#Absolutely hate the way I drew her hair but that’s fine

[concrete-3ater]

Forgot to post this

my girly Yuu! She’s very fun to draw so I did a bunch of doodles of her while I was in Germany

not very proud of how these look but they’re a few months old so they get a pass

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ guilty as sin ”

jason grace x fem!reader ⚡️

if there’s no such as thing as bad thoughts, why is y/n feeling so guilty? | pt. 2

⚠️ cheating, swearing, breaking girl code, make out, sexual insinuation & while i was posting this there was random lightning and thunder so took that as a sign that this was pretty good

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first thing Y/N noticed about Jason was his girlfriend. Okay, maybe that wasn't the first thing, but it was up there. Maybe the first thing she noticed was his hair, the way that sun shined around it, making his aura glow. Or maybe it was the way his eyes were so vibrant that she felt like she was drowning in the Blue Nile. Or, gods, his muscles. The way his shirt was barely able to conceal his abs. Then, his absolutely beautiful girlfriend, who surprise, surprise, was a daughter of Aphrodite.

Of course she knew she had to keep these feelings locked inside a vault. Especially at how she so easily befriended Piper, who if she knew about these feelings, would have Y/N’s head. But how was she supposed to? Whenever she saw him, basically doing nothing, her mind already had images of him flashing in her mind that she tried so desperately to flick away.

But once the feelings had gotten too intense, she had to tell someone. So she turned to the wisest person she knew, Annabeth Chase. She decided to walk to the Athena cabin after training. She found the blonde reading a book on her bed. She approached her, speaking up, “hey, can we talk?” she looked around, “privately?”

Annabeth nodded before leaving alongside Y/N. She led her to cabin 3, which was uninhabited since the disappearance of Percy.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth began.

Y/N sighed before explaining the ordeal to the girl. Excluding certain fantasies about the boy that not even Zeus himself could get her to confess.

“As a girlfriend of a guy who everyone has a crush on,” she began, seeming annoyed at her own statement, “don't act on it.”

Y/N nodded, “yeah, I could never act on it, I mean, Piper’s my friend,” she paused and looked up at the daughter of Athena, “I’m not a bad person am I?”

“There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.”

But after a few months. After they found out the memories were fake, that Jason was a Roman demigod, that there was no relationship to begin with, Y/N had the guilty hope that they would break up. But no. Instead they continued dating? She was furious, while also hating herself every second of every day. She had thought that maybe after all this time the feelings would go away. But they didn't! They wouldn't! They couldn't!

Every time she saw the two of them together, she wanted to vomit. Especially when they’d act all couple-like and kissing and hugging and standing within a ten foot radius.

One day at archery practice, she was about to shoot, when she saw the couple walking nearby. She immediately sunk into herself. She drew back her arrow, sulking, until she heard a loud, “ow, fuck!”

She looked up, realizing that she had accidentally shot the foot of the son of Apollo that had been helping her. She gasped, “oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He sat on the grass, holding onto his bleeding foot, “dont worry about it,” he hissed through the pain. A few other campers ran over to help him over to the infirmary.

She awkwardly looked around, unsure of what to do.

“What happened, Y/N?” The sound of Piper’s voice behind her caught her attention.

She paused, looking up at the blond boy before back to Piper, “I got distracted and, uhm, accidentally shot him.”

“Is he okay?” Jason questioned.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she brushed off, “a little arrow in the foot never killed anyone.”

“Achilles would beg to differ,” he remarked with a smirk. Gods, that was going to be the death of her, The way his scar curved with his mouth. She liked to imagine he got the scar in a battle to the death against a Roman beast- or whatever, she didn't really understand what happened at that camp, other than the fact that they had really hot guys.

She must have been staring for too long as Piper looked back up at her boyfriend herself, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N panicked, “I should go see if he’s okay,” she ran off to the direction of the infirmary.

“You shot someone in the foot?!”

“Annabeth, I really don't feel like talking about this right now.”

“No, Y/N,” she stood in front of Y/N, “why?”

“Jason-”

Annabeth shook her head, “he has a girlfriend.”

“I know, that’s the problem-”

“She’s not the problem, Y/N,” the girl interrupted again, “you're being so immature, you have to get over this.”

Y/N turned around to see Piper and Jason laughing about something. She looked back at Annabeth, “I’ll try.”

That next week, she had gotten a date with a son of Hermes. It was a nice date, too. A picnic on the dock during the campfire.

“I was originally born in Minnesota, but then we moved to New Hampshire-” his voice was drowned out by her thoughts. She felt so… faithful to Jason. If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow? She felt like he had written ‘mine’ on her upper thigh in her mind- “what about you?”

“Oh, I’ve never been to Michigan.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I asked if you liked strawberries?”

“Oh,” she looked at the strawberry she had accidentally crushed in her hand, “yeah.”

“You don't like me, do you?”

She shook her head, “no, nothing with you. You're great, this picnic is amazing, I’m just… I am so in love with one of my best friends’ boyfriend. I’m just trying to get over him.”

“Jason?”

She looked at him, her mouth agape, “how did you…?”

“A good guess.”

She hid her face in her hands, tears welling in her eyes, “am I allowed to cry?”

He pulled her into a hug, “go talk to him.”

New advice? She’ll take it!

She stood up, “I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, promise!” she claimed before running off to the fire. Everyone was beginning to disperse, when the blond hair caught her eye. She rushed over to him, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked confused, but nodded, leading her into his cabin, “what’s up?”

“I have a huge fucking crush on you,” she blurted, “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. And I thought that if I told you, it would go away. I’m sorry.”

He stayed silent for a minute, thinking. He ran his fingers through his hair. Did everything about him have to be this fucking hot?

“I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

He shook his head, “no, I need to remind myself of that. Y/N,” he walked closer to her, taking her hands in his, “I really like you, Y/N.”

She let out a deep breath, “Jason, that doesn't help.”

“It doesn't help me either, that’s why I’ve been trying to ignore it, but,” his right hand let go of hers, finding its way to her lips, “look at you.” He slowly leaned down to kiss her. Once, twice, thrice, four- over and over again. She wasn't even sure when she was suddenly pinned to his bed as their kisses got messier. His fingers traced the skin under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine, gasping when he would zap her.

“Jase,” she breathed, “this is really bad.”

He bit her bottom lip, “I know, we shouldn't-”

She kissed him again, “no.”

He leaned back, “Y/N, we really can’t.”

“I know, I know,” she heavily breathed, “but what are you saying?”

He stood up, forcing his glasses back on, “I need to go talk to Piper,” he grabbed her hand, helping her up, “go back to your cabin, let’s just forget about this.”

“No.”

“Y/N, please, we can talk some other time, but please, just go for now.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes, “right, okay,” she followed behind as he walked to the door, opening it for her. She looked up at him, “goodnight, Jason.”

He gently touched her arm, “goodnight.”

She walked out feeling shame and guilt fill her body. She felt it in all her limbs, making it hard for her to walk, feeling pulled down by her emotions, she wondered, without ever touching his skin, how could I be guilty as sin?

[mangosrar]

Middle game.

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

an: just because it’s more than 1 part i decided to use a name rather than y/n. i hope y’all like her 🤍

warnings: suggestive, angst, idk read it or don’t.

more parts coming soon !!!

pt2 here ‘tough guy jasper’

Waking up, he saw her back. The small and shallow ups and downs of it, her breaths washing in and out of her body like the most tranquil ocean waves. Never had the dip of a spine been so beautiful. But then again, it was no surprise that she was the one to show him there was beauty in absolutely everything, even the small of a back of a girl you love, rhythmically moving up and down, keeping her body grounded to the bed so her dreams couldn’t lift her away. He traced his finger down the length of her spine, noticing the hairs on her back stand on end as he awoke each individual nerve. She nuzzled her face into the pillow, letting out a small hum. He drew his hand back, immediately missing the warm sparks she had sent through his finger, his hand, his entire body.

Turning over, she was faced with a sleepy Chris lying on his back. His hair was messy and his chest was bare. He looked so soft she couldn’t help but smile, running a hand down the side of his face and resting on his chest. She loved times like this, the event of the night before evident in the marks on his neck and chest, and probably her own, the warm sun shining softly through the window reflecting the mellow aptmnosphere. The only thing on her mind being Chris. And Jasper.

Jasper.

"FUCK" Her face fell and she shot up from her lying position to a sitting one, pulling the sheets up to cover her bare chest, snatching her phone off the night stand to see numerous missed calls from Jasper and many more unanswered texts.

It was now her turn to run a hand down the side of her own face as she sprung out of bed and desperately started getting dressed.

Chris on the other hand was not so panicked. "You know, if you just told your ass hat of a boyfriend i make you come more than he does, you wouldnt have to pull a muscle every time you get out of my bed." He was now lying on his side, head proped up by his arm. A smug lazy smirk on his face.

"Yeah well if you told youre bimbo of a girlfriend im on top of you more than she is, i wouldn’t be getting out of your bed." Buttoning up her jeans, she faced him with her head tilted, and a srcastic smile plastered on her face.

"We both know thats not true Victoria." He stated matter of factly. Her face grimiced at the use of her full name. "I hate when you called me that." Now pulling her shirt over her head.

Chris pulls himself out of bed and slowls pads his way over to where shes standing, stopping short just a few inches infront of her, one hand resting loosley on his hip. "What would you prefer me to call you? Baby, love, sweetheart, angel, mine? Theres plenty of options." His hands were now resting on her waist, pulling her closer to him, His face leaning down inches away from hers, his lips almost brushing against her own.

She knew the game he was playing, in the time her and Chris have been like this she had studdied him. He worked her meticulously, knowing what buttons to push and when to push them. She was small and delicate. A single gardenrose. He picked her from the earth and stripped her of her thorns and held her in his hands, ever so gently to avoid creasing her petals, ever so softly as to not wakening her stem. He displayed her on a vase and placed it on the main peace to be gazed upon. Admired. Never to be touched. Never to be spoiled. Sitting in the confined of her glass dome. Not a single petal out of place. The picture of perfection.

She wanted to give in so bad, and his sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his waist and the lack of a shirt were seriously gnawing away at her self control.

"Rue is fine." She snapped and pushed him away, grabbing her bag and phone before making a bee line to his bedroom door.

Chris huffed out a laugh through his nose, dropping his head and placing both hands on his hips. "Same time tonight?" His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, that infuriating smirk still on his face.

"Dont count on it" Rue flung open his bedroom door and made her way to the front door of the house, not even turning back to look at him when she spoke.

"You know i will, sweetheart!" She heard him shout. She couldnt help but roll her eyes, Shaking her head from side to side in annoyance and dissapointment in her self. Chris and Rue hadn’t always been like this. Up until a few long few months ago, it was nothing but pure innocent freindship. Chris always says he dont remember how the pair came to have this complicated 'will they wont they' relationship, but Rue remembers every intricate detail of the breaking point. She remebers his face, his words, his tone, his hands. There was not one single thing she had missed and hadn’t stored away for later use.

February 2023

Neither of them were sure how they ended up in this situation. All that was intended was a smoke sesh after the two of them left a party and went back to his place, leaving their freinds to carry on drinking, but there she was on Chris’s lap, fighting the urge to rock her hips against his while he was confessing his undying love for her.

There was a heavy silence, and the distinct inpression of the walls felt like they were trembling at the tone of his voice.

“It’s kind of like chess. I like to think long before making decisions, I plan it out. But this isnt a matter of logic, quite honestly… It’s like, I don’t know if I should take the risk and move my king out in the open field, or if I should hold him back and keep him protected. What if I can’t back out and I’m cornered and I lose?” Rue honeslty had no fucking clue what he was talking about, the poor girl was so faded, all she could focus on was his hands on her hips.

