of his head. You smile in response, taking another one and placing it on your own head.

“A flower crown! I made a few earlier, so we can match!” 

If you ask him, your eyes were almost sparkling. In such admiration, no words are exchanged, just a gesture. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. It catches you by surprise, but who would resist a kiss from him? Your star-eyed boyfriend. And if you look closely, his eyes only glimmer when you’re around. You kiss him back, a smile unable to keep itself off your lips.

-‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿🌼‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿-

taglist: @jomamaofficial , @xansposts

-‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿🌼‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿-

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© jazzi-writes 2024

[tranzjen]

🩷🩵🤍 5 Days Until my Surgery 🤍🩵🩷

(Picture taken September 1, 2022)

I'm very very excited for my surgery (it's my second gender affirming surgery but this one is more significant to me since it'll be top and bottom surgery) and I'm obviously counting the days until it and I thought some people might be interested in my trans journey 🏳️‍⚧️ So see part 6 below the cut.

Part 1 here

Me and my partner got back together and got a place together and we still live in this apartment together 🥰 I also worked at worked at a local amusement park over the summer that had some fun but mostly was horrible due to angry customers that kept misgendering me and kids making fun of me 🙃 But also I'll say I had one of my most euphoric moment when this little girl pointed to her winged eyeliner and said "you're just like me!" Bc I also had winged eyeliner at the time 🥰

(Picture taken June 6th, 2022)

Also, if the last Era was the peak of my egirl era on twitter than this was the fall of my egirl era 📉

I remember reaching 10k followers and thinking "ok I have enough of a following to try to make money off this." It's what a lot of egirls on there did and as I stated above, I hated my job. I thought briefly about streaming and YouTube but I don't really have the personality for streaming and was too self-conscious of my voice to do YouTube. And there were a lot of sex workers on twitter that I knew, followed, and admired. And there was quite the market for trans sexual content. Also I wanted to basically be paid to look pretty all day 🤷‍♀️ So, I made a OnlyFans account and started promoting it.

(Picture taken May 9th, 2022)

And I quickly got shadow banned for it 😂 And frankly, I wasn't really meant for sex work. I'm not really a sexual person. I do enjoy sexual acts but doing them for money killed my drive for it. I made a few hundred dollars but I didn't make enough content for it to keep it up.

Also, the shadow banned revealed how unhealthy my relationship with Twitter was. My self worth would be highly dependent on how well my posts did that day (I was still posting pictures daily). And I was hypercritical of my picture quality and my physical features. And developed a bad habit of comparing myself to girls I considered prettier than me. And with the constant misgendering from work, I was at a big low 🥲

(Picture taken September 17th, 2022)

I remember this was when there was first talk about Elon buying Twitter and I was looking for an alternative and well... ended up here.

(Picture taken June 2nd, 2022)

I remember the idea between this pic was clothes and accessories that weren't explicitly queer but gave queer vibes.

Also talking about queerness, I also participated in a Drag Show! I played a mushroom fairy!

(Picture taken August 13th, 2022)

It was organized by this local queer nonprofit that did a lot in the community and was already a big part of my life but would become a bigger part of my life.

Also this was when I was done with the curly girl method. And I like how my hair looks like this and it's easier 🤷‍♀️

(Picture taken September 4th, 2022)

Also love how often I get used out of this mushroom beret 😁🍄😁 (which is why I have 2 pics with it on this post lol)

Also an update on my love life at this time. I at one point had 4 partners very briefly and was part of a polycule over over 22 people. I remember one of my metamours made a chart showing all the relationships and it was complicated 😅 Also it was mostly online. Like 2 of my partners were long distance relationships.

(Picture taken Oct 2nd, 2022)

Around my 23rd birthday, I decided to do what was best for my mental health and quit twitter. But I had two last pictures because I got them from some followers who bought me things from my Amazon wishlist I made for my birthday.

