#.....i don't even know if i really do want to get over them

[marshemillow]

I definitely feel like there's been some kind of disconnect along the way, because as many people on this post have already pointed out, Wattpad and FFN still have "objectionable" stories all over the goddamn place, the only difference between those sites and AO3 is that everything on AO3 is accurately and meticulously tagged. The only time a fic isn't tagged thoroughly enough (in my experience anyway) is when a fic author purposely wants the story to be a surprise, which doesn't count as "undertagging" according to the rules of the site because "author chose not to warn" is still a clear warning (similar to "Viewer discretion is advised").

In fact, I support AO3 as the "objectionable" fic site specifically BECAUSE I hate upsetting fic, and it's so nice to so easily be able to avoid fic I don't want to read. I have NEVER stumbled onto something on AO3 that I wasn't expecting, and I promise you that is NOT the case with every other site I've used (aside from old DeviantArt, you know back when it didn't take a hundred years to load its shitty squarespace pages).

What I think happened was these new people who were driven from those old sites for whatever reason don't seem to recognize the reason why AO3 became so popular, but still want to pay lip service to the idea that some "content" is too morally objectionable to be allowed to exist. They somehow think there's a compromise between the old sites deleting at random, forcing authors to tag improperly so it doesn't get deleted, and AO3's approach, which is to just destroy the loopholes that allow mass deletions and censorship and allow anything and everything legal under US law.

AO3's code is open source. You can literally just copy/paste the code into a new domain and make the squeaky-clean censored fic site of your dreams! Hell, lots of people who use AO3 for its policies still make their own fic sites just in case something bad happens to the big site (which is good practice btw and is the reason why I have a special backup SSD I don't touch most of the time, so even if every website fails, I still have copies of everything I ever wrote) but these people don't want to do that because it's actually really difficult to run your own website with lots of traffic, so instead they cover their asses by proclaiming the immorality of AO3 while still using it because it is just objectively the best fandom site ever made.

Basically, they want to have their cake and eat it too. And this is me REALLY trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. 😅

It's hilarious to me when people complain about AO3 and its policies, and what they allow on the site - but it's ESPECIALLY funny when people complain like "Why can't the freaks make their own site and just go there?"

Sweetie... AO3 is the site for that. Y'all invaded our space.

Wattpad and FFN still exist. Go there. They're as shitty and G-rated as you want. You can't have the luxuries that AO3 offers if you're gonna be a little bitch about its policies. Imagine walking into a strip club and complaining about the alcohol and naked ladies when there's a god damn Dennys next door you could have gone to. Christ.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Luke would be the type to keep his private life very private so him having a gf only really his family and friends in michigan know so the devils have no clue and i could see the boys always trying to get luke to hookup with people for like a whole season till next season when they finally learn luke has had a gf the whole time

Oh boy, 100%. He always just politely tells them he's not interested in dating anyone or having a casual hookup or pretends he doesn't notice what they're doing. Jack 100% does not help, he finds it hilarious when any of the guys are trying to get Luke to talk to some random girl in a bar, but he will 100% confirm to you that Luke is the most loyal boyfriend you could ask for. I also see Luke feeling guilty about it even though he hasn't done anything, so every time he gets back to the apartment he's telling you if you live together or phoning you if you don't and basically confessing his 'sins', like 'i'm so sorry, baby, Marky tried to get me to go out with this blonde and she wouldn't stop touching my arm and I told her I wasn't interested and I only love you.' Definitely reaches a point where he breaks and just goes 'STOP! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND' and all the guys are just like 'why the hell didn't you tell us this sooner?' Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Hey, C'mon, Rusty! What about the blonde at the end of the bar?" Curtis points to a young woman around Luke's age, platinum blonde hair, little black dress, who's eyeing Luke like he might be candy. It doesn't flatter him, if anything it sends a sick feeling to his gut, a roiling discomfort because only you're allowed to look at him like that. You can eye fuck him, no one else. He feels objectified.

"Curtis, I've told you I'm not interested. Not my type." Not his type because his girlfriend is his only type and there's only one of you. It doesn't matter if 100 attractive women all tried to get his number right now, he wouldn't care, wouldn't give it out because you're the one he wants. Literally no one compares to you, he's smitten, whipped, absolutely in love.

"C'mon, seriously! You didn't go out with anyone all last season! Not even a hook up, you're celibate, man! You're young, you should be having fun!" Curtis knocks his shoulder with a grin and Luke just grips his beer tighter, feeling a familiar frustration at the situation. He spent all of last season dealing with the boys trying to goad him into hook ups and flings, throwing women at him like it was their duty to get him laid. He hated every minute of it.

"Yeah, Lukey, you were practically celibate, a monk," Jack chimes in, arm thrown over Luke's shoulder with a grin, the irony of his words not lost on either of them because Luke was definitely not celibate last year. He just wasn't hooking up with random strangers, because he'd started dating you, because you were the only person he wanted to see, to kiss, to sleep with and that still stood firm and true.

"Just go talk to her, maybe you'll get lucky and go home with her tonight! C'mon, what's wrong?" It's Dougie that chimes in this time and Luke wants to die. He wants to die. Or alternative go to your apartment and curl up with you in bed because this is the worst.

"Yeah, are you scared, Lukey?" If Jack wasn't his brother he'd have killed him already, killed him for encouraging all of this bullshit for a year, knowing full well that Luke wasn't single. But, he can't because his mom would be upset if Jack died...he rolls his eyes at him instead, shrugging his arm off of his shoulders.

"You're not secretly a virgin or anything, right, Rusty?"

"Fuck off, Lazar." He snaps, not because it would matter if he was, but because it's stupid that that's the only reason people can comprehend he wouldn't want to sleep around. Maybe it's just not his thing to have hook ups? Maybe he's focusing on his career? Maybe he's already in love and anything else would be cheap and insignificant in comparison?

"Oh, that's hit a nerve, some truth in that?" The guys are all grinning at him like they think they've got it all worked out and it just...it makes him snap, slamming the bottle of beer he'd been cradling to the bar top.

"No, y'know why I don't want to go talk to some random fucking blonde in the bar or hook up with whatever girl you throw my way? Because I've got a fucking girlfriend, okay? I'm not virgin! I'm not celibate! I just don't want to fuck a girl that isn't my girlfriend!" Luke's breathing heavy by the end of it, red it the face because it is so fucking annoying to constantly be bugged about it and he just wants everyone to get off his back. He's happily with you, he doesn't need random hook ups and he certainly doesn't need his team mates trying to get him laid like they have some moral duty to do so.

The way they look at him makes him feel stupid because suddenly they're all calling out variations of, "Dude! Why the fuck didn't you tell us this sooner?!" and he realises that maybe he could have solved this all months earlier by just saying he was seeing someone...like a normal person, maybe? But he'd wanted to keep things private...

He flounders for an explanation, mouth opening and closing, running a hand through his mess curls like that might help his brain to function.

"I just...it was new and...we were keeping it private."

It's Marky that turns to look at Jack, "Did you not know about this?"

"Oh, I knew." Jack is all smug enjoyment, leaning back against the bar and winking at the blonde Curtis had been trying to set Luke up with. Satisfaction rolled off him in cocky waves.

"Why they hell did you let us shove girls at your brother then?" Curtis asks, shocked, nay baffled because Jack had just spent an entire season practically encouraging the behaviour all while knowing full well Luke was dating you.

"It was funny," He shrugs with a grin and mentally Luke is considering whether the price he'd pay is worth putting itching powder in Jack's underwear drawer or maybe if cutting his hair in his sleep would be a better punishment since he can't rip another set of braces off him like Quinn did.

"That's messed up, Jack!" "Yeah, man!"

Luke sighs as the guys all ripped into Jack, downing the last of his beer and grabbing his phone off the bar top.

"Fuck this, I'm going to see Y/N."

"Ohh, you're girlfriend!?" And just like that Luke knows...he knows he's not out of the woods, it's just that the woods have changed from teasing and taunting him about hook ups, to doing so about his girlfriend.

Fuck, he hates being a younger brother.

[babyangelsky]

I love that Phu was wearing his teddy bear pajamas when he got blown by Cir

And I love it specifically because it flies in the face of a rather unfortunate trend that's always been present but that has been on my mind a lot lately.

A couple of months ago, I came across a post that referred to Teerak from Your Sky as "basically a child" and went in on the show for portraying him in any sort of sexual light and then went in on Muenfah and criticized him for wanting to do anything remotely sexual with Teerak and just—

No. NO. NO!

Listen, I don't give a fuck how someone interprets a character even if I disagree on every possible level. Art is subjective. How someone sees the art they consume and what they get out of it is none of my fucking business.

But there's this awful tendency to conflate cuteness with immaturity and to infantilize any character that exhibits any traits or preferences that can be read as cute. Hell, sometimes even a character's appearance is all it takes for them to be infantilized.

And it's always the same shit. If a character is shy, soft-spoken, bubbly, cheerful, or sweet, they're seen as a child. If they have plushies and enjoy lots of color, they're seen as a child. Act cute? Child. Like cute things? Child. Shorter than their love interest? Child. Younger than their love interest? Child.

Fucking STOP.

The person who made the post I referred to used a screenshot of Teerak hugging his Snoopy plush to somehow justify their interpretation and you know what? LIKING PLUSHIES AND CUTE THINGS DOES NOT MAKE SOMEONE """"BASICALLY A CHILD"""".

Whether or not a character (or a real actual person) likes cute things or happens to be sweet and soft-spoken and shy has nothing to do with how mature they are and it certainly says nothing about their sexuality and sexual desires. I turn 31 years old in just over a week and there are plushies on my bed. I put hearts all over my blog. Liking cute things just means you like cute things! That's all!

Teerak is adorable and colorful and sweet, and he's also a young man who's deliriously in love and HORNY for his boyfriend. He ALWAYS wanted to fuck that man and if he hesitated at first, it was due only to his lack of experience. Nothing else.

Which is partly why this scene:

Was so fucking great to watch. Not just because Teerak wanted to fuck his boyfriend and made his intent crystal clear and took the initiative, but because he was allowed to by the story. @iguessitsjustme wrote a great post about it, go give it a read.

More and more we're seeing BL's where both characters (THE CUTE ONES INCLUDED) are allowed and shown to want each other sexually and it's been amazing to see. Mutual horniness will never not be amazing to see.

Allll of that is why I love that Phukan was in his teddy bear pajamas in his love scene with Cir. Because like Teerak, Phukan is exactly the type of character that gets infantilized and that people get all pearl-clutchy about when he's portrayed doing anything sexual.

Phu is adorable and colorful and he likes being babied and he collects those cute little trinket things I can't remember the name of and he ALSO REALLY WANTS TO FUCK CIRRUS. To quote @poetry-protest-pornography , he was an active and enthusiastic participant in his first blowjob and that's exactly as it should be regardless of what he's wearing or what he likes! He's a full person with a functioning libido and I'm so happy and grateful that the story isn't infantilizing him.