"I think its better to take the risk than to never know at all..." Her voice was so soft it ignited something within him, a fire only her body could snuff out.

And now 8 rocky and complicated months later, Chris still hadn’t taken the risk, he hasn’t moved his king out into the open feild, but...he might be cornered and he definitely can’t back out.

EEEEK POOKIES IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS !!!!!

i’m pretty sure there’s gonna be another 2 maybe 3 parts so stay tuned!!! love bee 🫶

@christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @sturniolostvrs @soursturniolo @urmyslxt @jcwrites-blog @sturnphilia @sssturniolofart @cupidtoast @lividnity @sukiwaterhousestan @kitaysworld @freshlovehacker @soursturniolo

[mxqdii]

cardigan - m.s

pairings: matt sturniolo x reader

summary: cardigan by taylor swift lyrics as matt and readers relationship (idk how to explain just read it)

warning(s): angst, fluff, some sad stuff.

not proofread

and when i felt like i was an old cardigan, under someones bed. you put me on and said i was your favorite.

i sit in my room muffling my sobs as i hear footsteps coming towards the door.

i hear three light knocks along with matts soft voice

"y/n? are you okay?" he asks and i quickly wipe my tears and clear my throat.

"yeah, yeah i'm fine." i croak out and the door slightly opens, the sight of matt filling my eyes with more tears

he sits down on the bed next to me wiping my tears as they fall

"what happened? talk to me." he says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"i'm no ones favorite person, i know that sounds stupid i just-" you ramble on before getting interrupted.

"you're my favorite person"

a friend to all, is a friend to none, chase two girls, loose the one.

im sitting at home when i get a text from nick saying to come to a movie with him.

i groan, feeling all comfortable in my spot on the couch when i feel my phone vibrate again.

"come on, ill pay if you drive" the text says.

i agree and get ready, pulling up to the triplets house and opening the unlocked door.

nick comes downstairs and i pause

"oh! i almost forgot, i have to get my sweater back from matt, i left it here last time" i say, walking upstairs to matts room.

i forget to knock and just open the door, seeing what was about to be a kiss between matt and some other girl.

matt jumps at the sight of me and tears fill my eyes

"what the fuck matt??" i yell

"its not what it looks like!" he says and i laugh as the tears roll down my cheek

"ohh okay, enlighten me then." i snap back and he looks down to the floor

"i just- i wanted to be sure.." he mumbles

"what?" i say, fidgeting with my rings.

"i'm just- i'm being a friend okay y/n!? i comfort you when you're upset don't i?" he explains

"okay then, tell me you feel absolutely nothing for her then, tell me i'm the only girl you like" i protest, waiting for his response

he stays silent, looking down, which is all of an answer that i need from him.

"you've just lost me matt, goodbye."

but i knew you, playing hide and seek and giving me your weekends.

i sit at the table amongst my friends, them all engaging in the conversation.

meanwhile, i'm looking at old pictures and videos of me and matt, remembering what we had.

the adrenaline, the laughter, the love.

tears brim my eyes but i push them back, not wanting to burst out crying in the middle of lunch.

i come across a video of me and matt trying not to laugh while hiding from chris and nick.

i smile as a tear falls, remembering our movie nights every weekend, our date to the aquarium, everything.

i don't wanna miss him, but how could i not?

you drew stars around my scars, but now im bleeding.

when things got rough, matt was always there. he was the one telling me it was alright, the one who got me through it all, even if it was silly little things.

"no way! i am not going" i protest and matt laughs

"y/n, you have to." he says, grabbing my hand

ive hated going to the doctor since i was little,

(which matt is very aware of.)

sadly he still wants me to go even though im begging him not to make me

(we both know he'll make me go)

"listen, i know you dont like going, but i'll be there the whole time okay? plus it's this appointment and then one more next month, and thats it."

i sigh in defeat, knowing i can't be upset when he makes it all better.

"fine but you're coming to the next one too." i say and he laughs

"its already in my calender" he says with a smile

i stare at the reminder on my phone about tomorrow's doctors appointment, remembering how matt promised he'd go to it with me.

but that was last month, and things were different then.

i feel tears fall down my face, remembering how much better things were with matt.

i go on messages and click on matts contact, debating on calling him.

i groan, putting my phone back in my pocket, driving to the appointment.

but i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss, i knew you'd haunt all of my what if's

its been 2 months since everything, and me and matt have been texting a little bit since, thing's aren't the same, they never will be.

it'll never be like how it used to.

"matt! stop!" i say laughing

"get off!" i yell with laughter

if someone were to walk in right now, they'd see two lovestruck teenagers in matts bed.

he's currently tickling me to death and attacking me with kisses.

and even though i'm telling him to stop, in this moment, i feel like i've never been happier.

he stops his actions and his face hovers above mine, his eyes flickering to my lips

i smile, and he kisses me softy.

a kiss filled with love and passion, a kiss i'll never forget.

i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired

me and nick have been on call for a while and somehow the topic stumbled on to matt and the girl i walked in on him with

"yeah i think matt's tired of her or something, me and chris don't really like her either" he says and my eyes widen

"what do you mean he's tired of her?" i ask

"well, he used to be more excited around her but now the most i see him smiling is when he's texting you"

nick says and my heart flutters

i can't go back to matt, not after what he did.

but i do really miss him, and i know he misses me too.

"you should start talking to him more, i know he really hurt you after what he did but i think he's truly changed, he seems just- i dont know- different." nick rambles on

"i dont know nick... after what he did, if he's really changed, he's gonna have to prove it to me." i say.

i knew you'd come back to me.

"happy birthday to y/n, happy birthday to you!" the party sings and i blow out my candles

i am happy, but i can't help but feel like somethings missing.

all my friends and family are here, everyone i know and love, everyone except matt.

i feel sadness fill my thoughts for a moment but brush it off, i can't be sad right now, not here, not today.

i watch as everyone encourages me to open gifts, agreeing while sitting down around the pile of presants.

i open them, listening to the chatter around me and the rain pouring from outside, opening all but 1.

"who's this one from?" i ask, laughing at the handwriting, but nobody answers.

i look around at everyone as they stay silent, making me look down at the writing again, instantly remembering that only matt writes his T's like that.

i smile, unwrapping the gift.

my eyes widen at the sight, its a necklace i said i wanted last year.

he remembered.

a smile, observing it, when suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

i look around, confused because everyone was already here, but still getting up to open the door.

i widen my eyes at the sight of matt, soaking wet, drenched by the rain.

"listen, i'm sorry, truly y/n. i was so fucked up for leading you on like that and then just throwing it all away, it's you y/n it's always been you. you're the one for me, and i know i messed up but i can't sit at home re-reading our texts and watching our old videos, i want you back- please i- i need you back." he says, voice hoarse from crying, tears streaming down his face.

"i-" i try to find the words to respond, but can't

i step out onto the porch where he was standing, letting the rain drench me as well.

pulling matt in, kissing him.

a kiss that will forevermore top any other kiss.

a kiss filled with need and desire, a desire to just be close to eachother again.

we pull away after what feels like forever, and he places his forhead against mine.

"you're always gonna be my favorite"

[merlinsbbeard]

Hi! If accepting prompts/drabbles, here’s one:

Jily prompt:

*giggles* “never realized how soft your hair is, James love!”

���Lily! You are embarrassing me in front of other students!”

“Pff.. as if you haven’t embarrassed me for the last five years with those cheesy pick up lines.”

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He wasn’t even trying to make it happen. It was an accident. For once, it truly was an accident. In fact, if James had done it intentionally, it probably would’ve been the best prank he’d pulled all year. (Except for the rats, of course. Nothing ever could beat the rats.) But here it was, his greatest mistake: Lily Evans was absolutely in love with him.

He glanced down at their hands. Their fingers were intertwined, arms swinging as they walked down the corridor. He could feel countless curious looks falling on him. He hastened his pace.

‘Why are we going so fast?’ Lily giggled along behind him.

‘Because we need to get to the Hospital Wing.’

Lily gasped and halted in the middle of the corridor, yanking James, too, to a standstill. ‘Is something wrong? Are you hurt?’ she asked, reaching up to turn his head this way and that, searching him for injury.

‘I’m fine, Lily. It’s you who’s hurt.’

‘Me?’ Lily frowned, her hands linking behind James’s neck.

‘Yes, you——’

‘I’ve never realised how soft your hair is,’ she said, her fingers working their way into his dark locks.

James fought not to lean into her touch and instead gently pulled her hands away.

‘No!’ Lily whined, dragging out the vowel.

‘Lily,’ James said.

Lily avoided his gaze.

James tried her name again, and when she still did not respond, he settled with: ‘Lily, love.’

‘Yes?’ she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

‘You’re embarrassing yourself, love,’ he whispered to her.

Lily rolled her eyes, blatantly ignoring the funny looks her fellow students were giving her. She snorted. ‘As if you haven’t embarrassed yourself over these past five years with all your cheesy pickup lines.’

James urged her to keep walking with a tug on her hand. They were only two corners away from the Hospital Wing.

‘No!’ she wrenched away. ‘You must know how horrible those lines were. I mean, “Have you got a map, because I’m lost in your eyes?" Come on, James—’

‘If you’re not going to walk, I’m going to carry you.’

‘—“Your lips look lonely. Would they like to meet mine?”—’

‘You’ve got three seconds.’

‘—and my personal least-favourite: “Do you play quidditch? Because you look like a Keeper—’

James sighed and swept her up into his arms, carrying her bridal-style down the corridor.

‘—because you’d known me for four years at that point,’ Lily continued as if she hadn’t just been swept off her feet (in fact, her hands had already found their way behind his neck again), ‘so you knew perfectly that I hate flying.’

‘Yes, I’m a horribly embarrassing boyfriend.’

‘With horrible pickup lines.’

‘With horrible pickup lines,’ James conceded.

At last, they had reached the Hospital Wing. James pushed through the heavy, wooden doors with his back and was immediately hit with the familiar, sanitary smell.

‘Oh, Miss Evans,’ Madam Pomfrey said as she bustled over to the pair, ‘whatever has happened?’ She ushered James to put Lily down in the nearest cot.

‘Nothing,’ Lily chirped, ‘I’m perfectly fine.’

‘She drank a love potion,’ James whispered to the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey frowned and instructed Lily to stay in the cot. She then drew the privacy curtain around the girl with a flick of her wand and started towards her office.

‘Madam Pomfrey, you must know I didn’t drug her or anything,’ James said, trailing behind the determined Mediwitch.

‘I should hope not, Potter. Nevertheless, love potions are strictly forbidden. As Head Boy, you should know this by now.’

‘I do!’ James said.

Madam Pomfrey strode into her office, and James hovered by the doorway as she began rifling through her storage cabinet.

‘Lily’s just been helping me get my Potions grades up this year and I’ve been getting a lot better, so I wanted to try brewing a love potion as a challenge. It’s meant to be really difficult to get right?’

‘It is difficult,’ Madam Pomfrey said, plucking a bottle of clear liquid from the back of a tall shelf and locking the cabinet again. ‘And if it weren’t for your reckless disregard for the school rules, I would commend you for managing to brew it without killing anyone.’

James flushed and followed her back to Lily’s cot, where she dosed the girl with a few drops of the liquid onto a reluctant tongue.

‘Miss Evans, what on Earth were you thinking testing a student’s potion on yourself?’ said as soon as Lily's lovestruck expression cleared.

Lily's face immediately took on an embarrassed shade of red, and she apologised hastily.