(Picture taken October 29, 2022)

This one would be useful for the next era. And you can see a small part of my large collection of plushies (which I have a project in mind for 👀)

(Picture taken on November 8th, 2022)

And this was the last picture I posted on Twitter before quitting at 36k followers. I had already stopped posting on it for awhile so you can imagine my surprise when I got a big pink teddy bear 😱 And for all the work I put into that account, I consider this a pretty good prize 🧸💕

I consider Tumblr my last attempt with having a healthy relationship with social media. If this account goes away, I'll probably be done with Social Media 🤷‍♀️ I think I'm getting better at breaking those bad habits I developed on Twitter while still trying to enjoy the art of dressing up and taking selfies. But, I don't know if I'll ever have the drive for it like I did during my twitter days.

With my summer job ending and twitter as a way to make a living out of the window you may be concerned with how I recovered but I got really lucky and I'll go into detail on that tomorrow 😁

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Random dialogue scene that popped in my head.

"We really shouldn't do this."

"Perhaps."

"No really. Last time didn't work out so well for me."

Brain keeps flipping from it being flirty to being funny like two people are lactose intolerant but sharing a milkshake or competing to see who can eat the most ice cream.

How does your brain read it? Do you have any ships you think it would work for?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Okay, so I went an entirely different direction with this. 🤣 And thought maybe some semi-angsty Chilshi with a happy ending?

Senshi paused as he looked over at his smaller companion. Chilchuck was shifting on his feet, refusing to make eye contact. Senshi huffed pulling Chilchuck closer so he could plant a kiss on the half-foot's forehead.

"You were the one who asked. I would never push you to do something you didn't want to do."

It did little to appease the other man as he pushed himself away.

"I know I did! Fine! Alright, we'll get married."

Senshi watched Chilchuck stomp off to the castle, shaking his head. He didn't quite know what Chilchuck was trying to prove here, but he would go along with him if it was what he wanted.

They were immediately shown to the throne room where Laios sat, looking quite regal, if it weren't for the way he hung his head as Kabru and Marcille stood nearby, stacks of papers in their hands. However, upon seeing his friends, Laios jumped out of his seat racing towards them.

"Chilchuck! Senshi! I'm so glad to see you."

"We want to get married, and you need to officiate it!" Chilchuck demanded.

Laios blinked in surprise as Marcille's mouth dropped.

"I can do that?" He asked.

"What? Really?" Marcille gasped at the same time.

Chilchuck seemed even more aggravated by their questions as he formed fists at his side.

"You're the king!" Chilchuck accused. "Of course, you can officiate a marriage. So go on! Do it!"

"You guys are wanting to get married right now?" Marcille squealed.

"Possibly." Senshi answered softly.

Chilchuck spun around on him. "I said I would, didn't I?"

"But do you want to?" Senshi asked him.

Chilchuck stood there trembling before spinning around to Laios again.

"Are you going to marry us or not?"

Kabru decided to step in at this point, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Guys, King Laios is very busy at the moment. Maybe we can set a time that might work better for all of us..."

"I'll do it." Laios declared interrupting Kabru.

Everyone turned to the king, but he merely repeated himself. His face set with determination. Senshi couldn't help but sigh. He guessed they were doing this. Laios stood before his throne, Senshi and Chilchuck before him, facing each other, while Marcille and Kabru hovered uncertainly in the background. Laios began, repeating the words Kabru fed him. Something about being in the presence of true love before asking Chilchuck and Senshi to make their vows to each other.

Chilchuck went first, shifting from foot to foot, before delivering his lines in a monotone voice.

"Senshi, I vow to love you to the end of my days. I vow to be a good husband, in sickness and in health. I vow to always put your needs before my ambitions."

Senshi felt himself wilt, hearing the one he loved in such pain.

"Chilchuck..." He started before taking his hand with a gentle smile. "I don't need to marry you for you to be mine."

Chilchuck suddenly looked up, a sharp look in his eyes.

"I know you worry about what you can offer me. How short our time together will be, but whether we're married or not, physically together or not, everyone will know how much I loved you. I will never take another after you, and I will make the years we are together the happiest you have ever known. With plenty of good food and a warm home for you to come back to every night. But above all, I will remind you every minute of our lives that yours is a worthy one."