TL;DR, some of ya'll have got to let go of the notion that a character being/acting cute and them experiencing sexual desire are mutually exclusive.

[beefcakekinard]

"Grab a seat."

Bobby claps Buck's shoulder as he passes on his way into the kitchen. Well - sure, it's got a fridge and a stove, but Bobby's definition of kitchen vs kitchenette leans a little spoiled these days. They can't get out of this rental fast enough.

He comes back with two cups of coffee and sits opposite Buck at the table. He waits as Buck adds a heaping teaspoon of sugar to his mug, glowering at the surface of it while he stirs. He waits as Buck sighs with his whole body and flops back against his chair. Bobby blows the steam from his coffee, takes a scalding sip, and waits. Years of experience have taught him that when Buck's really chewing on something, the easiest way to get it out of him is to outlast his patience.

"I miss Tommy."

It helps that Buck and patience are barely acquaintances.

Buck's continuing the thought before Bobby can even open his mouth. "I can't get him out of my head, Bobby. It's, it's like he's haunting me! Everything I do reminds me of him, even if it has nothing to do with him, and I feel like I'm going crazy!"

Bobby waits. Buck pouts. When it's clear he doesn't have anything more to add, Bobby clasps his hands and leans forward.

"Why do you miss him?"

Buck rears back, looking confused. Bobby spreads his hands.

"You think about him when he's not around. What is it you're thinking about?" he asks. Buck considers the question and flushes. Bobby quickly adds, "Keeping it PG."

Buck scratches his nose, keeping his eyes averted. He takes a deep breath.

"I think... I think about how excited I always was to see him," Buck says to the tabletop. Bobby takes another sip of coffee.

"I think about - how I never had to pretend. Like he saw me, just me, and that was enough. I like, I liked, the way he made me feel about myself." Buck curls in on himself and picks at a thread on his jeans. "I, I miss who I was when he was around."

"Just because Tommy's not around anymore doesn't mean you can't be yourself," Bobby says. Buck takes the bait; he whips his head up to look at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"No, you, you don't understand, Bobby -" Buck leans towards him, insistent. "I miss how he cares so much about everyone even though he tries to look stoic and casual. I miss how he ugly-laughs at his own stupid jokes. I miss the way he talks to kids like they're adults and I miss how gentle he is with anything smaller than him. I miss how he fills his own dishwasher wrong and I have to fix it every time. I miss him more now than the day he broke up with me, what's wrong with me?"

The only sounds in the room are the ticking of the wall clock and the whooshing in-out of Buck's heavy breathing. Bobby waits until he calms down a bit, until he sits back in his chair again and awaits Bobby's input, looking like he's in anguish over it.

"You know he's not perfect." Bobby feels like he's lobbing a live grenade.

Buck scoffs. "Jesus, Bobby, if anyone knows that right now it's me. But I don't want perfect, I just want Tommy."

The clock ticks. Bobby drinks some more coffee. He waits.

Realization overtakes Buck's face between one blink and the next. "Oh," he says. Bobby smiles, enjoys his coffee, and waits some more.

"Oh!"

There it is.

Buck jumps up, springing to his feet like a cartoon character. "I, I have to go, I gotta - I have to go," he says, all in a rush. "Thanks, Bobby!" he calls over his shoulder before running out the front door, slamming it behind himself. The door opens a crack, just long enough for Buck to call, "Bye Bobby!" into the apartment before he's slamming it closed again. He sounds like a herd of galloping horses running down the hall.

Bobby smiles to himself. He checks the clock - Athena will be home soon, and he feels like whipping up one of her favourites for dinner. He takes the mugs - one empty, one full - into the kitchen and leaves them in the sink while he gets started.

[hotchnersangel]

BUT SHE’S LOOKING AT YOU.

Aaron Hotchner.

cw: It girl!reader x aaron, you’re just so hot everyone wants u tbh, alcohol, men.

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

You are aware that you were attractive, you never had any struggle getting attention from the public, not growing up, not in college and certainly not now. It was rare, apparently, to have both intelligence and beauty but you didn't believe it defined you and your capabilities. Though, it shocked people when you told them your job. They assumed you modelled or were a social media influencer or something of sorts, some guy even told you that your beauty was being wasted on working for the FBI. Yeah, saving people's lives is realllyyy unattractive.

The team was out in a celebratory drink for finishing a rough case, even Aaron had joined the team this time. He didn't often come out but he liked it when he did, he liked spending time with the team, with you, outside of working hours. Though, he disliked having to watch men goggle their eyes at you.

Rossi ordered drinks and a bar tender brought an extra one over.

"Sorry, I didn't order that." Rossi exclaimed and gestured to the drink in the bartenders hand.

"Oh, it was sent by the man at the bar for you." She eclaimed looking at you, you widened your eye and looked to the bar, seeing a man wink at you.

"Lovely..." you said sheepishly and pushed it away, back to her. "Am I okay to send it back?"

The bartender smiles and nods at you, as you watch her walk away and you look back to the team embarasssed.

"Hey pretty lady's on the radar." Morgan exclaimed and you shoot him a look, shifting in your seat and looking at Aaron who was already watching you.

"You act like it's not always like this," Emily shrugs and sips her drink as you protest, "honey, I don't blame them, I'd buy you a drink if you so much as breathed in my direction."

You laugh at her dramatic comment and shook your head. "I appreciate the praise but really I'm not interested."

"By him or by anyone because in the time we've known you, you've been hit on by all of us combined and tripled." JJ laughs and sips her drink, genuinely curious.

"You're dramatic," you say softly, "but, it doesn't mean that I don't want a relationship just... I don't like the men that hit on me I guess." You shrug, looking at Aaron.

"Some of the men are absolutely delicious sweetie, you can't deny that." Garcia argues excitedly.

Morgan seems to catch on. "Oh, oh."

"What?" you ask him curiously.

"Pretty lady over here has a crush." He smirks and the others gasp with excitement at the gossip.

"I'm getting another drink." You stand up and go to the bar, Aaron getting out to follow you. You both head to the bar and order your drinks, Aaron paying.

"You didn't have to pay," you smile at him, ignoring the glances being thrown in your direction from well... everywhere.

"No but I wanted to." He shrugs and looks at you as your drinks are getting prepared. "You look beautiful by the way."

You blush and look down them back up at him, grinning widely. "Thank you. So do you."

You thank the bartender but make no move to leave the bar to return to the table just yet, looking back at Aaron. "You're different with me, why?"

"What do you mean?" You smile as you look at him, you knew what he meant.

"You know what I mean. You don’t seem to be sending the drink I bought you back.” He smirks slightly and you laugh, looking into his eyes.

“I feel safe with you.” You shrug and sip your drink. “Plus, you’re double the man these are.”

He raises a brow at you. “How so?”

You sigh and look at him. “A girl wants to be considered more than ‘hot’, to be called more than ‘sexy’ in her lifetime.” You shrug and look up at him.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, you make me feel beautiful.” You say softly looking at him, tilting your head as you admire his face.

He smiles at you, a genuine smile as he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you back to the table. Sitting opposite you once more. You join in a conversation with Emily, Garcia, Spencer and JJ.

Aaron on the other hand id being smirked at by Morgan and Rossi. “Don’t.”

“Oh- we don’t have to say anything.” Rossi smirks, with a knowing look as he raises his glass to Aaron.

“You’re in the big L Hotch,” Morgan chuckles, shaking his head.

“Everybody watches her… she is probably the most wanted woman here tonight. I have no chance.” Hotch shakes his head.

“Everybody may be watching her, but she’s looking at you.”

——————

[pseudonymousposting]

Just use the word from before. You don't really need to worry about having a different word for everything unless the difference serves a purpose.

If your story is first person or primarily follows a specific POV or is told by a specific narrator, wouldn't it make sense that the storyteller is not a walking dictionary?

When people speak, they tend to have patterns anyway, and you don't notice them unless you're looking for it. I can refer to Hbomberguy's bit in his plagiarism video where he mentions that an AI asked to write a segment in his style uses the words, "buckle up." This points to how he uses that phrase often.

He jokes that this is because he's bad at writing. I beg to differ. The consistent use is really fucking good, actually, and I hope he doesn't correct for it in the future.

The pattern, when used specifically by him, has certain implications that will prompt a fan of his videos to notice when he is making a salient point integral to the theme he is conveying throughout the entire video. You also know that the example he is about to use is probably pretty goddamn funny, or notable, or egregious. Maybe you noticed that before. Maybe. If you've watched all of his videos, like twice each, at least.

If you're a fan of Dimension 20, it's quite likely you know all the words Brennan Lee Mulligan uses ALL the time.

Rad

INcredible

Hell yeah

All are little communicators from him as a DM. They're used so often, even casual watchers meme about it. Also Matt Mercer saying "how do you want to do this." Also make note, if Brennan Lee Mulligan starts monologuing with a question, brace yourself.

The use of these common, consistent, repetitive phrases actually communicates more. It would be ridiculous if Brennan Lee Mulligan got shy about using the same term and clumsily said "inferno affirmative," or something. Unless he was purposely doing it as a clunky bit just for laughs, and even then, doing it unprompted would just get a blank stare at this point. The repetition has a benefit, not a deficit.

Your peerless vocabulary is not the most important component of your craft. Your story is. Care less about finding a million different words to say the same thing, and focus more on saying what you need to say. Story good, not word good.

When people read a story, they might say "the plot was well constructed." Or, "the suspense kept me on my seat." Or, "I laughed so hard."

You know what they won't say? "There's was a nice diversity of words there. The writer did a good job of making sure they didn't use a word twice on a given page." I'd argue that if that's what a reader notices, the writer failed to craft a good story.

Complimenting a person on their extensive vocabulary is more a thing an adult does for a 'gifted' child. It's better to write an excellent narrative at a 3rd grade reading level than to write a bad story at a collegiate level.

Hell, it's better to write a good story at a 3rd grade level than it is to even write an amazing story at a collegiate level. You're communicating. Make sure you are doing so effectively first and foremost. Everything else is just fluff.

This falls in line with the thing where people will try to cap off quotes with unnecessary modifiers where "said" does just fine and is almost invisible. Y'know, the ol' "'snape!' Slughorn ejaculated." Why say many words when few words do trick, eh?

Not to say finding the right synonym isn't useful. Sometimes, a synonym carries specific implications or a slightly different meaning more suited to that particular use case. In this case, that synonym might actually be a better fit to serve your purpose.

Alternatively, it's possible the character could be more likely to use that word over another for any particular reason. It can speak to who they are in a way that can help you avoid a little exposition here and there. Hell, using outdated terms might do the same.

For example, a now deceased man who was an instructor before I flunked out of college, who was nearly 90 years old. I think he sometimes used stories from his career to try and provide a point without giving answers.