‘I expect that from now on you’ll leave the assessment of amateur-ly brewed potions to Potions Masters such as Professor Slughorn?’

‘Yes, Madam Pomfrey,’ Lily said, which James echoed. Their eyes were stuck to the floor like a chewed piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.

‘Right. Off you go, the both of you.’

The pair didn’t take their time to leave, quickly scuttling out of the wing and along the corridor.

‘You pig! You actually let me try it,’ Lily said, whacking James’s arm.

James rubbed his smarted skin. ‘There’s no stopping you once you set your mind on something, you know that.’

Lily huffed. ‘Well, you could have at least tried.’

‘You’re my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I want you to love me?’ James said impishly.

Lily rolled her eyes. ‘At least it wasn’t very potent.’

James’s eyes widened slightly. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘Why? Did I do something?’

James snickered and hastened his pace.

Lily hurried after him. ‘What happened? Tell me.’

‘Nothing, I swear.’

‘James Fleamont Potter if you don’t tell me what happened this instant——’

James skidded to a halt and swivelled around to face Lily with a grin. ‘Do you really want to know? Because it’s super embarrassing.’

Lily scoffed. ‘Nothing could be as embarrassing as those awful pickup lines you used to say.’

‘I happen to like those lines. I think they’re funny.’

‘You would.’

James quirked his brow. ‘You think I’m funny too.’

‘I do.’ Lily grinned and placed a kiss on his lips, then grabbed his hand and pulled him up the corridor, swinging their arms in between them as they walked.

James looked over to her as they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait and slowed to a halt. ‘It’s good to have you back, love.’

Lily smiled back at him. ‘It’s good to be back.’

James brought his hand up to cup her cheek as he slowly leaned in to kiss her.

‘Are you coming inside? Or are you going to waste my time standing around all afternoon. I have places to be you know,’ the Fat Lady piped, crossing her arms and looking down at the pair.

Embarrassment graced Lily’s cheeks again and she muttered the password, climbing through the portrait hole as soon as it opened up. The noise spilled out instantly; the common room was filled with students who were unwinding after a long day of studying.

‘Well, I better get back to it. I’m so behind on Transfiguration, so I don’t think we’ll have time for more Potions tonight,’ Lily said when James clambered out of the hole behind her.

‘That’s fine,’ James said. ‘The boys want to start planning a big, end-of-exam celebration tonight anyway.’

Lily quirked one thin brow. ‘Celebration? Or…’

‘Something of a prank.’ James smirked. ‘Perhaps.’

Lily rolled her eyes affectionately. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’

‘I wouldn’t want you to.’ He pulled her into a short hug. ‘Good luck with studying,’ he said into her hair, then planted a kiss on the same spot. Then they parted and began treading up the stairs to their respective dormitories.

Sure, dosing a student with a home-brewed potion probably was a bad idea, James thought as he opened up the door to find Sirius, Remus and Peter already on the floor, piled around a piece of scribbled-on parchment, but perhaps there could be an element?

[zentriii]

Dating your enemies sibling

SakuAtsu or OsaSuna (you decide cause I can’t lol)

sakuatsu it is :D

Kiyoomi stretches languidly on her bed. She’s got the day off today and finally has a moment for herself after finishing up her chores. All she wants to do is watch anime with her girlfriend until it’s time for lunch.

“Omi-chan!” Atsumu singsongs, walking out of her bathroom in nothing but shorts and a tank top. Kiyoomi pretends like she can’t see her tits through it and rolls onto her stomach with a groan. She’d rather stare shamelessly, but Atsumu’s ruthless with her teasing and they’ve already had to change her bedsheets once today.

Atsumu drops down and plasters herself over Kiyoomi’s back, undoubtedly pouting at Kiyoomi lack of affection.

“Ugh you’re all wet, did you even dry yourself off?” Kiyoomi wreathes under Atsumu, hoping that there isn’t an Atsumu-shaped water stain across her back.

“Course I did,” Atsumu squawks. “Sides I wanted to ask ya-”

“No.” Kiyoomi cuts her off. Atsumu’s been asking her for the same thing all day- impressive given that the day’s not even half over- but her answer isn’t changing. Kiyoomi does not want to go to Osamu’s housewarming party next week.

A part of her is proud that she was able to afford her own home, that Onigiri Miya’s become a successful chain. But every other part of her is still a first year university student and unable to process her embarrassment and let go of petty resentment.

If Kiyoomi doesn’t think about it, it doesn’t matter.

“Pleaseee,” Atsumu whines softly in her ear.

Kiyoomi flips them over and straddles Atsumu’s lap before Atsumu can clock how off kilter that left her. It’s a last ditch attempt of changing the topic, but she takes advantage of the towel Atsumu dropped on their bed and works it through her hair.

She tsks. Atsumu’s a filthy liar; her hair’s absolutely not been dried.

It’s painfully unfair how healthy it is with the way she takes care of her hair. Which is to say, Atsumu does not. Hasn’t even heard of the concept. Kiyoomi hates her a little for it. Atsumu won the genetic lottery with naturally thick hair and she doesn’t even know it.

Kiyoomi doesn’t realize when Atsumu wraps a hand around her waist until she squeezes gently. It’s an Atsumu-thing: fiddling with whatever’s in her hands. Kiyoomi wonders for a moment if there’s anyone else in the fucking world whose lap she could sit so comfortably in.

“Fine,” she sighs.

If Kiyoomi can’t go her whole life closing her eyes to everything she doesn’t like, she can at least hold Atsumu’s hand about it. Acquiescing isn’t so hard if she’s not alone.

“Really?” Atsumu perks up, light dancing in her eyes. Kiyoomi’s just a girl- how could she ever not feel like she’s at the top of the world with Atsumu looking at her like this?

Kiyoomi’s still Kiyoomi though, for better and for worse. She’s not throwing herself into the deep end without an out. “I’m not staying the whole time- you can if you want but I’m going to leave early.”

Atsumu’s got mischief in her eyes and Kiyoomi already know she’s already worked her way under the lines she just drew. “Then let’s go to Samu’s for lunch today.”

What.

Atsumu must read the disgust-slash-confusion off her face because she immediately goes to sell her point. “If ya don’t wanna come to dinner with everyone, we can just crash at her store. What’s she gonna do? Kick two payin’ customers out?

Kiyoomi wants to dig her nails under Atsumu’s skin and rip the smirk off her face. She’s been got and knowing her, Atsumu’s only gonna keep pushing.

They’re too similar for her to not.

She'd rather deal with Osamu without being in front of the rest of Atsumu's family though so Kiyoomi snorts, “You’re on being-a-menace duty.”

“That’s just my everyday babe,” Atsumu winks horribly. She looks ridiculous and Kiyoomi will never tell her that. She keeps her girlfriend’s goofiness close to her heart. It might be an open secret between their friends, but she’s the one who gets to see it everyday.

There’s only threads of hope that today won’t be a shitshow of petty and snide comments between her and Osamu but at least Atsumu can step in before they can go too far. That’s a hope Kiyoomi can count on at the very least.

“Alright, let’s go now.” Kiyoomi abandons her comfortable seat in favour of looting through Atsumu’s clothes for one of her hoodies.

Atsumu groans and flops onto her back dramatically. “Now?”

“Yes now. I don’t want to deal with the lunch rush that’ll come later. Get your lazy ass up.”

“Yer cruel so Omi-Omi,” Atsumu whines as she gets up anyways.

“Are you finally realizing?” Kiyoomi teases. Honestly they’re both horrible. It’s half of why they work.

Atsumu just laughs in her face.

Kiyoomi isn’t suddenly optimistic or anything, but she isn’t dreading going to Onigiri Miya’s as much. She can be mature about this.

[threerattsinatrenchcoat]

Dance

Rejoining high society in Baldur's Gate had not gone smoothly, but in the slick way that only patriars could make something go "not smoothly". Like slipping down spiked ice. The process went quickly and slowly scraped away all of Wyll's resolve.

While Wyll was still a human, regular citizens seemed to regard him with the same discomfort as a tiefling—hell-touched, but maybe not his fault. Likely not his fault. He was, after all, the Blade of the Frontiers. And Karlach had taken every opportunity to remind everyone that he saved her. Perhaps, like a tiefling, he was simply paying for an ancestor's mistake.

But here, in high society, where everything was controlled and arranged, "bad blood" was a flaw worth judging. Most of the patriars had never actually met a tiefling, despite hundreds living in their city. Wyll suspected that his peers' frosty attitudes were less about the fact that he made a deal with a devil and more that he’d been caught.

Read more on AO3, or below the cut.

Nevertheless, whenever he returned from helping Karlach in Avernus, he played his part as a dutiful son: attending soirees, debutante balls, war games and gallery openings. He learned to coordinate his hair ornaments so his horns might also look like ornaments, to temper his smile so only his most human teeth showed, to keep his eyelids heavy so in dim light the red might be mistaken for brown. Harder to learn was to watch the dances and not hope to be invited, to accept that people assumed the thoughts he voiced were fiend-tainted and to settle for spending most events seated at his table, nursing a fine wine that tasted exactly as sour and dull as any wine he could get in the Lower City.

Hardest was to do it alone.

"A dance?" asked a voice. Wyll started at the proffered hand. The invitation might mean something… had Wyll not watched the asker and friends giggling over dares, then point to him and elbow each other as they drew straws.

"No thank you," he said.

"But—"

"He said no. You will leave," a low voice growled.

Wyll found himself looking up at Minthara and Astarion. The two least likely people he expected to see here. Coming to his defense. Astarion thought he was a pathetic fool and Minthara hated him even more than her standard Drow misandry. 

"How did you get in here?" Wyll asked.

"We were invited. At least, we should have been," Astarion said, hooking his arm through Minthara's. She immediately unhooked and pushed him a half step away.

"I am a hero of the city," Minthara said. "I am owed a certain amount of respect. If not given it, I will take it."

"You might learn something from her, darling," Astarion said.

"About breaking into parties?"

"About demanding what you are due. You saved this wretched place twice, after all."

"I didn't do it for respect."

"Ugh, I forgot how you you are."

"This conversation is going nowhere," Minthara said. Without looking, she grabbed a passing courtier, looked him over, shoved him back, grabbed another one and said, "Acceptable. Congratulations, boy. You will dance with one of the slayers of the Absolute!"

"Er—" said the courtier.

"He's an amazing dancer," Astarion drawled. "And you know what they say about amazing dancers."

"I don't need—" Wyll started, but Minthara gave him a look that suggested she would blow a blood vessel if a male said no to her.

"Sorry," Wyll whispered to the courtier, joining him in a circle dance. He held his hand up and straight out, ghosting over his partners' palms as they switched and circled, so close he could feel the heat coming off each of them. None of his partners made an attempt to speak to him, although they had no problem laughing and cajoling each other. After far too much time, the loneliest circle dance in the world ended.

Astarion caught him coming off the floor and dragged him back on, his hand cool on Wyll's. "Tell me, do you waltz?"

"Not with my friends!" The waltz was a scandalous dance, newly introduced with far too much contact. Wyll had practiced it alone in his rooms, imagining a kind partner, until he was so flushed he had to take a cold shower.

"Then allow me to expand your horizons. I'll lead," Astarion said, placing his hand politely high on Wyll's waist. "You really should come to the Lower City more. Everyone is asking about you. It's quite annoying. And you never wrote me back about slaying a spotted frilled cockatrice."

"I did! I told you not to try. A cockatrice is dangerous enough. Spotted and frilled? You're going to get yourself killed. Again."

"I suppose you'll just have to help me, then."

Wyll sighed. "I suppose I will."

"It'll be good for you! Look at you, when was the last time you saw some blood?"

"I've been in the blood wars!"