Senshi heard a sniff behind him from Marcille, and Kabru urging Laios into the next part.

"By the power invested in me as King of..."

"Wait!" Chilchuck interrupted. "I would like to go again. Please."

Laios looked over at Kabru who merely shrugged.

"Yeah, okay, go ahead Chilchuck."

"I am happy with you." Chilchuck admitted. "So happy it scares me. I know I come with a lot of baggage, but you've never made me feel lesser for it. I may not be the best at showing it, I'll try to do better, but I really do want to marry you. I want to be able to look back on a life with no regrets, and I think I would regret not taking this chance more than anything. I want to be able to look back on the memories of my life fondly, but mostly with you. And when such a time comes that I have to leave this world, I want to leave you with enough memories to comfort you on the loneliest of nights."

Marcille was full on sobbing at this point, but Senshi hardly paid her any mind. There was the man who asked him, cuddled in his arms before the fire, to marry him. There was the man Senshi wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Senshi gave Chilchuck's hand a squeezed which made him give him a shy little grin. His eyes shining in his sincerity.

"I pronounce you married. You may now kiss to seal the vows of your love."

Senshi began to lean in only to laugh when he found himself with an armful of Chilchuck. Chilchuck grabbed his cheeks between his hands and proceeded to kiss the life out of him. Regardless of the journey it took to get here, Senshi felt he could look back at it with no regrets as well.

[green-typewriterz]

can you write an art donaldson fic where the reader has been in love with him for the past ten years but it’s obviously unrequited love… until art divorces tashi.

ps: can it be a lil angsty? I love it

Obsessed with your ex

Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi x reader if your looking at the subtext

Ask: above

summary: you're in love with Art...but due to a rather obvious factor known as Tashi Duncan, it's severely unrequited.

Warnings: none?? I guess swearing

Author Notes: sorry this took so long love!!! I was in a major editing groove for a long while meaning my writing got unceremoniously sent to the backburner... but i'm back with this as a sort of consolation!! also i was listneing to teeth by lady gaga on loop while writing this which is why theres some very gay subtext between you and tashi...

word count: 1826

Tashi fucking Duncan. That’s how she was known in your subconscious - though you weren’t sure if it was a positive or negative thing. You wanted to be her, of course you did. She had everything you wanted. A natural skill for tennis, perfect looks and a close (confusing) relationship with both Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

Obviously, you were horrendously in love with Art and it hurt to an almost embarrassing degree when some more crass girls in your tennis class began to gossip about Tashi making out with him and Patrick. You weren’t sure where they could’ve got the information, so you told yourself it wasn’t true - a rumour. Regardless, it hurt. Maybe it hurt just as much as Art Donaldson having no clue you felt how you did.

You were reasonably close with Tashi, close enough to call yourself a friend but it was reasonably clear to most that you wanted what she had (and maybe you also wanted her as much as Zweig and Donaldson though that was a deeper emotion). It was interesting to watch how she’d interact with each boy as if they were pawns, something that was increasingly clear at that fateful match.

You could hear the crunch throughout the entire court, though the scream was what rattled you. Art leapt from his place in the stands, running as if she were going to die. You stood, racket still in hand, shifting awkwardly in the absence of play before making your way over to your friend to check on her.

Art knew you were trying to be helpful, his small, thin lipped smile showing this clearly, but Tashi didn’t want you there. So that was that. You let him take over and rocked back on your shins, eyes tracking his hands that gently held her head. A more desperate side of you seemed to hope that it had been you who had broken your leg so he would be holding you instead.

This accident, though sadding, seemed to be detrimental to the success of your career. It was as though you had escaped the shadow of Tashi fucking Duncan and could finally play your best. You slowly but surely took Tashi’s career, the trophies she should’ve won, the brand deals she should’ve posed for. You weren’t ever really sure how to feel - though, you had always wanted to be her.

___

TEN YEARS LATER

Ten years pass quickly yet with excruciating slowness and you found yourself at a peak in your career, winning match after match. This particular one was no different. You were playing against Mueller - a match you knew you’d easily win due to the girl's childish anger.