He started one such story with "there was this guy I worked with a long time ago. He was uh ambidextrous, yknow what I mean? Uhh, he was a switch-hitter or a uhh..a bisexual..."

I'm not gonna lie, I was fucking awestruck at the term "switch-hitter," referencing bisexuality. That term instantly made me a patriot for about two weeks. I'd never heard anything more apple-pie, bald eagle with a single tear, and inside the tear, you can see the twin towers, Ole Glory waving proudly in the background with fireworks bursting over the top motherfuckin AMERICA than "switch-hitter" meaning "bisexual" holy shit.

Anyway, shortening things, I flunked out, met my abuser, and fled town because I just couldn't live in the same town as them anymore. He called to check on me.

He told me he keyed in that something was wrong and felt the need to check in. He believed my story. He said a lot that helped me with my recovery.

Part of my story involved the fact that I'm trans, as queer relationship dynamics were, like, central to the abuse. Interestingly, unlike many people in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, this man pushing his 90s understood every single damn word of what I was saying.

I bring up this story because of the synonyms he uses and how we can think about their use in context. My mind trails back to the term "switch hitter," a 1960s slang term for bisexual used right after "Ambidextrous," an earlier term. Of course, the man immediately understood all this queer mumbo-jumbo I was saying and didn't flinch even a little about my being trans.

However, its use from a 90-year-old right after "ambidextrous" tells an entirely different story. It drops a hint that this guy may have been, at the very least, accepting of people who were involved in the gay rights movement during the time.

Desperately seeking a synonym for "bisexual" might yield you to terms which are today potentially offensive or harmful, but before the 1970s were descriptors that bisexuals would sometimes use to describe themselves. So, depending on who uses that term, it could be harmful, or it could be someone who fought against that harm long before that term ever had potential negative implications.

Also, note how many times I just said, "bisexual?" Did it feel repetitive? Probably not.

If the use of the synonym serves no purpose other than feeling like you need to use a different word, consider, "Why am I really looking for a synonym, here?" If it doesn't serve a specific purpose, then feel free to just use whatever word makes sense. If it matters for one reason or another, use that. Just use what works. This ain't a vocabulary test. You don't need to impress your middle school English teacher anymore. You're free.

[lavenderprose]

At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

✨ We listen, and we don't judge ✨

I'm thinking yan!Thangyu x reader x yan!Inho where after "Young-il" dogwalks Thanos and Nam-gyu for disrespecting him the way they did, the reader would start hanging out a lot more with In-ho as a means of security. Even if Players 230 and 124 get reader alone with them (i.e. the 3-person Mingle round) the Front Man still has a way of making Thanos behave himself (as seen in the show when he lets go of Myung-gi upon seeing the guy who kicked his ass without breaking a sweat)

So how would Thanos and Nam-gyu react to seeing their girl cozying up to the top dog? And how would In-ho react knowing that reader really liked seeing him put those boys in their places like that?

Ooo, now that's a good one! >:)

Flower among them

Squid Game masterlist

Yandere!Thangyu x fem!reader x Yandere!Hwang In-ho/Young-il

Cw/triggers: Yandere themes, jealousy, possessive behavior, dead dove do not eat.

Thanos and Nam-gyu sat at their corner, both looking at you from afar. Nam-gyu had his gaze set on Young-il, while Thanos eyed you. The effects of his drugs slowly wore off and he didn't seem as enraged while high, but he still was angry.

"I fucking hate this guy, bro." Thanos said, cracking his neck.

Nam-gyu tore his gaze off of Young-il. "Yeah me too. This asshole won our girl over."

Both of them watched as Young-il gave you his milk pack, Thanos had a neutral expression while Nam-gyu seemed to be almost seething.

Then came the speaker announcement for lights out, and the two laid down in their beds.

Meanwhile you still sat across Young-il, having just finished the milk. As you looked at him, you saw him already staring at you with a hint of a slight smirk.

"How are you feeling by the way?" He started softly.

"Good. So far."

Young-il scooted closer to you. "You don't have to worry about those two anymore. I'll make sure they behave." He smiled.

You hummed. "You really showed them their place earlier. They must feel so humiliated." You chuckled.

Young-il gently waved it off. "It's nothing. I... get like that when it comes to respect."

You smiled. "I liked it. Shows you got spirit."

Young-il gave a small cocky grin. "Well then you should stick close to me from now on."

In-ho noticed how vulnerable you looked and how easy you are on the eyes. He noticed you before but now the close proximity had his mind snap and he wanted to keep you all to himself, even if it means killing others.

Later that night, you woke up, feeling the need to pee. You made sure to be as quiet as possible. Once at the door leading to the bathrooms, you suddenly heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Hey Señorita." Thanos saundered towards you, with Nam-gyu beside him.

You ignored him, speaking to the triangle guard to open the door.

Nam-gyu leaned against the wall beside you while Thanos did on the otherside.

"Where is your protector?" Nam-gyu taunted, not caring about a second triangle guard appearing next to the other.

"Looks like he's giving you back to us." Thanos chimed in with a smirk.

You did not want to hear another word coming from them. You have Young-il now and they behaved like shit and still do. So you simply ignored them, stepping into the hallway leading to the bathrooms.

Both Nam-gyu and Thanos didn't like your ignoring and went after you.

"Hey don't ignore us, flower, we just want to talk!" Thanos gripped your arm and Nam-gyu grabbing your shoudlers to turn you around.

Just then both of them tensed up and loosened their grip on you.

"Player 124 and 230, let her go."

Came the voice of one of the triangle guards as they had their rifles pointed at Nam-gyu and Thanos' back.

Nam-gyu didn't want to let you leave. "Hey why are you so attentive towards other players so suddenly? Aren't you the ones killing them?"

"Let her go. Now." Came the last warning and with that, Nam-gyu and Thanos stepped back, giving you space just as Young-il stepped through the door.

Young-il just stood there, you saw him giving the guards a cold glance over before looking at you.

"Is everything okay in here?" Young-il asked innocently.

Thanos and Nam-gyu said nothing and made their way out as if they were scared of another beat up.

"Are you okay?" Young-il asked, stepping close to you and giving a worried look.

"Yes," you nodded "how did you know I was here?"

Young-il motioned outside. "I saw the light and your bed was empty. I wanted to make sure you're alright." he lied expertly. Of course he was awake the whole time, seeing you slip out of bed and the two junkies crowding you.

"Thanks for coming." You smiled weakly.

Young-il stepped even closer, putting his hand reassuringly on your shoulder.

"No big deal. But for now I think it's best for me to keep an eye on you just incase."

You gently shook your head. "You don't have to."

Young-il leaned closer. "I'm afraid you have no other choice. Either it's me keeping you safe or those two assholes." He said in a low, almost threatening tone.

"You will come to see how safe with me you are. And I'm the only one here capable of getting you out of here alive..."

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

Wished to be tagged :) : @i-might-be-vanny

[k3n-dyll]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; 18+, wlw, fem!reader, infidelity, cowgirl/southern butch!abby, set around 1800's wild west era, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), getting caught

𝐖𝐂 - 1.2k

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ I posted this a while ago, hated it, deleted it, kept it, 'fixed it' (?) and now here we are. Still kinda hate it but writer's block is turning me every way but loose.

If you let yourself linger on the thought for a moment—to do a bit of mental gymnastics to subside this nagging feeling of anxiety and shame—this really isn't your fault.

Truly. It isn't. It's theirs.

You weren't the one that wanted to marry, and you sure as hell wouldn't have chosen this suitor of all of them. That was your pious father. Good intentions aside, he was the one that confined you to this life.

And your sorry excuse for a husband, well, he took the other half of the blame. He's never home, and when he is the man always seems to have more important things to do. Not that you want his attention anyway, but still, it'd be nice to at least speak to the person you're forced to live with. Aside from when he wants to be inside of you, of course.

If not for them you wouldn't even be here.

If only your father hadn't mettled with your marital status - let you become a spinster instead. If your scraggly bearded husband had simply kept his shady business dealings in the back of a bar instead of inviting them to his home - her large, calloused hands wouldn't be caught so tightly around your hips. You wouldn't be sitting in the head chair of the office you weren't technically allowed to be in, eyeing the perpetually unfinished paperwork on his desk in a sad attempt to keep yourself grounded.

"You taste so fuckin' good, y'know that?"

Abby's voice and the warm, wet feeling of her tongue dragging along your slit bring you out of your own head, your hips bucking up slightly at the contact you've been all but begging for. Your lidded eyes trail down to the blonde positioned snugly between your legs with a furrowed brow, trying your best to seem disapproving through your moans. 

Who does she think she is? Popping up at your front door in the middle of the day, knowing damn well your husband wasn't home from work. This had only happened a few times before and even so, you knew exactly why she'd come over the moment you saw her and that stupid smug smirk she wears. 

She wanted to take you in his office this time. Defile the sacred workplace of the man she calls a "friend" simply to make you uncomfortable. To remind you that he couldn’t make you feel this good if he tried. 

Her piercing blues gaze right back into your own, half her face hidden by the crinkled up fabric of your skirts as she lets out a muffled laugh, the vibrations of her voice against your core making you shiver.

It's the last you see of her freckled face before your head is tossed back in pleasure, utter filth flooding past your lips as she laps at your cunt. No amount of guilt would ever make you feel low enough to tell her to stop - not when her tongue makes you squirm and twitch in ways your betrothed could only ever dream of doing.

Abby never fails to make herself seem like a woman starved, messily licking and sucking at your pulsing, puffy clit, slurping you up as if you were her first and last ever meal on this Earth.

And she'd be damned if she let you breathe for even a second.

She wants to hear you gasping, gulping for air before she allows herself to pull away and she does more even then. Pushing through a sore jaw and aching fingers without complaint for as long as you could handle it.

"A-Abby... can't take much more" You whine, your thighs squeezing onto either side of her flushed face as you gently palm at the top of her head.

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat at the curl of the two thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, a low, amused growl coming from Abby at the sound.

"Aw, c'mon baby. Y'got another one in there for me, don't you? You and I both know you won't get to feel this good for a long while once I'm gone" she speaks in that soft, honey-smooth tone that makes you weak in the knees. The gentle southern drawl laced within her every syllable sending jolts of pure ecstasy through your body. Looking down at her is a mistake you never fail to make in this circumstance. She knows what a simple look from her can do to you and she takes advantage of it without remorse, chuckling as she watches you nod eagerly in response.

"Atta girl" She lands a quick smack on your thigh before diving back into you, a concoction of spit and slick spilling down her chin and wetting your inner thighs, the only sound to accompany the smacking and sucking against your pussy being your whorish cries.

Your breathing becomes quicker and more shallow when you're close. Eyes glazing over as your jaw slacks, brows knitted together in desperation for another orgasm. Your tells are so predictable, yet so incredibly delicious to Abby. This is a state only she gets to see you in. Not that you've ever confirmed it aloud for her but regardless, it's clear that the pompous ass you're married to doesn't have the skill to make you cum.