"Not fiend blood. Proper blood, blood you can really sink your teeth into." Wyll groaned. Why did Astarion insist on hinting at the vampire thing in public? "When was the last time you had a good fight?"

Too long. Everything itched. His collar was too tight. His everything filled with a yearning to escape. Magic tickled under his skin. He wanted to blast something, to hold someone. Not Astarion, who would make fun of him, or Minthara, who would stab him. Someone—

Minthara appeared suddenly. "Enough, Astarion. I have found him a new partner. A first son of a dignitary."

She shoved the poor man towards Wyll.

"I'm sorry about my friend," Wyll said.

"I'm sorry she hasn't brought you a daughter," he retorted. Wyll cringed. Minthara was… better, but still not as good as she could be. "Is she using me to insult you?"

"No. That's what third sons are for."

The son-of-a-dignitary laughed, a real open laugh, not the polite titters people had been using to appease the Duke. Wyll relaxed a little. 

"Your hands are… human," said the son-of-a-dignitary. "Linnacker said as much, of course, but with all the rumors going around…"

"Tis a shame when loose tongues flap about, embarrassing themselves," Wyll said, shocked to hear an Astarion sentiment march out of his polite mouth.

"Indeed! Especially after all you've done for the city. Your friend told me of how you single handedly outwitted a devil's contract, using a fiend to gain power, then saving the city twice! And to that, I say good show."

Wyll glanced to Minthara. She raised an eyebrow, clearly not in approval that he wasn't focused on her offering.

"Thank you," he said, and the dance turned into a fine conversation, the first one he'd had in months. The dance even ended with the son-of-a-dignitary waving over his sister, who was a marvelous dancer even though she was only fourteen. They led a line dance through the center of the ballroom. Minthara looked appalled. After, he was approached by another, and another. Some clearly saw him as a curiosity, but one introduced himself as a third-son and another made a brash joke about loose tongues, a clear invitation that Wyll gracefully turned down. By the end of the session he'd collected several calling cards and been invited to a card night at an Upper City lounge.

The life that he should've had, falling neatly into his lap, with only a few helping jabs by two white-haired multi-centurions. He raised a glass to Astarion as he was pulled past by a new friend and into a circle of other guests. 

"—just anyone in," said a pinch-faced woman. "And now listen to what they're saying. Vampires, running wild in the sewers. Tieflings taking over the Lower City! One controls the entire wizard's tower. How can we trust them? The first time a fiend so much as smiles at them, they'll run us through with those horns."

Wyll, who could only wear shirts with very large collars, went still. So did his companion. Astarion, like a shark to blood—no, no, like a vampire to blood, sidled up to the conversation, grinning maniacally.

"The city's gone to shit," said a hatchet-faced man. 

"Certainly the sewers were already there," Astarion said.

"Worse now, with that spawn filth crawling out and demanding we listen to them. I swear, the petitioners line at the courthouse smelt purely of feces. No one cares about your solar allergy and liquid diet. Szarr is dead. What more do they want?"

"Food," Minthara said. "There is a basic hierarchy of needs. Spawn are not immune to it. You might utilize it."

"Fine. They can bother the living after they've proven themselves useful and handled the rats."

Her arm jerked out to the side, luckily, because she caught Astarion right as he took a step forward.

Quickly, Wyll said, "They're victims. They and the tieflings. Don't you have any compassion?"

The pinched woman said, "It's not the burdens we bear, but how loudly we choose to bear them."

"I remember earlier this year, when merchant-master Grinhold came before the council asking for a grant because the almond harvest was poor," Wyll said. Her cousin, if he wasn't mistaken.

"He was advised last year to diversify," Wyll's companion said. "Druid's have been warning of a drought for months."

"That has nothing to do with this topic," snapped the woman.

"I thought we were speaking of burdens we bear and how we ought to be quiet about it," Wyll said. Gods, Astarion had clearly possessed his tongue.

"Some of us have been mighty quiet about it," said the sharp man, giving Wyll a look.

This was everything Wyll had hated about living in the city. Why had he poked these vultures?

"If you're speaking of my—our heroics against the Absolute—"

"Oh, please," snapped the pinched woman. "I've seen a brain before. It's not intimidating, not even giant. And a handful of backwater cultist? Any idiot taken in by that couldn't be a threat."

Wyll was so aghast at her flippancy his words stuck in his throat.

"The only reason the damage was so bad was that no one did anything until it actually summoned mind flayers," scoffed the sharp man. He gave Will a look that made it clear exactly who he was speaking about. 

"And what did you do?" snapped Minthara.

"I was vacationing by the seaside, if you must know. If I had been here—"

"I was vacationing by the seaside as well," Wyll said. "I came here."

The atmosphere felt heavy. Dangerous. They were speaking about honor, now, and history, and other foolish abstracts patriars loved to duel over. Loved to start wars over.

"Do not hold yourself in such high esteem," sneered the pinched woman. "You may be the son of a Duke, but my cousin—Lamora Whimpledimple—has told me about you."

"Oh? Interesting. She came to dinner last week." Wyll smiled warmly. He really did like Lamora. A funny woman who smoked like a damp fire and cackled like a hot one. "Lamora always has the most interesting stories about the most interesting people. Interesting, too, how she never mentioned you."

Astarion's eyes went wide, mouth twisting into a nasty grin. Minthara gave a single curt nod. The music swelled.

"You dare—" choked the pinched woman, before her companion pulled her back.

"Another dance?" Minthara asked Wyll, twisting her wrist. Tucked against her leg she held an open blade, a sickly green sheen on the metal.

"A dance?" he said, giving the smallest shake of his hand in regards to the blade.

With a flick of her wrist it disappeared under the cuff on her arm. "A dance," she repeated, holding out a hand.

Finally, an escape.

"Minthara, you do not need to dance with me," he said as they stepped away.

"I know. That is why I am not."

Then he was back on the floor, away from the conversation, sinking into the music. This dance was dizzying, his partners' palms pressing against his, now too much, too warm and too loud. Everyone wanted to touch him. His palms were wet with sweat, and he tainted the entire floor until he escaped to a balcony, swallowing hard, his collar threatening to choke him.

"I didn't know you had any skill with courtly intrigue," Astarion said, appearing next to him. "You always seemed so… pleasant. I must say, watching you cut with that sharp wit was a delight."

"I am good at many kinds of dances. I hate it," Wyll said. "The words are said and I cannot take them back. Everyone will remember this."

"Remember not to insult you."

"Remember that I would stoop to petty insults. I'm not that kind of person!"

For a moment, everything went quiet, then Astarion's cool, light hand alighted on his shoulder. "Defending yourself isn't being cruel."

"I didn't defend myself. I attacked both of them!"

"Some people will never stop until you show them you are not afraid to hurt them. Cheer up, Wyll. It could have been worse."

"How? Lamora Whimpledimple will hear of this."

"Yes, the woman hiring me to handle her little cockatrice problem. She will hear that you had a verbal spar with her cousin that she doesn't like and think, 'That lovely man who killed that spotted frilled cockatrice? He would never!' and continue hating her cousin. No, worse would be Lamora Whimpledimple getting news that her cousin died in a tragic accident, twitching ungainly on the dancefloor as Drow poison taught some respect."

"Good point. Oh, no, where is Minthara?"

"Stabbing the napkin stacks. She has a theory that she can get her blade all the way to the bottom in one go. Some seamsmith is about to make bank."

Well, it wasn't even midnight. Wyll was in his fanciest dress, he'd made his way around the dance floor half a dozen times, and finally given Lamora Whimpledimple's nasty cousin a piece of his mind. There was only one thing that could make this night better.

Wyll bowed when he approached Minthara and said, "Care to join us?"

"For what?"

"I fancy a final waltz. With a cockatrice."

"Good. No party was ever made worse by introducing blood."

Astarion grinned, flashing fang with abandon as he followed the two of them into the streets and out of town. Under the moonlight, to an orchestra of crickets, ducking under clawed wings, pivoting around the talons of a beast and weaving between two partners, Wyll got one final dance.

And Lamora Whimpledimple, when she came for dinner at the end of that week, didn't mention her cousin at all.

[laylalatter]

I fucking love the MiYu rivals with benefits agenda, but for now here's smth idek how I made

SYQ x CMY

Warnings: non con (?) Idk miyeon never says anything, Degrading, edging, straps are involved

"Goodbye!!"

Miyeon waved goodbye as the van's door has been shut, the door's window rolled down and a waving chaewon with Hyeri behind her was now visible. "Goodbye unnie!!! See you on season 2!!" Chaewon smiled and waved a final goodbye as she rolled up the car window. They had just finished season 1 of hyemileeyechaepa, and to be honest, Miyeon loved the experience of living with her bestest friends. The van finally drove off, as Miyeon pulled along her luggage into her house.

Entering it, she shouted "I'm home!!!"

No response.

She pulled in her luggage and closed the door behind her. Suddenly, a hand pulled on her wrist, pushing her against the wall. "Yu-!?" A hand covered her mouth, the only thing audible from her now is muffled screams.

"Whore."

Yuqi.

Miyeon stayed quite, what the fuck? She just got home and suddenly she's getting degraded already? Not that she hated it, she loved it, it's just out of the blue. Miyeon found the perfect time to push off Yuqi, "What?" Obviously, she questions where the younger is coming from.

"Fucking whore." Yuqi continues, huh?

"What? Wh-"

"Acting confused? Fine." Yuqi pulls along Miyeon upstairs, leaving Miyeon's luggage at the door. She practically threw Miyeon to the bed, "What the fuck is your problem!? I just got home dammit!" Miyeon scolded, genuinely confused and clueless of what Yuqi was insinuating.

"Acting like you didn't fucking stick your ass out on hyemileeyechaepa?"

Oh.

She remembers now, whenever she would sit on the chairs, she would do it in a way to stick out her ass, doing it on purpose to draw the attention of her girlfriend, Yuqi, whom she knows will be watching those episodes. "I-" Yuqi grabbed Miyeon by the waist, pinning her down on the bed. "Do you even know how long I waited for me to touch you?" Yuqi drew her hand behind Miyeon, slowly moving upwards. She played with the locks of Miyeon's hair, and harshly grabbing it making the older whimper.

"Now you're here, don't expect sweet treatment, princess."

Yuqi digs into Miyeon's neck, nibbling it slightly, leaving marks. "I'll make sure you won't be able to appear publicly with these scars I'm about to give you, doll."

That's it. She's no longer a princess to Yuqi, merely a doll is what she is now.

Yuqi stood up for a moment, taking off her clothes. She then walks over to the nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the longest strap she's owned.

Approaching the latter, Miyeon feels shivers crawl throughout her veins, she knows she won't be able to walk for tomorrow because of this, but fuck, she needed her girlfriend.

She sets aside the strap and proceeds to kissing Miyeon, whilst also pulling off Miyeon's jacket, then pulling up her shirt. The kiss turned heated quickly, as Yuqi played with Miyeon's boob under her bra.

She pulled out from the kiss, finally leaning down to claim the gift she's been yearning to have. Fuck, she wanted to go ahead and fuck Miyeon already, listening to her moans as if it was gospel, such an enchanting angelic voice spewing such profanities under Yuqi's dominance, but that wouldn't be much of a punishment anymore would it?

She proceeded to unzip Miyeon's pants, pulling it down. Miyeon's already so wet, her juices staining her underwear, this isn't helping Yuqi hold back her urge. With her index and middle finger, Yuqi pulls down Miyeon's panties.

"You're already wet, such a slut like you would open her legs for anyone I bet." Yuqi loves degrading Miyeon, and she's sure Miyeon would do it anyway. She teased her clit, tapping it a few times causing Miyeon to jolt. How fucking sensitive is she?