Your eyes scan the crowd, seeing who had bothered to watch a match with such an obvious ending and you were shocked to see an old face in the crowd. Tashi fucking Duncan. She was sitting comfortably in a lacoste shirt - one that was presumably Art’s - with a large pair of rather reflective sunglasses but her small smile said everything.

It was the nod she sent you that sent a shiver through you. She wanted you to win, told you to win all with just a nod. It was like she wrapped her arms around you and whispered it - you stood in place for a moment, pausing for longer than usual before your serve. The breath you let out was shaky but determined. She told you to win. And so of course you did.

You were the one to approach her after, thanking her for coming and other similar niceties. Eventually though, these ran out and you resorted to the questions you actually wanted to ask.

“How’s Art?”

“Tired.”

Oh. You had expected a longer response at the least. Then again, you hadn't expected her to be so honest - it wasn’t something she was known for. You stood in silence for a bit, still wiping the sweat of the game from your brow when you said, “why are you here?”

Tashi paused, smiling. She had wanted you to ask. “I wanted to see you beat that racist bitch.” The reply was blunt and, yet again, honest. You laughed gently and your eyes trailed to Mueller who was red faced and whining, eyes stroppily trained on the floor.

“Are you happy I did win?”

“No. You’re where I should be. But good for you.”

You paused and almost let her walk away but found your words before it would be a moment too late and followed after - if you were watching yourself do this you would’ve kicked yourself for how pathetic you looked. “Tashi, I idolised you. You had… still have everything I want.”

Tashi’s eyebrow raise spoke for her. She wanted to know what you meant, she was giving you a chance to explain yourself without mentioning her husband.

“I just mean I look up to you, as a player, as a coach.” you replied, attempting to save yourself from the embarrassment of the words you had spoken prior. Your thumb idly massaged circles into your palm as she tilted her head to the side, analysing you.

“Y/n, you’re a good player, with a good coach. But you’re too unemotional, too kind,” Tashi replied, voice even and accurate. She was right, you were far too nice on the pitch. You had never found that anger that other players had, never experienced that rage that made a game so entertaining. Tashi was bored.

“So?”

“So be a bitch. God knows most tennis players deserve it.”

You nod, muttering regards toward art.

---

“I watched Y/n play. She was good.” Tashi said idly, sitting on their clean white sofa, brushing through the blonde hair that rested against her shoulder.

Art looked up, eyes worn but curious all the same. “Was she you?” The question was one he had asked often, though he never meant any malice toward you with it. He asked this whenever Tashi watched a tennis player, something to praise her. This time though, her response had changed, her face lifted with a soft smile.

“She could be.”

---

NEW ROCHELLE

You were through to the English open, of course you were, but your coach still thought it a smart idea to get you to play the New Rochelle challenger as a warm up, to get you ready. Part of you felt like you were just there as an advert, as if you had been invited to play for the sake of selling tickets - you weren’t sure how much you minded this idea.

Something unexpected, however, was Art Donaldson and Tashi Donaldson sitting in the stands, watching you play against the poor tennis player who wasn’t handling her current loss well.

Tashi leans toward her husband. “She’s good,” she whispers. She’s testing him, seeing if he can spot what she had.

“She’s too kind.”

Your eyes linger on Art, trailing over his face. You were still horrendously attracted to him, in fact, you weren’t sure that feeling ever left. Tashi, ever vigilant, had realised this - of course she had. Her stare felt so much more grating without her sunglasses. She knew how to change your emotion, she needed you irritated, jealous so she could watch an entertaining match. Her hand gently resting on Art’s thigh seemed to do this.

You win with much more ferocity than you had been known for, something that erupts the crowd, cheers ringing through you. It felt more rewarding somehow, to win this way. You hadn’t been kind. It felt fun.

Tashi’s smile was venomous. She was right about you. Art followed you back to the changing rooms, wanting to congratulate you but instead found you pacing. You looked up to face him, face hot in embarrassment.

“You won.”