"Say it, darlin'. C'mon, you know what I wanna hear" Abby growls, popping up from underneath your skirt, detaching her lips from around your clit, and replacing them with her thumb just to speak. Just to taunt you. You do know what she wants to hear, and part of you wants to roll your eyes at the thought. Maybe you would have if your brain wasn’t so fogged over - if you weren't so aware that she'd stop pumping her fingers inside of you completely if you didn't give her the satisfaction - maybe you would be so bold as to give her attitude.

"Only you - fuck! Only you can make me feel like this"

Abby chuckles “Yeah? He couldn’t make you feel this good, could he? Need me to take care of you, ain’t that right?”

You can only nod, bottom lip pinched between clenched teeth, the dam of tension resting in your abdomen readying to burst.

"I know, sweet thing. You wanna cum for me? C’mon, one more time.."

Your orgasm is blinding and loud, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you convulse under her touch, and your hair that had once been so neatly tied up is now a mess of frizz. You don't even hear the front door open from downstairs. Nor do you hear the footsteps that follow, too occupied with rutting yourself onto her fingers, gushing with each snap of your hips. Abby is just as oblivious, lifting up from her place between your thighs to crash her lips onto yours, too focused on wanting you to taste yourself on her tongue to even notice the jingling office door doorknob.

It's only when you both hear the old door begin slowly creaking open that your attention is snatched from one another, expressions shifting from ones of lust and satisfaction to pure horror as you both make eye contact with the twisted-up, angry face of the man you had just slandered aloud.

Shit.

Donations 4 Palestine - TLOU2 Masterlist

Taglist ; @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery , @tohoko, @rkivedpages,

@misfits-army-van, @vifilmsfilms , @dinakisser, @marsworlddd, @urbayolet

[olenoidedserratuspilled]

This is a lovely thread you have going on here, so I'll go ahead and do that thing when I butt in and shit all over it with my trademark doomerisms. If that's not something you wanna read, ignore the post from this point forward.

I'll preface this response by saying I'm AMAB. Do I identify as a man? I don't know and I don't care to know. I don't genuinely believe any of what I'm about to say, I'm only playing devil's advocate.

TERFy fearmongering about trans women being fundamentally dangerous derives from exactly the same toxic, fucked-up view of male sexuality - and of male existence - espoused by Evangelism: that all men are biologically predisposed to predation, violence and other sexual evils, such that they can't ever really be trusted.

While this is true, it misses the root both sentiments share: humans, regardess of gender, have an innate capacity for violence and harm. Said violence and harm often takes on the form of sexual predation when it comes from men. For much of history institutions enabled that human predisposition in men rather than attempting to combat it. You already know this, of curse.

Why's this relevant? Because you can never tell who has or lacks the predisposition for that kind of violence. It's the poisoned M&M allegory, the old game of hawks and doves. The hawks will always fight you for food while the doves will always share it, but you can't tell the hawks from the doves. Safest bet is to assume all others are hawks.

Violence directed against women by men is a widespread problem! But it doesn't follow that a majority of men are bad by default

Says who? "Many men are dangerous so most men are potentially dangerous" may not be objectively true, but it's a logical reaction to observable fact, and many people hold that view their whole lives without any issue. If there's no incentive, internal or external, to change a belief, why change it? "Because it's wrong" doesn't count as an incentive.

Many have been trained to entitlement and bad behaviour by patriarchal systems and misogynist ways of thinking, which are both things we have the power to change.

Why should we? It's not our job to educate/change them. If they don't want to change themselves, what reason is there to not just go "Fuck 'em"? The majority of female separatists I've seen, for example, understand that first half perfectly well and still arrive at my conclusion. I know I don't agree with them, but my bias on the matter should be obvious.

Attemping to affect this change and bring about equality is the core conceit of feminism, and we can see, very demonstrably, that it works.

Says who? Many feminists ont his very website disagree with it being the core conceit of feminism, or a conceit of it at all. Many posit that it doesn't work, and all indicators of it working are fabrications, outliars or insufficient. Maybe they're factually wrong, but if their message has the wider reach and greater staying power, do the facts even matter? I don't really think the do.

You're not only saying that the long-term goal of feminism is impossible

Oh it's very much possible. What you do is that you just punish all men collectively. Be it through isolation, termination or whichever other method you prefer. I think it'd be morally abhorent to do that, but if there's enough demand for it, what's it matter what I think?

For what it's worth, this isn't me saying everyone with "Kill All Men" on their bio actually means it. I don't think they do, but it'd be ideologically consistent if they did. That's the point I'm trying to get at here: the goal is to end the patriarchy. If you get the job done, who cares how you did it? Doesn't matter the color of the cat, as long as it catches mice, and it definitely doesn't matter what the mice think about it.

you're functionally agreeing with every disgusting, sexist rape-apologist who brushes off assault and misogyny as "boys will be boys" and "men are just like that."

Easy solution. Can't agree with them if they're all dead. Or isolated off in their own separate society. Whichever you find more palatable.

Their misdeeds aren't synonymous with their masculinity, but are rather choices they specifically have made.

Says who? If you decide that masculinity is defined by those choices, then yes they're synonymous with masculinity. Words can mean anything you want them to, if you an get enough people to agree with you. Is that fair? It is if you define "Fair" to include it.

rather than representing some default state of cruelty to which all men naturally revert, misogyny is instead taught

All this means is that misogyny can't spread if there are no men to learn it. Sounds like an easy fix. I know what you're saying! "That's not biologically possible! How will we reproduce?". There are a few answers:

A) It's not biologically possible yet. We just have to make it so.

B) The "good ones" can stay, under our conditions.

C) Who says we need to reproduce?

I find all of them morally repugnant, but then again, who asked me?

The teaching itself, while offering contextual authority to men, can also be harmful to them.

And why should you give a shit? They brought it upon themselves, it's their fault to begin with, they'd never show you the same sympathy you show them. If they hate it so much they can always just choose the rope. All of those are horrific things to say, sure, but who cares as long as the crowd agrees with them?

So why am I saying all of this, exactly? Because I think you're talking at a brick wall. I think the time to talk about this came and went a long time ago, and trying to do it now is only gonna get you grief. You can't reverse entropy. You're on fucking Tumblr, for crying out loud. People here just see the word "men" and start typing up Anon hate.

But sure, keep punching the tip of that knife the rest of your life. Have fun.

I cannot express how jarring it was after being raised by a "Porn Addiction Coach" to get into a relationship with a woman and come face to face with the fact that she did actually want me to sexually desire her.

Like, in Evangelical Purity Culture, male desire was basically poison. It was a threat. It was this constant temptation that would destroy everything. And even after leaving, in the sort of queer, feminist spaces i spend most of my time in that wasn't something that pretty much anyone was spending time actively dissuading me from feeling.

But my desire is good. It's not something that I'm being accepted in spite of. It's a positive thing. It's a bonus. Not even just vanilla stuff, all the stuff I'd convinced myself were these weird terrible desires that were shameful to have.

It honestly took me over a decade to fully accept that. To stop dissociating during sex and confront that I was, in fact, being a massive perv and that was fantastic and preferable and that I could accept that into my self-image without shame or self hatred.

But it's important to do. It's important to leave relationships that don't welcome that part of you. To know that your sexuality is valuable and valid and worth owning and celebrating. Because the alternative is just...not being. Either existing as yourself and repressing the part of your identity that is sexual or allowing that sexuality to exist but turning off your self while it does.

[enhaniki-san]

Nishimura Riki as your classmate that's in love you.

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

♱ student!reader who is a mean girl and delinquent but classmate!ni-ki thinks he might be into it.

♱ classmate!niki who keeps on showing up wherever you go.

"what the fuck, ni-ki? do you have a tracker on me or something?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

he replied, "it's just a coincidence." shrugging casually. "don't flatter yourself."

"bullshit." you shot back, crossed arms. "you're always popping up where i least want you."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who's very attentive to you and even though he never actually said it, he's making it painfully obvious how much he likes you.

when the teacher had finally decided to do something about your constant tardiness, you ended up sweeping the dusty classroom floor where ni-ki spotted you.

"what do you want?" you asked when you heard his footsteps. you turned to face him, resting your hands on the broom handle.

he replied, "i'm just going to wait for you."

you rolled your eyes and turned back to your task. "don't you have something better to do?"

"hmm, not really." he stepped into the room, "i think this is more fun."

"watching me clean? oh you've got a weird definition of 'fun'."

he didn't answer. he simply stood there, watching you and even though he is silent, ni-ki's presence was still distracting.

you felt tired suddenly and with a huff, you glanced over your shoulder.

"ca-can you help me?"

the words left your mouth quietly before you could stop them, you instantly regretted it. "my god..." you thought. you weren't used to asking anyone for help, let alone ni-ki's.

your cheeks burned slightly as you turned away. "nevermind..." you said, turning to focus on the floor again.

ni-ki stepped forward and took the broom from your hands without a word.

"hey-"

"i got it." he said, cutting you off. he started sweeping like he'd been doing it all his life and within minutes, the dirt pile you'd been struggling with had already doubled in size.

you stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do or feel with yourself. "you don't have to do everything..."

"you asked for help, so i'm just being thorough." he said, making you flustered.

you turned away and muttered, "thanks, i guess."

"no problem." he replied, still focused on sweeping.

you couldn't help but steal a glance at him. his sleeves were rolled up slightly and his hair was bouncing with every movement.

ni-ki looked so…

and before you could finish that thought, he dusted his hands off with a satisfied smile. "done. anything else you want me to do?"

what is he, a butler?

you stared and blinked at him, unsure how to respond. finally, you shook your head. "no... that's it."

"good." he said, walking past you to put the broom away then he leaned close to you making you step back. "next time, just ask me from the start. you know i don't mind doing stuff for you."

"are you genie?"

"jinny? who's that jerk?"

"the genie from the movie, you idiot..."

ni-ki laughed awkwardly. "ahh the one from movie."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who gets jealous easily when a guy approaches you.

"hey." a voice called. you looked up to see a guy from another class approaching, smiling easy and confident. "do you wanna partner up for gym?"

"ni-ki! here!"

you turned and saw ni-ki standing with a group of guys with a soccer ball in his hands. he was staring at the guy beside you and without hesitation, he launched the ball. not towards his friends though but directly at the guy's head.

the ball smacked into the back of his head with a satisfying thud, cutting off whatever the guy was about to say.

"ow! what the hell?" the guy turned around, rubbing the back of his head as niki jogged over, faking innocence.

"sorry, bad aim." ni-ki said, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

the guy said something under his breath before walking off, leaving you staring at ni-ki in disbelief.

"seriously?" you asked, shaking your head.

ni-ki shrugged, completely unapologetic. "yeah, so what?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes, kicking another rock as you walked away from him.