She sits up, crawling over Miyeon, hovering over her. "No mercy, puppy." Yuqi reaches for the strap, she's lost it, she just wants to hear Miyeon's begs and to see her absolutely broken under her, she would do anything.

She carresses the tip of the strap between her folds, she doesn't have enough patience to wear it, she just wants Miyeon broken.

She inserts the tip, but takes it out. Miyeon kept whimpering to this, the small noises and quite squirming, how this was making Yuqi wet.

She catches Miyeon of guard, with a sudden shove, Miyeon taking in the full length. Cursing, Miyeon's eyes swell with tears as Yuqi begins to thrust with a fast pace. Miyeon's legs were already shaking, she's already so close but it hasn't even been 5 minutes. "I'm- I'm cu-cumming—!?" Yuqi pulls out, ruining and denying Miyeon's orgasm. "Please— please!" Miyeon tries to comply, but, of course Yuqi denies. "You aren't cumming until I allow you to, get that dump?" Yuqi fucking commands. She commands. It isn't a question, it's a fucking rule now. God, she just loves Miyeon, begging for her touch, in absolute ecstasy under Yuqi, Her expression lewd, her voice like an angel yet it's screaming profanities, all that just for Yuqi, all for Yuqi to own and have, for no one else but her.

[bl00dngh0uls]

I just wanted to ask. Why change the name of the fall to the descent? Imagine being so petty that the story you and another person created was so good that instead of making another one because it's that great you just fill in their character and rename everything. It's super copy righted if you ask me. You tried breaking her and her boyfriend up. Then called her multiple times and stepped over her boundaries yet you say it was her who you were scared if you missed a call. She tried helping you and cared for you yet you have the audacity to call it otherwise when you can't talk it out with her or for her to defend herself? I had to make a tumblr just to message you as you took off the anonymous. Those people had no right to say kill yourself and most of those other comments but it's also not right for you to create the same exact story as she put so much time into it. The character your girlfriend made is the exact same as hers was with golden wings just a different name and different hair color. The picture below is something she drew awhile back. Her family said the same thing about you that you were bad news yet she defended you and kept allowing you to come back into her life with open arms. Obviously you two cared about eachother and I hope you could at least talk because you made something beautiful together and now it's just used as a petty trophy. You two aren't bad for eachother you just have bad communication skills. If you block me that's fine but I just had to say I truly loved the fall and it's amazing what you two made.

Honestly, I find it a little ridiculous to have made a tumblr just to message me about this. It’s very adolescent, and I couldn’t imagine being so invested in something that wasn’t your business to go out of your way to message a grown ass adult about why they would place their character in a new story.

Though it doesn’t matter in any capacity, I completely trashed The Fall. Changed the name because same concept, except we’re starting over. New story, new characters, new ideas.

Imagine being told to kill yourself, being absolutely bombarded with messages all through the night, waking up to that bullshit. No fucking wonder I turned off my goddamn anons LMAO are you actually kidding me.

And another reason to not put your nose so far into others affairs, is because you actually have no idea who I am. You don’t know anything about me other than what you’ve been told. I shouldn’t have to come and defend myself for the hurt I’ve endured.

I kept hoping she’d change, as one does in an abusive relationship, and it never happened. Receiving messages from all different people over this, trying to be guilted for breaking something off that was making me mentally, and physically ill. I was so stressed everyday. Getting called aaalll throughout my day to hear her be angry about her job, be angry about people she worked with, be angry about other people succeeding in life, being angry with herself for not doing more, constantly talking about how stressed her piece of shit boyfriend makes her. How he never fucking does anything around their apartment, how he makes her feel shitty for wearing anything ‘revealing’ (oh gods forbid, wouldn’t want to look like a whore, which I was also pretty tired of her internalized, projected slut shaming), how she can’t ever do anything without him ruining it. How he’s made friends leave her life because THEY hated him.

Nothing I said seemed to appease any of these things, because how could it?? You get out of your life what you put into it, and all of that angry, jealous, immature energy she served kept her trapped. I don’t think she ever wants to actually change, she just wants to be pitied, and to be seen as someone who gives and gives and gives, but never talks about all of the mental energy she takes from others. When you’re so locked into the delusions you’ve created for yourself to justify feeling like shit and not doing a fucking thing about it, life can get pretty shitty for you. That’s what’s happening for her.

I don’t have a squeaky clean record of mental health, but I at least care enough about myself to work on things I need to. Not sit in denial, and tell people that they disgust you for bringing up that you may have some fucking issues. Just the fact that she couldn’t accept that we are no longer speaking, and will not be anymore, shows that fucking SOMETHING needs to be worked on. People that don’t care would just let you live in your own little world where you’re the epitome of mentally healthy. Well NEWS FLASH, nobody is.

Thinking she’s excluded from people struggling with mental health is laughable. Maybe if she decides to hop off her high horse, someday she can make healthy connections with others. I’m done being a dumping ground for all her bullshit, and then being absolutely TORN APART VERBALLY for having anything to say that isn’t rolling over, and accepting that I’m somehow always the only problem. Fuck that.

So, now that I’ve wasted my time, and you’ve quite obviously wasted yours, let’s just stop all of this.

If I receive anymore asks from you, I won’t be responding to them, and I will be blocking you, because I’m done. I’m ready to move on from this.

[peachymilkandcream]

Break Me Slowly|Part 14|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: Part of me has been avoiding this simply because I'm a dub watcher so I haven't seen the new episode and I've been kinda avoiding social media to not get even more spoiled than I've already been. However, degenerate Levi and Evelyn cannot wait! Also hit up my inbox I am in such a writing mood help me out!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

================================================

The candles were dimmed as the end of the day drew near. Poor sweet Levi just continually worked himself to the bone, and without his wife nearby to keep him in check he was pushing himself to the limits. His loneliness had gotten the better of him, which is exactly what Petra had hoped for, especially when she enters his office.

Immediately the smell of alcohol hits her, the whole room assaults her nose with it. Petra wasn't sure if his blushing bride new about his bad habit, granted, he had really cut down after marriage but clearly he needed a woman's touch to keep him in check. Her footsteps are silent as she creeps up to him, his head was down on the desk asleep, never had she seen him so peaceful. Her fingers caressed his cheek, trying to wake him up as softly as possible.

Being the light sleeper he always was Levi woke easily, stretching to loosen his shoulders. Petra was shocked to see him in this state, Levi prided himself in being well kept and professional. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, his dark circles more prominent. Stubble lined his jawline, a rare occurrence for the man who hated facial hair since he deemed it "unhygienic". His clothes were wrinkled and he stunk of liquor. What had happened to the Captain she knew and loved? How could one woman reduce him to such a sad state? Rage burned within her as she thought about how much Levi had suffered since Evelyn left.

"Oh, Petra, it's you. I guess I fell asleep. Don't worry I'm going home." He starts to stand when she pushes him back down into his chair, he stares at her in confusion, not expecting this. "Excuse me?"

"Oh Captain.." She laces her voice with charm and suggestive tones. "You poor thing, you look absolutely worn out..." Reaching behind him, Petra gently rubs his shoulders.

Levi frowns and twists out of her grip. "I'm fine thank you. I'll just head home and rest."

She giggles, trailing her fingers along his sleeve, working her way up to his chin and circling his ear. "You're so tense Levi, and lonely...my heart goes out to you, and I feel like I have to help..."

"I appreciate your concern Petra, but really I'm fine. It's been a rough week but I'll make it."

She pushes past him and sits on the desk in front of him, her legs parted just enough for him to see the fabric of her panties. Much to her annoyance he glances and then bounces his eyes away.

"Get off my desk." He states plainly.

She throws her head back to laugh, exaggerating it enough to try and give him the hint. He was so adorably dense sometimes he didn't even know how much she wanted him. "Come on Levi, don't be like that."

"For the last time, Captain."

Petra bites her lip. "Captain~" Her tone is sultry and she bats her eyelashes at him.

"Better. Now off my desk."

"Or what? Are you going to punish me?" Oh how does she hope he does, he seems like the type to get a kick out of that.

Levi sneers slightly, not liking her tone at all, and dressed the way she was, he should get out of here before she gets the wrong idea. "I think it's time for me to leave." He tries to be at least semi-polite, she did work hard enough for him she deserved some respect.

As he stands to leave, Petra acts immediately, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips to his. Fireworks in her head explode, her dreams coming true, his lips were even softer than she thought. Truly Evelyn didn't deserve to have this slice of heaven every day, and Petra bet she didn't even appreciate it like she should.

However all of her high hopes would come crashing down as Levi aggressively pushed her off, sending her back on the desk. The look in his eyes was different, he seemed, different. She had seen him angry before, but never with this level of rage. Face to face with his wrath she understood how some Scouts quietly transferred to the Garrison regiment after having a run in with the ruthless Captain.

"How dare you- What could have possibly possessed you in thinking it would be already to assault me like this!?"

Now she's the one scrambling for answers, a way somehow to calm him down. "You seemed really lonely, I thought I could give you some comfort-"

"Do I need your fucked up version of "comfort"?! What part of 'I'm a married man" don't you understand you stupid bitch!" His eyes were glaring with hate as he inched towards her.

Petra started to tear up, never had Levi treated her with such aggression and coldness, he had never taken it this far. What had she done to deserve this treatment after all the things she'd done for him? Evelyn had changed him, surely that was the reason why they both had started acting differently after that fucking wedding.

"You're not yourself Levi, you're just lashing out because you're needy, you haven't been the same since your wedding I thought things were going wrong-"

"You're even more stupid than I thought." He continues his advance, the veins in his hands bulging out of his skin. "I have never been better since marrying that woman. Do you hear me? The best fucking thing I ever did was decide that girl was mine. You think I could want you over her? She is perfection you scum. I want a woman who will fight me tooth and nail while I hold her down and fuck her until she looses feeling than a whining lapdog. You get that Petra? You're nothing but shit under my boot, I kept you around because you do your job well. But apparently you lack an ounce of common sense that would think I'd take your loose cunt over my wife's. The fact you thought I was low enough to be unfaithful to my wife is the highest form of an insult. You disgust me." He pushes past her. "Now get out of my way."

As he walks out of his office Petra watched him wipe his mouth with the back of sleeve and spit onto the ground. That was what he thought of her kiss, it was revolting. Little did she know all this would cause was Levi throwing his weight around so Erwin would agree to up the extraction date and bring his wife home.

Hurt, rage, grief all filled her. She knew now that any chance of having Levi was gone so long as Evelyn was alive. Part of her admired him for being so true to his marriage, but the sting of rejection was still prevalent. Lost in her own thoughts she barely recognizes the solution until it presents itself in her head again. That was it, as long as Evelyn was alive. If she fixed that problem, then it would level the playing field. That was what she had to do, eliminate the problem.

=============================================

Peace in the Braun household was shaky at best, she was one of them sure, but still an island devil, Evelyn supposed in time that would opinion would change. Although that was never the real purpose of her mission, while the surprise pregnancy had thrown a wrench into it, she still had a job to do. It wasn't about them liking her, it was about them trusting her enough to wander around and hopefully find Eren so she would at least have something to report back.

Her room was really Reiner's, him being the gentleman and offering to sleep on the floor downstairs to make sure she was comfortable. The first night was the worst since she could barely sleep, always thinking she heard Levi's footsteps on the stairs or him moving in the shadows of the dark. A good portion of the annoyance her fellow housemates felt was no doubt attributed to her screaming in the night when it felt like the shadows were reaching for her.