“Fuck the win. I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

His brows furrowed as he stepped closer, holding your hand in his to get you to stop pacing. You pulled away but came to a stop in front of him, angry. He stared for a moment before saying, “I thought you liked playing?”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, shaking. “I do but that’s not what I want. I don’t want to win. I want something else and Tashi knows it but you never did.”

Art’s more confused now, standing silently as you sit down on the locker room bench, head in your hands. “What do you want?”

You scoff and look up, fury dissipating into disappointment toward both him and yourself. “The fact that you still don’t know now tells me everything.”

You let him walk out silently.

---

Art’s game was much more interesting. It was like watching a dance, the way he and Patrick moved was something you had never seen before. Patrick, as per usual, was cocky and irritating - something you had oddly found endearing when you were younger - but it was Art that had you fixed. He was furious, eyes sharp with tears and knuckles white. There was something that only the three of them knew that created this anger, creating such a captivating match.

The only thing, in your opinion, that beat the high emotion of the match was seeing Art after it, face red and shirt slick with sweat. The thing that held your attention, however, was the slight tan line around his finger. He had taken off his wedding ring.

---

A FEW MONTHS LATER - WIMBLEDON

Art was ready to retire and had been for a while, but you were still going, having found a more passionate love for tennis than you had had before. You were warming up before your final match, only an hour or so before playing the finals at the English open when there was a soft knock on the door of your dressing room.

You opened the door to see Art standing there, eyes soft and observant. You let him in, eyes still stuck to his ringless finger. He traced over your features, seemingly committing parts to memory. “You’ll win today,” He said after a while, words as gentle as the smile on his face.

“Maybe. But am I Tashi?”

“You’re better.”

You both laugh quietly, nothing but a few short breaths, then stare at each other. Though it seemed as though that didn’t last long. Art crossed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. He tasted sweet, like strawberries and cream - no doubt from one of the many Wimbledon food trucks that sold them. You leaned into him, hand finding a place on his thin waist. His own calloused hands rested against your hips, his lips moving gently against yours. Eventually, you both pulled apart, foreheads rested against one anothers. Art smiled.

“I know you’ll win. But just for luck.”

He placed a final kiss against the corner of your smile and headed toward the door, sending a final glance in your direction. You knew you were going to win too, though it felt like - in a way - you already had.

[kaybreezy3000]

You say five likes blonde women, I think five doesn't give a shit what color someone's hair is. Dolores usually has no hair at all, does that mean Five likes bald women?

No it doesn't, it just confirms that Five doesn't give a shit.

Dolores even has brunette hair in one episode and? Five doesn't care, if Five cared he would have said something about it.

Saying that Five only likes blonde women because he looks at a dancer and flirts with a woman who has blonde hair is kind of weird.

Dolores most likely had a blonde wig on at the beginning, which is why he imagines her like that.

Wow. There's some very anger laced 'shits' dropped in this one and I even got passive aggressively called a weirdo. This is me after reading this.

Just kidding. I am not Ron Burgendy and I didn't get this unpleasant message while in a telephone booth.

This is not my first comment on here that's not all that nice, and I am not shocked by it at all. I figured there'd be people who would get bent out of shape by my reply, but this anon ask I received today makes me think about people I care about on here who have been hit with mean spirited comments. It's so sad that people feel the need to do this in this way, and it worries me because there are people of all ages on here just trying to chat and make friends with people who are into the same things as them.

My point in answering it is not to start a pissing match. It's to make note of what my real reply actually said because this person got it all sorts of wrong. I also want to make people aware that this stuff happens a lot on here and other sites, and it really shouldn't.

I think we all agree that this is not the place to spread hate and angry speeches at people. This fandom is a kind one that is full of enthusiastic people that love the show and the characters and just want to have fun talking about them and speculating all sorts of things. With that, many in the past have made fun intended posts pointing out that the Hargreeves men tend to have a thing for blondes, that being Grace is blonde, Sissy was blonde, Dolores was blonde in Five's trippy spit goober moment with her, and even Lila dyed her hair blonde. That said, we all know that Sloane is not blonde, and Harold wasn't either, but that was not the point, and it didn't even occur to me to blast them with shit bombs of anger about it. It was just an innocent musing, and I am assuming the person who wrote this for me would take issue with that innocent musing as well.