♱ classmate!ni-ki who keeps asking you to go to school everyday that you actually started showing up little by little and going in early didn't seem so bad anymore, and not to mention, you're grades were starting to improve too.

you handed back his notes then ni-ki adjusted your tie, his knuckles were brushing against your chest.

suddenly, ni-ki glanced at his watch then cupped your face gently. "i gotta go before someone sees me hanging out with a bad girl." he teased, grinning while anticipating your reaction.

you raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "oh, so you're embarrassed to be seen with me?"

his lips curled into a smirk, "i'll kiss you in front of everyone if you want." he said, adding a laugh.

you eyes widened, heat started to rush to your cheeks. flustered, you pulled his hands away. "you just said-"

"i'll see you later!" ni-ki interrupted, spinning on his heel with a playful grin before sprinting off, leaving you standing there, completely stunned.

"that guy..."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who teases you about your handwriting but secretly keeps every note you've ever written for him.

♱ classmate!ni-ki who kept asking to copy your homework, but it's actually just an excuse to check if you did it right.

♱ classmate!ni-ki whom you unexpectedly started making out with, one night while studying at your house.

and when he stood and stretched after, you accidentally looked at his pants where his dick were straining against the fabric, making a tent on his sweats.

you quickly whipped your head away. but ni-ki noticed and laughed as he walked towards the bathroom. "yeah, but i promise it's nothing you can't handle."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who seems to be really patient with you.

you wandered through the library then you spotted niki sitting by the window. his head were leaning back against the seat, eyes closed and looking so peaceful.

your heart ached slightly. you sat down quietly beside him, trying not to disturb him.

and as if sensing your presence, ni-ki's eyes fluttered open. a small smile formed his lips as he shifted, putting his arm on the back of the seat behind, welcoming you. then, without a word, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

"i missed you." he murmured, his voice were low and sleepy.

you swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck and cheeks. "what happened the other day…" you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "did you tell anyone?"

ni-ki lifted his head slightly, his expression turned into worry. "no, of course i didn't."

"good…" you muttered, letting out a shaky breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

he smiled faintly and rested his head against your shoulder again, his hand grabbed yours, caressing it, as if reassuring you.

"i- it's not a big deal, right? niki?" you asked.

ni-ki's jaw tightened for the briefest moment, his outward calm masking the storm that's happening inside. maybe it's just making out but the truth? he's been thinking about it nonstop, replaying every detail in his mind and it gave him more clarity just how much he likes you... and that he had probably stroked his dick thousand more times since that day.

but he wasn't about to let you know that.

"no." he whispered, his lips brushing close to your ear, "it's not."

you turned to him, your eyes lighting up with relief. "great! thanks…"

before he could respond, you stood abruptly, brushing your skirt down. "well, i've got to go now. see you!" you said, smiling while giving him a quick wave.

ni-ki watched you go, his hand still resting on the seat where yours had been moments earlier. he sighed confused, running a hand through his hair.

"yeah, sure." he muttered to himself, half-heartedly returning your wave. his eyes watched you until you disappeared from view, and then he leaned back in his chair, the ache in his chest stronger than ever.

♱ classmate!niki who uses your birthday as his phone passcode.

♱ student!reader who's slowly getting more conscious and aware about how popular ni-ki is, but he's yours.

you went back to class where you notice girls were chatting together. "niki asked me to wait for him after class!" a girl squealed nearby, her excitement cutting through your thoughts.

your ears perked up liked a dog then stepped closer to eavesdrop.

"do you think he'll ask you out?" another girl added.

you scoffed audibly, unable to help yourself. the sound drew their attention and you froze as their curious gazes landed on you. blinking awkwardly, you mumbled an apology and quickly walked away.

you: are you busy after class?

you: are you going somewhere with someone?

ni-ki: oh, right. i'm just going to talk to the new class representative. like an orientation thing.

ni-ki: i can cancel, though.

you laughed loudly and shook your head.

you: no, no! don't cancel. we can hang out later.

later, the two of you were lounging on your couch, the TV playing in the background. ni-ki had his head resting on your lap, scrolling aimlessly on his phone but after a while, he sat and he set it aside. you could feel him staring at you.

"what?" you asked, not bothering to look away from your own phone.

he didn't answer immediately, instead he gently moved your hair to the side. his fingers were brushing lightly against your neck.

"stop." you muttered, still scrolling.

ni-ki chuckled softly. "i don't want to."

sighing, you set your phone aside as well, giving him an exasperated look. "why the hell do you keep doing this?"

"doing what?"

"i don't know, maybe the flirting, doing everything for me, following me around-"

"oh, i thought you already knew." ni-ki interrupted.

"knew what?"

"that i like you." he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

you blinked, taken aback, before scoffing. "how can you say that so casually…" you muttered under your breath.

he smirked at your reaction. "what? it's true. i thought you knew."

"i know that! but i just never heard you actually say it until now." you replied, your voice quieter than before.

ni-ki sat up slightly, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to meet his gaze. "i like you, y/n."

you turned your head slightly. "i- i said i know that… you don't have to repeat it."

his lips curved into a mischievous smile. "you shy?"

you pushed his hands away, cheeks flushed. "i'm not!"

ni-ki didn't buy it, a chuckle escaped his lips. he reached down and grabbed one of your thighs, effortlessly pulling it over his lap.

"i bet you're going to stop being like this once i become your girlfriend." you mumbled.

he shook his head with a smirk. "hmm, i don't think so."

"rea- really?"

he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "yes," he murmured. then, his arms wrapped around you. "come closer."

you scooted closer to him, your heart pounding as he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a series of soft, gentle kisses. slowly, the kisses deepened, his hands sliding to your waist.

your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as his lips trailed down your jawline, every touch of his lips on your skin made you shiver.

breathless, ni-ki paused, his lips hovering over yours.

"you're hard." you said.

he kissed you again, deeply before pulling away slightly. "it's okay."

"but i want to..." you whispered against his lips. ni-ki smiled, reaching down and with a slow, deliberate motion, pulled his pants down, revealing his erection that's pulsing with anticipation.

he felt a rush of heat as your eyes locked onto him, the intensity in your gaze sending shivers down his spine. he reached out, cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

his cock throbbed when he felt your fingers around it, light as feathers, stroking his hard length.

ni-ki's breath hitched as you lowered your head, your lips following the path your fingers had taken. "that's good..." he groaned out as you took him in your mouth. the sensation was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. your head bobbing up and down, gagging each time his cock hit the back of your throat.

he gripped your hair, his fingers tangling tightly in the soft strands causing slight pain you chose to ignore.

"yes, just like that." he managed to gasp, breath catching in his throat while arching into your mouth as the pleasure became overwhelming. ni-ki shuddered, a deep guttural sound escaping him, hips bucking wildly as he came, a hot burst of release flooding your mouth.

cum started to drip in the corner of your mouth, "don't let it out." he said, wiping the remains as he watched you swallowed it like a good girl, your eyes locked on his.

you sat beside him with a smirk playing on your lips. "you're a freak."

ni-ki chuckled at your remark. "for you."

you started making out again, the kiss charged with the afterglow of what had just happened. then you felt his hand slip down, stroking his member, which was already starting to stiffen again.

"you're still hard..."

"i know, right?" ni-ki groaned, looking so needy. "can i put it inside you?"

a/n: the only way i could write these days lol

please read Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend

read part-timers!niki x reader

read part-timers!niki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

read exes - niki x reader

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Honey, I'm home

Pairing: Juju Watkins x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Fluff | Secret Relationship | First-Person POV

Summary: Soft Launch pics to Hard Launch kisses

I was sitting cross-legged on my couch, phone in one hand and a bowl of fruit in the other, scrolling through my notifications. My newly released song was everywhere—TikTok, Twitter, Instagram. Fans were analyzing the lyrics, dissecting every line, and trying to figure out who it was about.

They had no idea.

"THIS HAS TO BE ABOUT SOMEONE!" one tweet read.

"Who broke her heart, who healed it, and how do we thank them?" another fan wrote.

I smirked, taking another bite of pineapple. The thing was, the song wasn’t about heartbreak—it was about her.

Juju.

My secret girlfriend.

We had been soft launching each other for months—her wearing my merch at post-game interviews, me casually posting a pic of our intertwined hands without showing her face, her commenting a simple emoji under my pictures. Subtle, but not too subtle. Enough to keep the fans guessing.

Then, she went and turned it up a notch.

Juju Watkins tagged you in a post.

I clicked the notification, and my breath hitched. It was a mirror selfie of us from last night—me leaning against her, half my face visible, and her hand resting on my waist. But what caught my eye was the gold chain around her neck, shining under the dim lighting.

My initials.

And I had the same exact chain with hers.

As if that wasn’t enough, she posted the picture on her Instagram story, with my song playing over it.

The internet went insane.

The next evening, I was in the kitchen, live on Instagram, breaking down the meaning behind the song while cooking.

"Okay, so the first verse is about meeting someone when you least expect it, right? Like, you don't go looking for love, but it just—" I snapped my fingers, "—finds you. That's what happened to me."

The comments were rolling in.

"WHO???"

"Drop the name, girl."

"Soft launch era over???"

I chuckled, stirring the sauce on the stove. "Y'all so nosy."

Just then, the front door swung open.

"Honey, I'm home!"

My soul left my body.

I whipped my head around, eyes wide as Juju strolled into the kitchen, completely unaware that I was live.

The comments blew up instantly.

"JUJU???"

"NAH, DID SHE JUST SAY 'HONEY, I'M HOME'?"

"WE KNEW IT!!!"

Juju finally noticed my phone propped up against the spice rack. Her eyes widened slightly, but instead of backing out, she smirked and walked straight up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind.

"Wait—Ju, I'm live," I whispered, but it was too late.

She kissed my cheek, then my jaw, then—oh. Right on the lips.

The live chat lost its mind.

I groaned, laughing against her lips. "You really just did that?"

Juju grinned, resting her chin on my shoulder. "They were gonna find out eventually, might as well be now."

"HARD LAUNCH LETS GOOOOO."

"Juju said 'idc no more' LMFAOOO."

"I KNEW IT WAS HER I JUST KNEW IT."

I shook my head, playfully pushing her away. "Fine, since you're here, you can help me cook."

Juju held up her hands. "Oh no, last time I helped, you almost set the kitchen on fire."

"That was your fault!" I shot back.

She smirked. "Okay, sure. Babe"

I roll my eyes, "Judea I swear,"

She gasped. "Not you using my full name on live!"

The comments exploded again.

"JUDEA?? WE GETTING GOVERNMENT NAMES NOW???"

"This live is the gift that keeps on giving."

Juju laughed, grabbing a spoon and stirring the sauce. "So, tell them about the bridge in your song. I love that part."

I side-eyed her but continued, "Okay, so the bridge is the most personal part for me. It’s about realizing that love isn't about being found, it's about being seen—and wanting to stay right where you are."

Juju's smile softened. "That’s my favorite line."