She was ashamed, but more often than not these nights ended with Reiner checking on her and him sleeping on the floor beside the bed by her request. Evelyn couldn't help but feel guilty, despite everything she was married, and while their marriage was hell her thoughts conflicted as far as if what she was doing was adultery. However the fear that gripped her every night soon outweighed her doubts of what Levi would think.

Truthfully, she had deluded herself into thinking that she would just never find Eren and have to remain here. While freedom was limited due to her Eldian blood at least it was existent. She was no longer imprisoned in that forsaken house, left to the scorn of the staff and Levi's whims. Her taste of freedom was precious and treasured, she hoped he never came back. If she deluded herself in this she could do the same for when the child was born, delude herself into thinking it was someone else's. Maybe she could have a half decent rest of her life.

It had now been a few weeks since Evelyn had come to Marley, she felt that if anyone, Reiner trusted her. Whether it was guilt over the past or something different she wasn't sure. She found herself in the quiet wondering what would have happened if she came back with Reiner and Bertholdt all those years ago, he had a boyish crush on her back then, he was older now, would anything have come of it? He was sweet and handsome and treated her with respect, something that was in short supply these days. When he caught her looking at him like this, he'd blush and look away, the delusion slipping more and more.

She had come to know his world, the world he grew up in, the one that told him to do the horrible things he had done. Reiner was the enemy, but she forgave him, he needed that, he so desperately needed that. When she had told him he broke down into childish sobs, desperately asking why, how could she forgive him for everything? In honesty, Evelyn had no idea how, but she did, she understood him, felt sorry for him. It seemed like it was only natural.

Reiner had trusted her with being in his home, and eventually introducing him to his closest family and comrades. Seeing the look of joy in his face when she interacted with them warmed her frozen over heart. Her delusion was stronger than ever, forgetting about the horrors awaiting her at home. Maybe this could be home, Levi gone forever, Erwin gone forever, everyone, she could be free. This ideal life, happy with someone who could really take care of her, of two who could take care of each other. They were the same, broken and naive once. They had both been punished for the sins, what was the shame in living on from that?

Evelyn forgot about her mission, she forgot about Eren, to hell with all of them. They had left her in her time of need to that monster the law called her husband. Paradis could burn to the ground for all she cared. No one rescued her, why should she rescue them? Flatten the place and Levi with it, maybe then she'd finally feel safe. So when Falco had mentioned bringing Reiner to meet an old friend of his the thought of the past coming back to haunt her never crossed her mind. She simply watched the show, blissfully oblivious to the scene just below the stage.

But when Gabi had offhandedly mentioned that they had been gone a while she felt a trickle of cold sweat on the back of her neck, that familiar fear of Levi sending chills down her spine. It was impossible, he was hundreds of miles away, hopefully rotting in a jail cell, he couldn't be here, he wouldn't be here. She was letting her paranoia get the better of her again. She was safe, nothing could hurt her, no one was coming to get her.

These were the last thoughts to cross her mind before the eruption, the sound of screams and terror, the bright lights, the gunshots. There was panic, chaos, everyone trying to run away from the fifteen meter Titan slaughtering all of them where they stood. Evelyn could only sit there and watch as she was blindly tugged along by someone she didn't care to recognize.

Dumbfounded she trudged along, eyes glued to the scene. It was when she caught the look of those eyes, those damned eyes did terror come over her. Levi's eyes met hers, recognition filling them, the way he was motioning for her, he was telling her to go to safety and he would come find her. Only as he flew off to rejoin the carnage could Evelyn recognize exactly what that chilling feeling was.

It was the feeling of her delusion shattering around her.

[akampana]

Romantic confessions dialogue prompts

3 and 25 GilxArtoria.

25. "I cannot stand you, and yet I also cannot stand to be away from you."

Gilart Modern Au.

…

"I do not appreciate being avoided, Arturia."

The chase should have begun as usual, with the new money stalking down the hall, heels harshly clacking upon the tiles closely followed by the world-renowned tycoon in a similarly rushed pace. Neither would have run, of course, but all employees would know better than to get in the blondes' way lest they be trampled in their wake. The situation occurred so often, most personnel knew well to order the unfortunate intern down to the nearest tea shop and get a chamomile brew going. Their tiny, ever-serious heiress was the shop’s most loyal customer, after all, considering every visit Gilgamesh ever made resulted in her needing a fresh cup of relaxant. 

However, as the intern would learn–cold tea in hand and a dropped jaw on his face–that routine would be broken for the very first time. Because for the very first time, Arturia did not come rushing out her door. Gilgamesh did not give chase. What greeted all the employees instead, was the chocolate color of Arturia’s dark wooden door as it calmly closed shut, locking them all out of the mysterious happenings behind it. 

“I am not…” she started, voice low enough that no gossip mongers could hope to hear. The woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, pacing the room like a fitness nut trying to get her steps in. It was doing little to help her nerves, but really, who wouldn’t be nervous when confronted with the golden-haired snob in fron of her?  “It was not my intention to avoid you, Gilgamesh.”

The man’s only reply was a raised eyebrow and a piercing look that once may have infuriated her. Instead, it made her feel like whatever she had eaten that day decided to do cartwheels in her stomach. Not the best feeling to have when faced with the global superpower that Gilgamesh was, especially when he had his arms crossed over his custom Italian suit. He quite hated getting it wrinkled. If he was willing to crease the expensive fabric, she was truly pushing all his buttons.

The sharp inhale that preceded her words did nothing to steady them. “I must apologize. I…”

Her heartbeat cut her off, the sound of her own blood booming in her ears like a brutalized festival drum. He was the worst possible person to lose her words with– damn eloquent bastard and his hifalutin vocabulary–but she had no choice. Anything she tried to voice would surely come out in a string of nonsensical syllables only comprehensible to the minds of the insane. So, she stayed silent, desperately trying to weave words together that might make some semblance of sense. The ruby eyes staring her down, however, made even that an impossible task. Wonderful. They could haunt both her dreams and her reality. Absolutely wonderful. 

His familiar footfalls drew closer till his fine leather shoes decorated her view of the drab, corporate-gray carpet. She hated those damn shoes. Those slacks. That stupid belt. He was never just dressed, always overdressed or underdressed–one more reason she should hate him, on top of the mountain of irritations he already plagued her life with.

The woman felt the older man’s finger brush the skin of her wrist, felt them twitch as they reached for her hand then change course. When she breathed, she smelt sandalwood and orange citrus–a scent she could only describe as sunny that she much associated with the foreigner. Before she knew it, his hand had journeyed up her arm and shoulder and his index finger was on her chin, lifting gently till she met his eyes. 

The practiced swat she made at his wrist came half-heartedly. He didn’t flinch. She didn’t break their gaze. She just let it melt her, hoping the businessman wouldn’t notice her quivering lip or shaking knees. 

“Do you wish for me to leave–”

“Yes.” 

Her response was immediate. Uncalculated. She’d wanted so many times to be asked that very question that her answer came out like muscle memory. A twisted wave of relief washed over her. If she could be rid of him, she would no longer have to deal with these trifling feelings. No more cold sweats. No more heat in her cheeks. No more feeling like she couldn’t breathe. 

But the very moment he took a step back, she felt fear stab through her chest like a knife. 

“No. No. I…I don’t,” she whimpered, barely pulling her bleeding heart back together when she’d just tried to break it. Her words were weak. Arturia hated sounding weak. She spent so many years in this cursed industry fashioning her tone just to be taken seriously, and here she was sounding like she’d just finished a marathon without taking a sip of water. Pathetic, and yet it was all she could manage. 

The man’s eyes flickered down to the lynchpin of Arturia Pendragon’s current state of mind: a delicate hand gripping tightly onto his palm, urging him not to take another step. He’s always wanted her to touch him like this. It seemed all Gilgamesh had ever gotten were business handshakes and the burning rejection of his advances. It almost felt like a dream. But in his dreams, it wasn’t anguish upon her countenance. In his dreams, there weren’t tears welling up in her eyes. In his dreams, she wasn’t shaking like a leaf. 

“Then what is it you want, Arturia?” he queried, drowning in suspense.

It occurred to him suddenly that he had never seen her so fragile; like if he made one wrong move, she’d break. For the first time since he’d known her, she’d let down her guard; she’d dropped the mask she’d been wearing the day she inherited this company. It wasn’t his business partner he was looking at right now. Not an investor either. It was just her–the person he knew she was, who he’d only seen glimpses of in the cracks of her facade, yet fell for all the same.  

“I don’t know,” she choked, her voice pitched high like someone had her by the neck. “I do not. I cannot understand–” a hiccup interrupted her before she could finish. Her knees went weak, and though he was there to steady her, it was to the window that she ran, swallowing stray sobs with hand over her mouth. 

“Arturia–”

“Stop. Just stop–” she protested, swatting the man away as he came up behind her, to no avail. He stood over her, hands on the glass window like her strikes meant nothing to him, and watched her breaths gradually even out. It was agony to stand there, so close yet not permitted to touch her, hold her, or offer even the slightest comfort. How could it be, that even in this vulnerable state she had him wrapped around her finger? 

“I don’t understand,” she continued in a whisper, the tightness in her throat permitting nothing else. “I know I was meant to hate you but…I cannot.”

This time it was Gilgamesh who was robbed of breath, her words freezing him solid as she locked her watery gaze with his ruby one. Suddenly the hustle and bustle of the city outside went quiet. The office floor behind the door cleared in an instant. Planes paused in their voyage. Ships stopped at the harbor. Suddenly, it was only the two in the drab office room, suspended by their feelings beneath the stars.

The man’s heart banged heavily on the walls of its cage, crying to be acknowledged. “Do not try to vex me with–” 

“I do not need you, but I do. I cannot stand you, and yet…I also cannot stand to be away from you.” she interrupted, searching his wide eyes for answers still just out of her grasp as he did the same. Her fingers were halfway to his cheek, occupying the few inches left between their lips.They were so close he could feel the heat of her skin; so close the gravity that had pulled him to her from the day they met demanded he lean in. Every word she said echoed through the crevices of his mind like a mantra, beckoning him forward til not even air dared keep them apart.  

“I was not trying to avoid you, Gil, I just–” 

Clarity. The sky above them seemed ever so vast, with galaxies dancing in a midnight space no longer stifled by clouds. All the stars aligned. All the planets moved to the beat. She learned to fly and he learned to fall, and for a moment there was no question in the world that needed an answer, no problems that needed solutions, nothing broken that needed repairs. There was just a man and a woman, finally seeing eye to eye, touching lips to lips. 

“Do not keep me from you again,” Gilgamesh whispered as they parted for breath. For the first time, there was no rebuttal, disagreement, nor complaint, because Arturia finally understood.

____

Thank you for the ask! :D

hope u are doing ok :)

-akampana

[msnihilist]

I read a post of yours before about the lack of knowledge of eroticity in ben10 fandom. you know what? You are right.

But in my defense I am from another continent in the Pizza-Mandolino country.

Okay, you know what? Fuck it, let's do this. Prepare for a VERY long, VERY biased rant about erotic works and sexuality that is entirely based on my own personal thoughts/experiences and nothing else.

Please feel free to stop reading at any time if it begins to make you uncomfortable.

Let's preface this by saying that I masturbate to fan creations. I'm an adult, I'm into kinky freak shit, I'm not going to pretend that I have a pure, intellectual reason for being passionate about smut, okay? Okay.

The Ben 10 fandom has some of the most boring, tepid, vanilla smut I've seen in a fandom in a while, which is saying a lot. I've seen more emotional and kinky shit from Miraculous Ladybug fans.