The point is, sending anonymous asks to people like this is not a cool thing to do, but I am guessing the person who wrote it is aware of that. People on here and A03 and Reddit get hit with this kind of negativity all the time on their ideas, stories, and art, and I wish those that feel the need to so bash others would think twice about it and look back at themselves and try to figure out why they are so mad about such silly things and if it really makes sense to feel that way at all.

That said, I seemed to have hit a sore spot with this person with my response on the original 'ask' someone gave me on Five maybe liking/or having a preference for blondes.

Link to the original post.

To the person upset, keep in mind that Five is a fictional character from comic books and a Netflix show. Five Hargreeves, in his mind, one that isn't even real, other than in what the actor gave us with his brilliant insight and the helpful direction of the producers, and what we individually like to imagine for him, may not as you said, 'give a shit what color someone's hair is or have any preferences when it comes to attraction.' But there is no need to be so upset or blow me up like this about it and I'm not so sure you even read my response because I myself fictionally see him with many other kinds of people.

You apparently by what you said above, have direct knowledge of what this fictional character would say or do, so maybe instead of posting this to me in your anon mad person style, you can do a post and speak your mind on the topic and give your reasons for your thinking and back it up with stuff from the show or comic or don't back it up with anything at all-anything goes on here, not sure if you noticed that yet.

I am sure you are not the only one who thinks I am 'weird' for what I came up with and my reasons. You are not the only one out there that thinks I am horribly wrong for my interpretations of these scenes. And maybe you are right that Five would 'say it out loud if he cared one way or another if someone was blonde or not.' Not that you agree based on your emotional statement, but to me, that really is neither here nor there because the show didn't have that happen and the topic didn't come up for Five to say anything like that. I was only basing my reply off things actually shown us, so that's why my response was stated the way it was. You can think and do as you please, just please don't fire your opinions so vapidly and maybe do it with your actual username next time. If you really feel this way, you will have no worry putting it out there for people to respond directly to you.

I'm not a beautiful blonde or a sexy club dancer and I don't feel called out by the show making it look like Five likes blondes and likes watching girly shows, so I am not sure why you'd be so miffed about the idea the show gave us or it being discussed between fans of the show.

Someone can have a liking to a certain attribute in others but not have it be the only way they like things. My intention in answering that ask was in fun and simply looking at the things that point to yes, based on the show and the parts it gave us with Five and him eyeing up women, it does give the impression that he likes/enjoys blondes. The dancer part doesn't really matter, but he was at a club with scantily clad dancers so... yeah again, try to chill out about that, it wasn't even a point in what I was saying, it was just what the show had him doing.

I never said Five only likes blonde women because he looked at a dancer and flirted with a woman who has blonde hair. It's weird to me that you read all that and that's the take on all of that you chose to get disgruntled about.

The main part of what I wrote that matters was that if Five didn't like blonde hair, he never would have envisioned Dolores as a blonde in season 3 when he had no reason to otherwise. That said, for all I know, he could have seen her with a different color of hair every other day or even as a bald piece of plastic like she really was.

Again, my reply is only based on the source material they gave us, not my own projections.

Dolores's wig was actually brown-ish auburn in the store when he found her there in season 1, so it's probable it was still the same wig she had on when the blast happened. Five may not have seen that though because it may have been ruined and it may not have mattered to him in what he later saw her as. I mention that in my post and in the comments on the original post after someone else pointed that out who seemed upset, and I also said many other things in regard to Five and his seemingly being into blondes on the show, and that I personally feel very flexible on that idea. I write and read about him with other types of people-not all blondes.

Five Hargreeves is just a fictional character, so we can all put our own take on him and his preferences and that is all good with me and I encourage it. The post I did was merely intended in good nature to chat with a fellow fan and to discuss the show's version of him based on the scenes they gave us.