I turned back to the camera. "Alright, y’all. That’s enough tea for tonight. Dinner is almost ready, and somebody needs my full attention."

Juju smirked. "Damn right."

And with that, I ended the live, knowing the internet would be in shambles for days.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[hansmic]

*. * · ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇɴꜱ *. * ·

model! felix x photographer female! reader

MDNI!!

summary: A photographer and a model, whose lives have never truly intersected, find themselves working together on an important project. As the photoshoot progresses, the chemistry between them grows, leading to unexpected moments of intimacy and vulnerability.

genre: fluff, romance, smut

warnings, unprotected sex, fingering, kissing

word count: 2.9k

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As a professional photographer, you pride yourself on your technical skills and artistic eye. But there's something about this particular photoshoot that has you feeling a little nervous. Maybe it's the importance of the project, or maybe it's the fact that the model you'll be working with is none other than Felix, a man you've never met before but have seen in magazines and on billboards all over the city.

You arrive at the studio early to set up, and as you're adjusting the lighting and cameras, you hear the door open and in walks Felix, looking even more handsome in person than he does in photographs.

He introduces himself and you shake hands, feeling a small jolt of electricity at his touch. You get right to work, directing Felix to pose in different outfits and settings, snapping pictures as he complies.

As you continued to take photos, you couldn't help but notice how easy it was to work with Felix. He seemed to have a natural charisma and poise in front of the camera, effortlessly transitioning from one pose to the next.

"Is this what you had in mind?" he asked, as he posed against a white backdrop.

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at his ability to follow your directions and yet still add his own flair to each shot.

"Yes, that's perfect," you said, looking through the lens and capturing the image. "You're a natural at this, you know."

Felix chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks," he said. "I've been doing this a while, but it's always nice to work with a talented photographer."

You feel a little flutter in your stomach at his compliment, but quickly brush it off as you focus on the task at hand.

As the photoshoot progresses, you can feel a growing chemistry between you and Felix. It's subtle at first, but as the hours pass, it becomes more and more apparent. There are moments where your eyes meet and a silent understanding passes between you, or when his hand accidentally brushes against yours and a shiver runs up your spine.

But despite the growing attraction, you try to remain professional. This is a job, and you're here to take pictures, not get involved with the model. But it gets harder and harder to ignore the pull you feel towards him.

Finally, as the sun starts to set, the photoshoot comes to an end. You pack up your gear, feeling a sense of both relief and disappointment that the day is over. Felix approaches you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Thanks for today," he says, his voice soft in the dim light of the studio. "I really enjoyed working with you."

You feel your cheeks flush a little at his words, and you quickly look down to adjust your camera bag.

"Yeah, no problem," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. "You were great."

He laughs softly, and you look up to meet his gaze. There's something in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter again, and for a moment, the air between you seems to crackle with electricity.

"You know," he says, taking a step closer to you, "I don't do this often, but I was wondering... would you want to grab a drink?"

You feel your heart skip a beat at his question. Part of you wants to say yes, to spend more time with him, to see where this attraction might lead. But another part of you is hesitant, reminding you that mixing business with pleasure can lead to messy complications.

"I don't know," you say, hesitating. "It's not really professional to hang out with models outside of work..."

Felix nods, respecting your concern. "Yeah, I get it. But I just... I don't know, I really enjoyed working with you today, and I thought maybe we could get to know each other better."

You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and you have to admit, you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the same. But you're not sure if it's worth potentially jeopardizing your career for a night out.

You hesitate for a moment, torn between your professional instincts and your personal desires. But in the end, the pull towards Felix is too strong to resist.

"Okay," you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt."

Felix's face lights up with a smile. "Great," he says, sounding genuinely pleased. "There's a great bar just down the street, if you're up for it?"

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as you sling your camera bag over your shoulder. "Lead the way."

As you and Felix leave the studio, the cool night air hits your face, and you can feel your heart rate quicken in anticipation of what the night might bring. You follow him down the street, the neon lights of the city casting a glow over everything.

The bar is cozy and dimly lit, with small tables and a few plush couches. It's the kind of place where people go to have intimate conversations over cocktails. Felix leads you over to a small table in the corner and pulls out a chair for you.

You take a seat, feeling a little self-conscious as Felix sits down across from you. The atmosphere is suddenly more intimate than before, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you.

"So," he says, a smile playing at the corner of his lips, "tell me a little about yourself. What made you become a photographer?"

You take a deep breath, glad for the opportunity to talk about something other than the growing tension between you. You tell him about your passion for photography and how it's always been a dream of yours to make a career out of it.

Felix listens intently, asking questions and nodding along as you speak. You can see he's genuinely interested in what you have to say, and it makes you feel seen and appreciated in a way you haven't experienced in a long time.

As the conversation continues, you find yourself opening up more and more. You tell him stories about your childhood and your family, your hopes and dreams, and your struggles and fears. And Felix reciprocates, sharing his own stories about growing up as a model and the highs and lows of the industry.

As the hours tick by, the conversation flows effortlessly, never growing stale or awkward. You find yourself becoming more and more attracted to Felix, not just because of his good looks, but because of his intelligence, his sense of humor, and the way he seems to truly see you.

Eventually, the conversation turns more personal. You talk about your relationships, past and present, and the lessons you've learned from them. Felix confesses that he's been single for a while, having grown weary of the superficial connections that often come with the modeling world.

The conversation eventually reaches a more intimate territory, as you start to talk about your own love life. You confide in him that you've also been single for a while, having been too focused on your career to make time for relationships. You share your fears of being alone, and Felix listens intently, his eyes full of understanding and empathy.

As the night wears on, the drink count starts to add up. Your inhibitions start to lower, and you find yourself feeling bolder and more carefree. You laugh louder, talk more freely, and let your guard down around Felix.

At one point, your hand brushes against his as you reach for your drink, and an electric shock passes between you. You look up and meet his gaze, and there's a spark of attraction that's impossible to ignore.

Without a word, Felix stands up and holds out his hand to you. You look at it for a moment, and then take it, allowing him to help you up from your seat. You're suddenly aware of how close he is, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils and making your head spin.

He leads you out of the bar and onto the street. The cool night air feels refreshing against your flushed skin, and you realize how tipsy you've become. You're slightly unsteady on your feet, and Felix's arm comes around your waist to support you.

You stumble a little and fall against him, your body pressing against his side. You feel the heat radiating from him, and you can hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest.

He turns to look down at you, concern etched into his features. "Are you okay?" he asks, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you.

You nod, feeling a little embarrassed by your clumsiness. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you say, trying to smile. "I just had a little too much to drink, I think."

"Come on," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "Let's get you home."

He guides you down the street, keeping his arm around your waist to help you stay upright. You find yourself leaning heavily on him, your head swimming with alcohol and the nearness of his body.

The walk seems to take forever, and you find yourself growing more and more aware of Felix's presence beside you. You can feel the warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his breath, and the strength of his body as he practically carries you through the empty streets.

Finally, you reach your apartment building. Felix leads you up the stairs to your door, and you fish your keys out of your pocket with shaking hands. As you fumble with the lock, his hand covers yours, stilling your trembling fingers.

"Here," he says, taking the keys from you. "Let me help." He unlocks the door, and together, you stumble into your apartment.

The familiar surroundings of your home seem foreign in your inebriated state. You cling to Felix's arm as he guides you through the living room and into your bedroom.

He helps you sit on the edge of the bed, his hands gently settling on your shoulders. You look up at him, your eyes bleary and unfocused. Your body feels heavy and warm, and you have to fight the urge to lean forward and bury your face against his chest.

You look up at Felix, your vision hazy but your mind clear on one thing: you want him. The alcohol has eroded any inhibitions you had left, and all you can think about is the feeling of his body against yours.

It's as if he can read your thoughts. His eyes roam over your face, taking in the flush of your skin, the slightly parted lips. He takes a step closer, his body suddenly looming over yours.

He reaches down, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your neck. You gasp at the contact, feeling a shiver run down your spine. His touch is feather-light, but it sets your senses on fire.

He leans in, his lips hovering millimeters from yours. You can feel his breath on your face, warm and slightly tinged with alcohol. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, claiming your mouth with a possessive fervor. You melt against him, your hands reaching up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer until there's no space left between you.

He pushes you back onto the bed, his body covering yours as he continues to kiss you. Your hands roam over the planes of his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his clothes. He kisses down your neck, nipping softly at the sensitive skin, and your back arches off the bed in response.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, his touch scorching hot against your skin. He kisses down your torso, his lips caressing every inch of exposed flesh. You tangle your fingers in the sheets, your breathing coming in ragged gasps.

He continues his path down your body, his hands coming to rest at the waistband of your pants. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. "Can I?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. His hands pull at the fabric of your pants, and soon they're off, tossed aside and forgotten. His lips press kisses along your thighs, moving higher and higher until they reach the edge of your underwear.

His fingers hook into the elastic, and he begins to pull them down, agonizingly slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. You lift your hips, impatient, and he chuckles, the sound muffled against your skin.

He finally pulls them off, tossing them aside to join your pants on the floor. He looks at you, his eyes taking in every inch of your body, and he lets out a low whistle. "You're even more beautiful like this," he says, his hands sliding up your thighs.

He moves back up your body, his lips trailing kisses up your stomach, your chest, your neck, until his face is level with yours once more. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

He kisses you again, his tongue delving into your mouth, and you respond hungrily, your hands wrapping around his neck to hold him close. You can feel the hard length of him against your leg, and a jolt of desire shoots through you.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your ear. "I want you," he whispers, his voice low and gravelly.

His hand moves down your body, fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the softness of your stomach, until they find the heat between your legs. You gasp, your body arching into his touch, and he chuckles again, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

He slides a finger into you, his touch gentle but insistent, and you moan, your body tensing in response. He kisses your throat, his lips scorching hot against your skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his free hand roaming over your body, worshipping every inch. "Perfect."

He adds another finger, curving them inside you, and your hips buck involuntarily. You can feel your body already growing unbearably tight, every nerve aflame with pleasure. He kisses along your collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin there, and you can feel yourself losing control, your body arching off the bed. "Felix," you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair, "please."

He looks up at you, a sly smile on his lips. "Please what?" he asks, his fingers still moving inside you, slowly and torturously. "Use your words, baby."

You whimper, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of release. "Please," you gasp, "please, I need you. Now."

His smile widens, and he withdraws his fingers. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling suddenly empty and bereft. But he's not done with you yet. He positions himself above you, his hands holding your hips firmly as he looks down into your eyes.

"Are you ready for me?" he asks, his voice quiet and full of promises. You nod, your eyes wide and filled with desire. You lift your hips, silently pleading for him to take you, to fill the emptiness within you.

He obliges, sliding into you slowly, a low moan escaping his lips. You arch against him, your body stretching to accommodate his size. He holds still for a moment, his eyes locked on yours, before he begins to move.