And that's fine, I guess, if that's what you get off to. I'm not here to kink shame. I just think it's a tragedy for a show like Ben 10 to give us so many different alien species and character dynamics, and then when I scroll through the fandom tag on Twitter or Rule 34, all I get is big tits, ten-year-old Gwen with a hyper-inflated ass, and footjobs.

For fuck's sake, the Ben 10 NSFW community looks like a DeviantArt gallery for The Loud House, and it sucks.

Maybe being a Homestuck fan in my teenage years spoiled me. High school is about the time when people start to really dive into their fetishes, and I was fortunate enough to be in a fandom that was absolutely drowning in sodden alien pussy, tentacle cocks, and hate sex.

I don't just mean the tentabulges were nice, though. Homestuck smut has horn play, pheromones, different anatomy headcanons, monsterfucking, fighting that dissolves into sex, and some of the most tooth-rottingly tender sex scenes ever put to the screen.

I've read a fic where Dave got eggs unwittingly shoved up his ass by an alien beast five times his size, and it drugged him with a natural aphrodisiac so that he enjoyed it. I've read a bodyswap DaveKat fic that was so filled with self-hatred and mutual loathing that it looped all the way around into being incredibly intimate and overflowing with trust. I've seen fanart of mind control, wing play, micro/macro, milking, and quite a few different art pieces that make creative use of God Tier immortality for some guro corpse-fucking. Hell, I've seen kinks that I didn't even know were a thing thanks to Homestuck.

And what does the Ben 10 fandom give me? Ben and Gwen having missionary sex. Again. I'm used to full-course meals, and now that I've switched my primary fandoms, I'm starving!

I have nothing against incest ships. I actually love them. I can't get off to porn if nothing illegal is going on, y'know? But it's become painfully obvious to me that the queer folks who drew Dave finger-fucking Dirk's decapitated neck stump are not AT ALL the same as the cishet men who are making 3D models of Gwen's bone-dry loli pussy.

It's sort of infuriating to me, personally, that the Ben 10 erotica scene is filled to the brim with people who are still salivating over the same version of Gwen that gave them their first boner twenty years ago, and who can't get off to Vulpimancers unless it's a female one with huge tits.

You know the Chaquetrix trend that started over on Twitter? It encapsulates everything I hate about current-day Ben 10 smut. It's awful. It's so painfully boring.

These fucking cretins took the concept of alien-fucking and made it BORING! It's infuriating!

I went through old-school Ben 10 smut on Rule 34. I'm talking porn that's probably older than some of the newbies in this fandom. I immediately found Grandpa Max with his hairy cock out (bear representation, fat, hairy belly and all!), Four Arms with two dicks, Grandma Verdona fucking Gwen with her hair tendrils, and Myaxx with a squid pussy that's lined with razor-sharp barbs.

So I know it's not impossible. Freaks and weirdos clearly used to populate this fandom! I have no idea what changed, where they went, who hurt them... But it deeply saddens me.

If I scroll through the Ben 10 tag on Twitter right now, I can find Grey Matter with tits, a mockery of female "Brainstorm" that's just a normal, human woman with orange skin and pointed fingers, straight people having vanilla sex (ALWAYS with ten-year-old Ben), and foot fetish posts, of course.

It fucking sucks. It really does. Where is Zs'Skayr putting his tendrils to good use? Where is Way Big fingering someone? A Vulpimancer eating someone out with their insane tongues? Ultimate Kevin having some freaky nasty sex with Gwen?

Where is the creativity?

I'm not even asking for good characterization and interesting dynamics! Just anything other than the same old shit I can find on the front page of DeviantArt. The intimacy of Kevin and Ben trusting each other enough to sleep together. The hunger of Elena wanting to consume the only thing she loves. The sheer anger that might push someone like Albedo into a fervent kiss. Anything at all!

For the love of fucking God, this fandom is so disgustingly milquetoast. If you're a freak, I'm begging you to watch this fucking show. Please. For my own sanity.

[finniestoncrane]

congrats on 1k Finnie!!! u deserve all the hype!! I’m gonna throw myself in the ring for the event, respectfully requesting number 9

a little bit about me is that I’m 4’10 (pun intended), I have brown eyes, reaaallly long curly brown hair, I wear glasses (the dano riddler kind LMAO), my fashion sense basically Bella Swan from Twilight, I’m questioning my sexuality/bordering on unlabeled so I’m fine with anyone, I’m an INTP 5w6, and a Leo (I don’t know shit about astrology lol.)

my hobbies include:

- acting, which is ironic bc I can’t stand theater kids lmao

- writing, whether it be my cringe ass fanfics, or to my feelings (or lack there of), or to the dreams I have at night, I gotta always have it documented

- watching movies, specifically horror or comedy. If I have any free time, u can GUARANTEE u that I’m going to being at home watching a movie, or at the theater with my friends. If I could legally marry my favorite movie, I would.

personality wise, I come off as very blunt and have a really dry sense of humor to everyone I meet. When I’m in my element, I can’t help but let my wit get the better of me. I am legitimately confident in my capabilities and myself. I can almost always talk my way in or out of situations. I love cracking jokes at any given moment and I always enjoy making anyone laugh, I’ve been told that I have good comedic timing so obviously, I gotta keep going with it. I also curse a lot, like I need a censor bar around my mouth at all times lol. I’m not afraid to stand up for myself or my friends and honestly, I kinda enjoy to. I absolutely value humor and friendship the most, and they are what keep me going. If I could describe myself as 5 fictional characters, I’d be Mickey Milkovich (Shameless), MJ (MCU), Ruth Langmore (Ozark), Louise Belcher (Bob’s Burgers), and Beth Harmon (The Queen’s Gambit). My positive traits are humorous, competitive, straight-forward, creative, and quick-witted

on the flip side, when I’m in a newish setting or a setting where I’m off my game/ not feeling myself, I’m ice cold, rarely speaking to anyone and if I do, it’s venomous. I tend to isolate myself and obsessively throw myself into whatever it is I need to do and just be done with it. I try to maintain a high level of professionalism and confidence and hold myself to a high standard, becoming wildly competitive and forcing myself to be better than everyone, basically faking it till I make it (and it always works). I tend to hide and bottle up my emotions, and I’m scared of/ hate being emotionally vulnerable. My negative traits are obsessive, indecisive, aggressive, sadistic, and emotionally detached

…and I just realized I went on for waaay too long lmao sorry. congrats again on 1k!!!

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: thank you!! it's funny, with this one i thought of several rogues and then suddenly it came to me in a moment of sheer inspiration and i was like "oh shit yeah that's the one" 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

i swear to you the height thing is a coincidence but i think a short couple are strong vibes. and he's a mama's boy, so the fact that your hair is long and curly like hers would probably be one of the first things that drew him in

we know he feels about glasses wearers, so... yeah

(side note: i feel you on the theatre kids one, i studied theatre at university and it made me realise i couldn't be a playwrite, because i cannot cope with actors)

ok so oswald has an absolute flair for the dramatics, and don't tell me he wouldn't make an excellent actor. you two could reenact scenes together and write your own plays or movies just for you two!

he strikes me as a diarist, so spending time together writing whatever you're writing while he catches up on his comings and goings in his little unpublished and just for him (for now) autobiography would be one of his favourite wind-down activities at the end of the day

oswald lives his entire life with main character energy and you can't convince me he didn't pick that up from obsessively watching movies about underdogs rising to the top and film noirs. he loves gore and brutality too, so a thriller or a horror would be perfect viewing material for you, and he'd definitely take you to the theatre on a date

ok so, it might be a nightmare putting the two of you together, but it could also potentially be the most fun. both of you are dry, humorous, experts in wit and sarcasm. charming enough to talk your way out of disaster, and into opportunity. together, you'd be a dynamic duo, perfect partners in crime. the confidence you would have separately and together would be insurmountable and intimidating, which oswald would find deeply romantic

little comments and sneaky jokes with the right timing are his forte too, i'm beginning to wonder if you aren't just the same person?

and the aggressive protection of yourself and others? come on, that's just him all over. and he might not swear frequently (although he might have if gotham was more risque) he does yell. a lot. and what extreme screaming match isn't complete without a few good fuck shit cock ass bastards in the mix?

speaking of friends, the loyalty and fierce protection of them would make it easy for him to trust you, which is so important to him. you're obviously a valuable asset in a friendship, and he would treat you as such

it's funny, i always think of oswald (specificalyl in gotham) as louise belcher! very much quick-witted and humorous, which you both are, and he's obviously extremely competitive, with high self-esteem and a belief he can conquer anything. he's not always straight-froward though, but that's something you can bring to the relationship that he can benefit from

he would understand the isolation and the cold attitude also though. it's a good facade to maintain when you're around new people, especially if you find it difficult to trust or open yourself up to them. a safety mechanism almost. it ties in with the holding yourself to a high-standard. he's dead set on being the king of gotham, a position he would gladly share with you if you could assist him in that professional and personable journey, which by the way, faking it till you make it? he's very familiar with it, umbrella boy to mayor after all

i doubt he'd feel the need to hide his emotions around someone like you who was so similar to him and so trustworthy, but he does that around others and wouldn't blame you for a second for trying not to be vulnerable around him, though he'd hope you'd warm up eventually

and please, your negative traits are all ones he holds in high-esteem within himself so get ready to have your ego boosted by him constantly praising you

[dutchsbigolhands]

Heart of Thorns

Chapter 2

Word count: 4k

tags: nsfw, smut, sex, bdsm, dom/sub, fingering, rope play, biting, praise, smacking/spanking, table sex

Cover page

Read on AO3

You cried horribly at the feeling of teeth sinking into the skin of your neck. You dug your nails into the back of the man nestled into the crook of your neck. He’d never bit you so hard before. You wouldn't be surprised if he drew blood.

But you didn’t care, the sharp pain only added to the intense pleasure of his cock thrusting hard and deep into you. Your heels dug into his back and your hand tugged at his curls, horribly desperate for the man over top of you.

“That’s it darling,” he praised breathlessly into your ear. You whined at his words, arching your back and pushing your chest into his, needing to be impossibly closer.

Every jut of his hips threatened to send you over the edge and crying out his name. Despite the rapid movements against your cunt, he held you gently, pushing the hair out of your face, drinking in the reactions you made to him.

But then rustling and shuffling all around you pulled you out of your thoughts. You weren’t there, no. People were gathering their things and leaving the lecture hall. Your laptop in front of you showed an open, but blank document.

Did you really miss the entire lecture?

You swiftly gathered your things and joined the hurried crowd, cursing yourself as you did. You’d been so distracted ever since that first day Dutch had taken charge, and every meeting since then only distracted you further. Somehow now, you were daydreaming so hard you were missing whole classes.

You knew this was a problem, but had no quick solution. He was your biggest money maker at the moment in your ever-increasing rent and school fees, so you could handle the distractions for now. Besides, you shared most of your classes with your closest friend.

“Mary, wait up!” You called down the hall, turning the heads of the students around you. Luckily she hadn’t gotten to far and you were able to catch up with her as she waited for you with a smile.

You always thought Mary was gorgeous. She was always well kept, standing out against the burnout students whose last problems were their appearance-you included. It was apparent that she carefully coordinated her outfits with the expensive wardrobe she owned. She made it look absolutely effortless. You always held a bit of jealousy of her, but never let it manifest. She was just lucky.

Her parents were highly successful and possessed a lot of money that Mary seemed to be free to use. You believed she was the only person in the whole university that was paying for college genuinely. In general, you were either born with money or had to find it by whatever means necessary.

“I’m going to need the notes from that lecture,” you said casually. Her dark eyebrows drew together.

“You need the notes for a class you were in?” She said with a laugh. You smiled through the heat that rose to your cheeks.