Perhaps trying to look at it less seriously and go with kindness towards yourself and others, and perhaps doing some personal reflection next time if something so unimportant sets you off is a better place to spend your time.

Or...my suggestion to all of us on here would be that if you see something you don't like, ignore it. My ideas and thoughts and art and stories are nothing but jack-shit in the big scheme of things that matter. So, ignore the post I made like so many other posts out there that I am sure don't agree with you.

As always, ☮️&❤️ and long live TUA fandom-you are a uniquely passionate crew and I love you all,

Breezy

[invinciblerodent]

Okay I feel like my experience of DAI might be a bit.... I guess I could say unique? because my main Inquisitor is a human who is a devout Andrastian, AND pro-mage/pro-elf (it's a long story, he goes through some Character Development), but since last night's post, i've been mentally pacing up and down, thinking about how the "truth vs. lies" narrative throughline applies to Vivienne and her personal quest.

Because... well, hers is the only one (iirc) where you can choose to lie to her. Not tell her to keep up a lie (Blackwall), or lie because she's asking you to lie (Sera), or to conceal what she's discovered (Cassandra), but just straight up lie to her face when she's expecting the truth, and whether she's lying to you or not in general is not even the focal point at that juncture: she just comes to you requesting help, and you can either give it, or deny her.

And regardless of what you do, the facts, the events, don't change, which is what gets me. Nothing tangible happens if you decide to screw her over: whether you give her the heart of a snowy wyvern or just a regular gurgut, her formula will always fail, and Bastien dies. The only difference your lie makes is in her feelings about you, and in her knowing that you're not above stabbing her in the back.

Because if you do choose to accept her request (even though you can just turn it down, and nothing happens besides some approval loss), agree to help her, and then betray her, Vivienne knows. I don't think the game says when she finds out (be it while preparing the potion and she just forges on, hoping that it'll work anyway, or upon looking into it after it fails to see why it failed), but she tells you that much: that she is well aware of your deception, and she doesn't mince her words in voicing her contempt for you.

And man, Vivienne in general is just so fascinating to me.

I mean, she's simultaneously one of the most honest and caring companions, and also one of the ones with the clearest ulterior motives. She, like Bull, basically comes right out the gate and tells you the moment you meet her that she is in this for the power and the opportunity that you present, essentially admitting to you that you are little more than a stepping stone, and early on, her approval can swing wildly: maybe more than for any other companion. And what I keep noticing about that is that these swings are most affected by conversations, where you can lie, far more than your actions, which kind of leads me to believe that she either values your agreeing with her, or in other kinds of setups, you having the good sense to tell her what she wants to hear even if it's not true.

And like, I don't have the brain power at the moment to dissect her deep-seated fears and caution, how her general disapproval tends to boil down to risks and danger, and her whole Deal with why she, as a mage, is so opposed to mage freedom, I'd have to replay the game again to be able to articulate all my thoughts and feelings on that, but it just..... It generally fascinates me how her approval can be maxed out through pretty much conversation alone, while making all the "good" but risky choices that she disapproves of (mage alliance with full freedom, allied wardens, etc.), and before you'd even talk about Bastien's family with her.

And, if she sees an ally in you, man, she's so kind. If she likes you, she's one of the only people to ask you if you're alright after Haven, she offers advice and tries to help the best way she can, and she approves of helping the people of Haven, and of you "yes, and"-ing her, and not wallowing in empty platitudes but letting her have her space to mourn how she wants to, and I just......

Gaaah, I love Vivienne and I keep thinking about her. She makes a terrible fucking Divine, but I just... I'm just looking at her with stars in my eyes, ready to agree with whatever she says and then fuck off to do the exact opposite, knowing that I got a good grade in agreeing with her anyway.

[fideidefenswhore]

the downfall and execution of a tudor queen (2023) / the boleyns: a scandalous family (2021) / the king's pearl: henry viii and his daughter mary (2017), melita thomas / anne boleyn (tv miniseries 2021) / the mirror and the light (2024) / elizabeth (1998)