His movements are slow and steady, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythmic motion that has you seeing stars. You clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, and you feel yourself spiralling higher and higher.

He leans down, his lips finding your neck, and he kisses and nips at the sensitive skin there. "God, you feel so good," he says, his breath hot against your ear.

He increases his pace, his movements becoming jerky and uneven as he nears the edge. You can feel yourself clenching around him, your body tightening in anticipation. He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans, and then he's shuddering against you, his body going rigid as he spills into you.

He collapses onto you, his body sagging against yours, both of you panting and shaking with the after-effects of pleasure. He lifts his head, a sly smile on his face.

"That was incredible," he says, his voice rough. He rolls to the side, pulling you with him so that you're resting against his chest. His arms encircle you, his body warm and comforting.

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze roaming over your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You nuzzle into his chest, feeling satisfied and sated. Exhaustion is slowly creeping into your bones, and you stifle a yawn against the bare skin of his chest.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath your ear. "Tired?" he asks, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Mmhm," you reply, your eyelids drooping with sleepiness. "We should probably get some rest." He pulls the covers up and over the both of you, cocooning you in a blanket of warmth.

You fall asleep with your head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful sleep. As you descend into the sweet abyss of dreams, you feel his arms tighten around you, holding you close.

And for the first time in a long while, you sleep better than you have in months, your dreams filled with the memory of his touch, and the promise of something more.

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I really hoped you liked it this was my first time writing smut so it’s probably not that good but I tried. my masterlist is here if you wanna check out more stories.

[fromchaostocosmos]

Grew up Orthodox and Ashkenazi and the norm is for girls to have Bat Mitzvah party.

In my community growing usually her class is invited. The father and the Bat Mitzvah girl will give a speech on the Torah portion of that week.

The father will talk about the kind person he sees his daughter becoming and hopes she will be.

Hers is very much a Dvrai Torah type.

There is usually a joke about how the dad wrote the speech, a lot of girls I knew their dad's did write their speeches.

You eat, you dance.

Have big it is, how many people, where all depend on the how much money is spent.

In my community we did Bencher so there would a commemorative Bencher, I would have the blessings for after meals, and it was generally the kind that is like trifold type. It would have the English name and Hebrew name and English date and Hebrew date.

Amongst the friends of the Bat Mitzvah girl during my time is was a thing to take an empty wine bottle and put trinkets in it and a poem. And then drip colorful wax on it. And like fill it will water and cork it up.

Turn it into a shaker. Then you read the poem and present it to her, it was like huge. Don't know if it is still a thing and how many other communities did that.

Also when I had my Bat Mitzvah it was starting to take off in my community for the Bat Mitzvah girl to do like a special charity thing at her party in honor of her Bat Mitzvah.

I don't remember what I did at mine, but it is now like very much the norm where I grew up so they will pick a charity and then champion it at their party and have like an event for it at the party. As well do something for it leading up to the Bat Mitzvah itself.

Also some families will host a kiddush at their shul on the Shabbat of the week of the girl's Hebrew Birthday.

I was very excited to write my speech and spent a lot of time on it (not that I can remember any of it). I sat with a bunch of books filled with Midrashim and my dad kept offering to help and was like no thank you I want to do this myself. I only showed it to him after to get his thoughts.

I also did dairy food which was really uncommon because I prefer dairy over meat.

So I've been to like one or two very over the top parties because those families had the means for them but most of them were nothing like that.

And even the those very over the top ones are nothing like what was depicted in the movies and tv shows.

Like I wore a fancy dress and I got that dress from Gamach. So like yeah I really wish that the excitement and seriousness was what depicted.

Because yes 12 and 13 year old are going to be excited and at times childish when it comes to their Beni Mitzvah and they are going to want it be perfect, but they also take it seriously. They have an understanding of the responsibility that comes with all of this.

And that is never what is shown. And it is really frustrating and upsetting.

Different communities and different Branches will have different ways of celebrating and showing that celebration. We aren't all going to look exactly the same.

But we do all teach our children the importance and deeper meaning of what is happening. So even if there is a party because it is a Simcha our children still understand that it is not just about the party and all that comes with that. They understand that the spiritual side, the weight that comes with this new chapter of life.

And that is what is never shown, depicted, or displayed in movies and tv shows thereby giving a very superficial look at what is going and making us look extremely materialistic and twisting what is a celebration of being able to do more Mitzvot and such into being all about the base self and desires.

I'm just gonna say something, Bar/Bat/B'nai mitzvahs are a celebration, they often but not always come with an after party and depending on the means of the parents of the lucky 13 year old they can be over the top sometimes. Much like rich kids with sweet 16s or Quinceañera.

okay thats out of the way, what I wanted to say is, I'm SICK of every media depiction of a Bar/Bat Mitzvah as a 100 million dollar, biggest party on the planet celebration of conspicuous consumption. Almost ALWAYS missing the you know Bar Mitzvah itself, and again depicting Jews over and over again as INSANELY wealthy. Like not everyone, hell not MOST people's Bar Mitzvah was huge and expensive.

another thing, I know by definition no 13 year old is cool, by definition they are greasy and annoying and cringe. But EVERY depiction of a Bar/Bat Mitzvah where the boy or girl of the hour is both an awkward loser and (particularly the boys) sleazy little creeps who are trying WAY too hard to impressive with their garishly massive (and expensive) party (and how often they quote how much something costs as if a 13 year old would know or care) it just seem a little close to the old antisemitic stereotype of Jews as crass and uncouth social climbers desperately trying to use their money to buy their way into classy society and forever failing.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

By the time Lizzie heard the knock on her door, she was almost regretting inviting Lando over.

Not because she didn’t want to see him—she did. But because she was still exhausted, her limbs felt like lead, and she hadn’t had the energy to change into anything more presentable than this.

Which was how she found herself standing in front of her door, dressed in sweatpants and a vintage Ferrari hoodie that was older than both of them, trying to summon the will to care.

She pulled the door open, and there he was—Lando Norris, grinning at her like she hadn’t texted him less than 6 hours ago to say, Hey, I had a seizure, so can we not do the fancy restaurant thing?

“Hey,” he said, then his eyes dropped to her hoodie. His expression morphed into pure betrayal. “You—Lizzie.” He pointed. “Is that—is that a Ferrari hoodie?”

She crossed her arms, ignoring the amusement bubbling in her chest. “It was my dad’s.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Lando said, still staring at it like it personally offended him. “It makes it worse. It’s, like, vintage blasphemy.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes and stepped aside to let him in. “You’re in my apartment. You don’t get to insult my clothes.”

“I absolutely do.”

“You really don’t.”

"You literally live in Woking," Lando said darkly as he stepped into her apartment. "A stone throw away from the MTC!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes once more, closing the door behind him. "And I'm still a Ferrari girl at heart."

Lando groaned, shaking his head. "You're breaking my heart here, you know that?"

"Is now the time to mention that Mara is also named after Ferrari?" she asked with a grin, as he followed her into the kitchen and sat down a grocery bag on the counter.

Lando blinked. "How is Mara named after Ferrari?" he asked her.

"Well, Mara is short for Maranello," Lizzie said brightly.

Lando's mouth fell open. "You have got to be kidding me," he said, staring at her. "Your dog is named after Ferrari headquarters?"

Lizzie just smiled, not even trying to hold back her amusement. "Yep," she said, popping the p on the word.

"First the hoodie, then the dog... what's next, a Vettel tattoo?" Lando asked her with a sigh.

"I mean, I was considering it," Lizzie said, completely deadpan.

For a moment, Lando actually looked worried. "You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

Lizzie cackled, a deep, full-belly laugh. "Relax, Lando. I'm kidding."

His shoulders sagged. "You're an evil woman. An actual evil woman."

"What is even in there?" she asked with a nod to the grocery bags.

Lando smirked. “Backup nuggets.”

Lizzie frowned. “Backup nuggets?”

“In case yours suck.”

Lizzie snorted. “Wow. True trust issues.”

Lando grinned, but there was something softer behind it. She felt it when he looked at her for just a second too long.

She shoved the nuggets into the oven before he could say anything annoying about it.

"I also brought ice cream. I didn't know what you like..."

"Vanilla," she said immediately.

"Vanilla it is," he agreed. "Where's Mara by the way?"

Lizzie's eyes darted down the hallway. "She's probably passed out in the living room, honestly," she said. "Dad said she barely left my side last night, poor thing. Probably wore herself out."

Lando winced. "I can imagine. Must've been pretty freaked out, huh?"

Lizzie nodded. "She kept licking my face. Apparently they do that to wake you up when you have a seizure."

For a moment, his gaze softened, and he looked at her thoughtfully. "You don't get hurt, right? When you have a seizure, I mean."

"Generally, no," Lizzie said, "I might accidentally bite my tongue, and I'm usually sore and tired after, but I don't get hurt."

Lando nodded, but she could see the concern still lingering on his face. "But you're okay now?" he asked quietly.

Lizzie managed to bite back her smile. "I'm fine, Lando. I promise. This really is normal for me."

His head dipped. "You're sure?"

She softened, touched by the worry in his voice. "I'm sure," she said gently. "No need to look so serious, pretty boy."

“Excuse me, I’m not pretty.” He objected with a disgusted expression.

Lizzie snorted. “Yeah, you aren’t if you pull a face like that.” She shot back immediately.

“Excuse me, that’s not very nice!”

“Mate, make up your mind,” Lizzie said with a snort. “I say you are pretty, you disagree. I say you aren’t, you also disagree. What are you then?”

“I am ruggedly handsome,” he told her seriously.

She could only stare at him.

“If you somehow manage to grow a beard, then, maybe. But with that clean-shaven look you have going on right now? Not in a million years. You’re pretty, and that’s that.”

Lando's eyes widened, taken aback. "Did you just—" he spluttered. "Did you just insult my ability to grow facial hair and then go and call me pretty in the same breath?"

"I absolutely did," Lizzie said, barely able to hold back her grin. "What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?"

What she hadn't expected was for him to advance and corner her against her kitchen counter.

She froze, eyes wide, her heart suddenly thumping in her chest. Lando planted one hand on either side of the counter, caging her in.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers, expression still tinged with faux offense.

And his eyes...she could spent a whole book describing their colour and Lizzie was quite sure that it was going to fall short. Even in the dim light of her kitchen, they shifted from blue to green and back.

The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable. Lizzie's mind went completely blank, and she found herself staring at him, a flutter of nervous energy coursing through her like electricity.

Lando was so close now that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. She was suddenly hyper-aware of every nerve in her body, like this new, intimate proximity had set her senses on fire.

Lizzie wasn't even sure who moved first.

All she knew was that suddenly, his lips were on hers. The kiss started gently, almost tentatively. But something shifted in an instant.

It became hungrier, more desperate, like a dam had burst. Lizzie couldn't help herself; her arms wrapped around Lando's shoulders and pulled him closer, every part of her body pressed against his.

One of his hands threaded into her hair, angling her head to get better access, and she made a small, needy sound in the back of her throat. Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt, clutching at it as she kissed him back, dizzy with the feel of him.

Oh. 

Oh. 

Lando groaned, the sound reverberating through her. His free hand slid beneath her hoodie, seeking out the bare skin of her waist.

Her own hands moved over his back, desperate and urgent. The kiss turned hotter, less controlled as her world narrowed to this, to him, to the intoxicating feeling of his body against hers.

And then the sound of the oven timer beeped. Loudly. She jerked in his grasp, managing to make one of her cookbooks clatter down onto the floor.

A second later, Mara was barelling into the room, clearly thinking that she had had a seizure and destroyed her house.

Lizzie and Lando sprung apart, both of them flushed and more than a little breathless.

Lizzie couldn’t help it; she burst into a fit of giggles, watching Mara skid across the linoleum.

"I'm fine, Mara," she said through her laughter. Her dog whined, clearly not convinced.

Lando was looking like a deer in headlights, his cheeks flushed and his hair messed up from her fingers. He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before, and she bit her lip to keep herself from grinning like an idiot.

"We should rescue the dino nuggets," Lizzie suggested.

Lando still looked stunned. "Right - yeah - nuggets-" he said, blinking.

Lizzie chuckled and knelt down to pat Mara to reassure her. The dog was practically whining with worry, licking her face and nudging her. Lizzie gently pushed her back in an attempt to give herself some space.

"I think you traumatized my dog," she said, looking up at him with a smirk.

He scratched the back of his head, still endearingly awkward. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't exactly...thinking when..."

She just shook her head, grinning. "Maybe we should focus on rescuing those dino nuggets, don't you think, pretty boy?"

He swallowed, glancing at her briefly before nodding. "Yeah. Nuggets."

Lizzie pushed herself off the floor, giving Mara's head a final pat before she headed over to the oven. Lando joined her in the kitchen, his gaze flickering to her every other second. Lizzie took the plate from the oven, setting it down on the stove top.

"They look fine," she said, inspecting the slightly-singed edges of the nuggets. "All things considered."

Lando leaned against the counter beside her. "Great," he said, but his voice was still a little unsteady.

She shot him a sideways glance, amused by the way his gaze kept dropping to her mouth.

"Was that..." he trailed off and she watched to see a slight blush cover his cheeks.

"What?" she asked, hiding a smile. He was even more adorable when he was embarrassed.

He cleared his throat, looking vaguely flustered. "That was okay, right?"

And just like that, her own cheeks grew warm. They'd just made out in her kitchen, and now he was asking her if... if it was okay?

She studied him, taking in the pink hue on his face. There was something so vulnerable about the way he was looking at her. It was like he couldn't believe it had happened, and now he was scared he had overstepped.

"It was..." she began, only stopping to consider her words."...pretty incredible."

Relief flickered across Lando's face. "Yeah?" he said, a hint of the cocky demeanor returning. "You liked it, then?"

In response, Lizzie just rolled her eyes, pushing the plate of dino nuggets towards him to end the conversation before he could say anything else.

"Try a damn nugget."

Lando raised an eyebrow, but his smile grew even wider as he picked up a nugget from the plate. "Bossy."

She just rolled her eyes again, biting back a laugh. "Eat your nugget before I regret telling you that I liked it."

He chuckled and popped the nugget into his mouth. "Not bad," he said, still grinning.

Lizzie found herself returning the smile. He was impossible.

But then again, she thought as she looked at him, she supposed she wouldn't want him any other way.

"Let's take this to the living room," she suggested.

"So is there even more Ferrari merch there?" Lando asked her. She just rolled her eyes.

"Not Ferrari merch, no," she said drily. “I keep that in the bedroom.” Lando gave a squawk in response. She just laughed. 

Did her living room kinda look like the set of a fantasy movie had thrown up all over it? Yes. 

She had a near life size portrait of Astrid and Ciaran, the main characters of her book series hung over her fireplace, which an amazingly talented fan artist had painted and she had purchased.

Lando was staring at the portrait with something close to amusement. He turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Okay, so who is that guy, and why does he have bat wings?"

Lizzie sighed, taking a seat on the large couch that dominated the room. "That would be Ciaran. Bat wings and all."

Lando took a seat beside her, still eyeing the portrait suspiciously. "And who exactly is Ciaran supposed to be?"

"He is the Dark Prince...The Heir to the throne of the land of Kasharia," she said with a wave of her hand. "He's the love interest in the Seasons of Fate Series."

Lando's eyebrows shot up, turning back to the portrait, studying it with more interest this time. "And the Wings are his thing, I'm guessing? Makes him the 'Dark Prince'?"

Lizzie bit her lip to keep a laugh from escaping. "Basically."

"Right, right." He was nodding now. "What about the woman, then? Blondie with the dagger?"

Lizzie found herself smiling, remembering the story behind that particular piece of art. "That would be Astrid," she said.

Lando looked like he was starting to put pieces together. He leaned back on the couch, eyes on the portrait once more. "And Astrid is, what? The princess or something?"

"She's a handmaiden of the Princess of another kingdom he's supposed to marry," she explained with a wave of her hand. "She ends up married to Ciaran instead."

Lando was nodding along as Lizzie described it, a look of fascination on his face. "Oh, so it's like one of those forbidden romance deals, huh?" he asked, sounding surprisingly invested.

"In a sense, yeah," she agreed, finding herself amused by his interest. "You seem surprisingly interested in this, considering you thought the wings were over the top a minute ago."

Lando shot her a look, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, I can appreciate a good love story, can't I? Besides, million of people adore your books. There must be something pretty special about them."

Lizzie felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. It still surprised her, at times, how much her books meant to people.

Lizzie felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. It still surprised her, at times, how much her books meant to people.

"I don't know about that, but people seem to enjoy them," she said lightly. "Still thinking you are going to pick one up?" she teased him with a grin.

"It’s probably gonna take me two months to get through the first book, between my schedule and my dyslexia, but the bat wings have totally sold it," Lando told her seriously.

She couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. The idea of Lando, who was about as far from a fantasy fan as you could get, actually trying to read one of her books was too absurd. "You are absolutely not going to read one of my books," she said, grinning.

"Hey, I could!" he objected with mock offense. "Don't underestimate me."

Lizzie shook her head, still laughing. "I'm not underestimating you. But let's be honest, you've got better things to do with your time than read about bat winged princes and handmaiden."

"Don't you have better things to do than too watch 20 men in their cars drive around in wobbly circles?" he shot right back. "You created these books. You poured your time and energy into them. I don't think there are many things that are more important than that." 

Lizzie fell silent, taken off guard by his words. He had a point, she thought.

"I suppose you have a point there," she admitted quietly.

Lando seemed pleased with himself, his cocky demeanor falling back into place. "See? I do have some smarts in there."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "You are insufferable, you know that? Besides, what's with your job," she teased him. "Isn't Miami coming up?"

Lando just snorted. "Yeah, we are all looking forward to hear the Dutch national anthem. Again."

Lizzie chuckled, picturing the familiar sight of the podium at a Grand Prix - the winning driver and the Dutch and Austrian anthems playing. "You are so dramatic. Maybe you'll win in Miami."

He gave her a look, his expression clearly communicating that he thought her words were ridiculous. "Uh-huh. You obviously don't know my luck. Second place is basically my second name."

Lizzie laughed, finding his complaining endearing despite herself. "You sound like Mara when I have a treat, but don't give it to her. Stop whining. Second place is still impressive as all hell, you know that right?"

Mara perked up at the mention of her name and took that moment to jump up on the couch, and once again, not caring at all about personal space, just drape herself all over Lando.

Lando looked startled, his gaze flying down to where Mara was settling onto his lap. "Uh..." he said, his voice full of confusion.

Lizzie tried not to crack a smile at the way he looked like he'd never encountered a dog before. Mara, meanwhile, looked incredibly pleased with herself.

Lando looked up at Lizzie, his expression a comical mix of disbelief and alarm. "What...what is she doing?" he asked, clearly bewildered.

Lizzie couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing. "She likes you," she managed to say through her mirth. "Clearly a woman of excellent taste."

Lando gave her a dubious look, clearly not sure if he was being insulted or not. Then Mara shifted in his lap and let out a happy sigh, and he looked back down at her. Lizzie could see the exact moment he melted. No man was immune to dogs.

"I'll go against my core beliefs and root for the ugly orange car with your number on it if you promise me that you'll believe that you have a chance of winning."

Lando shot her a look, a little surprised at her request. Then his familiar cocky smirk spread across his face.

"You'll root for papaya? Over Ferrari?"

Lizzie just nodded. "As long as that big ego of yours lets you believe you can win," she said dryly.

[muletia]

GOD I am going stupid going crazy for obsessed Smokescreen and the idea of him plucking you off the streets out of fomo from not having a human partner

Little soilder boy be falling head over heels in love at first sight, practically prancing back to base with you in snuggly in his driver's seat <3 yapping away about how excited he is to show you off to the autobots. They're gonna be so jealous! You're clearly like a top 10 human, you're gonna be so happy together! love me a delusional bot

Although you don't get the welcome he wanted, (I can picture them yelling at him like a dog eating something it shouldn't. "Hey what do you have!? Spit it out!") they really have no choice but to let him keep you. You know too much. Not only that they exist, but you know where the base is for Primus's sake. Dispite the scolding, Smokey is thrilled by this decision. And hey, in his defense it's not like any of the other humans asked to get involved with them. You'll come around soon enough.

hhhrrrr I am so down bad for him

delusional smokescreen my beloved

I think I wrote about this in a reply to an ask before, but hhhh I really love the concept that the main reason behind the start of your convoluted acquaintance was Smokescreen’s jealousy over not having a human partner and his own delusions about a fresh bot-human relationship.

But imagine this — you’re just existing, like, you went for a walk and had the misfortune of wandering a little too far from Jasper when suddenly, a sports car speeds past you, then abruptly stops and transforms into a giant robot and declares himself your new friend/future partner. And you don’t even have time to react before he scoops you up into the front seat, tightly straps you in, and starts yapping about your future together, how amazing it’s going to be, and all the adventures you’ll have <3 Oh, he absolutely cannot wait for your first ride (date). Smokescreen is literally dying to show you how fast and cool he can be. You’ll see, it’s going to be wonderful. What? You want to go home? But he’s taking you to your new home <3

btw, he’s 100% going to hold you under your armpits like a cat, eager to show off his new future conjunx to the rest of the bots, wearing a huge, cheerful grin; one that instantly disappears the moment Ratchet starts yelling at him for being irresponsible. lmao. But, of course, there’s no time to be sad when he has so many things to show you and tell you. You’ll see, you’ll like him soon enough — just as much as he fell hopelessly in love with you at first sight <3 (delusions deluxe)