“Yeah, uhm, I may have zoned out a bit,” you said, laughing nervously back at her.

“Sure, I’ll share them with you,” she said, a playful hint in her voice. “If you tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

Your face and neck flooded with embarrassment. There was in no way in hell you could tell her. You hated to think about it, but you imagined she kept you around under the impression that you were innocent like her: that you weren’t involved in any of the shady activities that ran rampant. And you loved having her as your friend. She was perfect, almost unnervingly so. It would crush you to lose her.

So the way you made money was something she could never know.

“It’s nothing,” you lied through your teeth and she hummed at you.

“That was such a blatant lie that I’m not sure I can be mad,” she responded. “You don’t have to tell me now, but I will find out at some point, deal?” You smiled weakly at her.

“Alright, fine,” you agreed, but with no intention of actually telling her. You’d cross that bridge when you got to it.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you rushed to see what it was, expecting an email about a recent paper you’d turned in. However the text you received drained the blood from your face.

Dinner tonight, 6:30. Don’t be late darling.

You gritted your teeth then quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket. Mary wore a coy smile when you looked back at her. You could already tell this was going to be a difficult secret to keep.

“Who is it?” She teased. You swallowed, willing yourself to act natural.

“Oh no one,” you teased back with feigned innocence. Mary laughed loudly at you as you both continued on your ways.

-

Dinner was amazing as usual, his cooking still somehow surprising you. From just looking at him, you honestly wouldn’t think he’d put such care into something as trivial as food.

No matter how good it tasted, though, you were still frequently distracted by the man in front of you. He wore his usual attire topped with a deep red tie around his neck. His sleek black hair sat neatly over his head, not a strand out of place. You wondered if you’d get the chance to mess up his carefully styled hair. You wondered if you’d be able to cut yourself on how sharp his facial features were. You imagined how his stubble feels against your thigh…

As you lost yourself taking in his appearance, you found yourself meeting his piercing stare: dark eyes boring into you. Your heart leapt, not realizing how long you’d been staring. You broke the stare quickly, but still found his smirk in the corner of your eye. Luckily, that was all he made of the situation as you continued eating.

When you finished the food off your plate, you set your silverware down and gazed everywhere in the room except for him. He had a nice place, small enough to feel cozy, but not too small to feel cramped. The house seemed to be somewhat old, the decorations a bit outdated (and a bit dusty). It weirdly juxtaposed the nature of the man in front of you.

“All done dear?” He asked, standing from the table. You nodded silently at him and caught his sly expression as he took the plate from you. Your heart picked up, knowing from experience what was to come after dinner.

Dessert, you thought crudely, but you knew it wouldn’t be as sweet.

You waited impatiently in your seat as he brought your plate to the sink. You drew a shaky breath as you heard his footsteps approaching from behind you. He came around the side of you and leaned against the table. You always felt so small when he gazed down at you from over you.

“You remember the rules?” He asked simply, crossing his arms. You swallowed, hoping to clear the anxiety in your voice.

“Yes sir,” you said, the phrase becoming much too familiar on your tongue.

“Good,” he purred with a devilish smirk. He paused, giving you a moment to try to read him, to try to snuff out his plans for you. But you knew it was no avail, reading him was like reading a full length novel in a foreign language. “Get up and take off your clothes.”

The bluntness of his statement made your heart skip a beat. You hesitated, still startled by his sudden command, but did as you were told before he became too impatient. You tried not to meet Dutch’s piercing gaze as you removed your clothes. This was something you did often: removing your clothes in front of a willing audience, but something about Dutch made you shy and timid about doing so. You did your best to give him the show he seemed to want through your anxiety, though.

He let out a satisfied hum as your panties joined the rest of your clothes in the pile on the floor. He still leaned against the table, arms crossed and eyes following the shape of your body. He appeared as if he was judging a work of art, deciding if it was worth his time or not. You diverted your eyes, your face impossibly hot in the chilly room.

“Turn around darling,” he said after a moment, his voice somehow gentle despite the darkness to his gaze. “Keep your eyes on the wall.”

You turned with a shaky breath, Dutch slowly leaving your view. You didn’t need to see him to know he was still tracing over your form, you could feel it. Your hair stood on end in anticipation.

Soon, you heard him shuffle, and felt the heat of his body right behind you. God you wanted to look back, to try and read that impossible book, but you knew better. You’d follow his commands, no questions asked, the way he wanted.

Without warning, your wrists were pulled together behind your back. Your breath halted suddenly at the harsh movement. You then felt the familiar sensation of a rope winding around your wrists and struggled to keep your eyes forward. You swallowed, realizing he must have had the rope on him the whole time. He sat across the table from you, rope in his pocket knowing how he was going to use it. Your head was swimming at the implications this brought.

When the movement around your wrists stopped and your arms were immobile, you felt the warm but rough presence of a hand on your waist. You followed this presence up your back, over your shoulder, then around your neck. You lifted your head, allowing him to grab a hold of your throat with a light squeeze. He leaned in close to your ear.

“You better be good for me this time,” he muttered, breath hot on your skin. “I won’t go easy on you next time you inevitably break the rules.”

You leaned against him, your legs growing weak and your head becoming light from the hold around your neck. You could only imagine what he meant, but you were ready for it, perhaps even eager for it. He’d gone easy on you longer than you’d expected.

“I will sir,” you said shakily. Another warm hand grazed the skin over your ribcage, then smoothed over your stomach.

“Prove it, darling.” The hand on your stomach descended further until it parted your thighs and found your impatient cunt. You whined as he slipped a finger through your folds slowly.

He circled his finger around your clit slowly, causing a long groan to leave you. Already you were worked up and horribly wet for him. Just from stripping and being bound, you reminded yourself. You shuddered, the realization of just how much he got to you starting to manifest. You pushed that thought away, tuning into the way his hand worked you.

The slow deep strokes he made against your cunt grew frustrating, the friction he created simply too little. You wondered if he could just fuck you right then with how wet you already were with need. But you knew he wouldn’t. He seemed to enjoy playing with you beforehand and that’s exactly what he was doing.

You pushed your hips downwards, hoping to find that extra bit of pressure. However, he removed his hand completely and squeezed the grip around your throat tight.

“Impatient today are we?” He taunted into your ear. “Keep still, you’ll only cum when I allow you to. I won’t be so gracious next time.”

“S-sorry sir,” you squeaked against the strong grip over your throat. His grip loosened then his hand slowly returned to your middle. You were beginning to feel grateful for the hand around your neck as it kept you upright as your muscles grew weaker.

Your legs wobbled and threatened to give out as he worked his fingers around your cunt with more persistence. You were biting back moans and found yourself clutching onto the fabric of Dutch’s shirt with your bound hands. He was still drawing out his movements, no doubt to watch you squirm as he held control of you with both hands.

You were growing more desperate for release, frustrated moans escaping your lips. Suddenly, Dutch found a rhythm that made your orgasm build so rapidly, you squealed. Your legs trembled and you struggled to keep them stable. Between panting moans, you found your voice.

“A-ah, I’m gonna fall, Dutch,” you squealed. Without a second in between, the hand left your cunt and swiftly smacked your thigh. You cried out, the sudden sting wonderfully startling. Your legs gave out, knees buckling beneath you. Dutch wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from hitting the ground completely. He paused for a moment, holding you as you whimpered quietly.

“Are you okay?” He asked. It was a serious, but stupid question frankly. You were more than okay. You were exhilarated, excited. You almost wanted him to strike you again, and you were mostly sure that he would.

“I guess you could say that,” you played with a weak laugh. Dutch let out a low, mischievous chuckle and helped you stand back up straight. He rubbed his hand delicately over your thigh, soothing the sting.

“What a filthy thing you are,” he muttered, his breath back against your ear. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips at those words. Your heart raced faster to that than any of the endearing names he used. What was happening to you?

He started slow again, your overly sensitive middle aching for more. It wasn’t long before your orgasm built again. Perhaps he was growing impatient himself as his strokes grew deeper and faster. You were panting as your mind grew more lustful with every move on his fingers. Your focus on standing was quickly fleeting.

Dutch’s heavy breath was hot against your ear as you finally came hard against his hand. He had to hold you upright with a grip around your shoulders as your legs became useless beneath you. You shuddered, waves of pleasure spreading through your whole body. Dutch drank in every loud moan you gave to him, humming back to you.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he praised as his hand continued to work you through your orgasm. He relented when your moans turned to quiet hums of pleasure. You regained use of your legs and slowly put your weight back on them.

Now that you could think a little clearer, you realized the strength required to keep you upright like that. You tuned into the strong grip he still had on you, bathing in the comfort it brought you that he’d used that strength to keep you safe. Your senses ignited, overwhelmed with the need for the man holding you tightly.

“I need you,” your voice acted before your mind, startling you. You closed your mouth promptly, hoping to stop any other thoughts from wandering out.

“What was that darling?” Dutch teased, a mischievous smile present in his voice. You shook your head, too embarrassed by your words to repeat them. He struck your thigh, the opposite one this time, and you squealed.

“Ah- I need you!” You cried. He gently rubbed the area he just smacked before continuing.

“That’s what I thought,” he teased with a chuckle. In a swift and forceful motion, you were shoved face down onto the table you’d eaten dinner at moments ago. You cried and squirmed under the strong hand pinning you down between your shoulders. The cold of the table on your exposed skin made you shiver.

“Don’t you move,” he growled, slowly removing his hand from your back. After hearing the familiar clink of him undoing his belt, you let out a hot shaky breath. You loved hearing that sound.

Soon, you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance. You whined, anxious to have him inside you. He slid his cock over your folds causing your muscles to tense in anticipation.

“This what you want dear?” He taunted, voice hovering over you.

“Yes sir,” you breathed, subconsciously jutting your hips backwards towards him. You were somehow so needy for him. You were then met with a hard strike to your ass, harder than the ones on your thighs, and you cried out loudly.

“So disobedient…” he growled, grabbing a tight hold of your hip. “I wonder if you even deserve it.”

You whined, trying to keep your composure as every inch of your body ached for him to fuck you. All your focus went to keeping yourself still through your protesting muscles.

“Please,” you begged, embarrassed, but too swayed by your lust to care.

“Please, what, darling?” He teased. He knew exactly what, that asshole.

“Fuck- just fuck me sir, please,” you said, frustration apparent in your voice. Dutch let out a low growl.

“Very well, my dear,” he said, arousal becoming more apparent in his breathless voice.

With a hand around the back of your neck, pinning you to the table, he pushed into your slowly. You moaned loudly, your nerves still overly sensitive from your previous orgasm and Dutch’s teasing words. He stretched you just perfectly, filling you with the pleasure you craved.

He stalled once he bottomed out, running a gentle hand down your back before pulling out and slamming into you. You cried out, the forceful movement sending a thrilling jolt through you. He repeated this a few times before setting a demanding pace into your cunt. You moaned against the table, mind unraveling as he thrust into you just as you begged for.

His hands found their way to your arms, still bound behind you. He grabbed them roughly, pulling you back into every thrust of his hips. Your head shot up, his cock reaching impossibly deeper and hitting that especially sensitive spot within you. You eyes rolled back as your orgasm built quickly

The pleasure built higher and higher as he drove his cock harder and harder into you. You were teetering on the edge, every thrust threatening to send you over. Then you did, walls clutching around his cock that continued to slam into you. Dutch let out a low growl, watching and feeling you come undone underneath him. You cried out with shaking muscles, giving him the exact performance he was hoping for.

Dutch slowed as you came down from your orgasm, still panting and trying to regain and ounce of composure. Then you realized, he hadn’t cum yet. Somehow through that, he was still hard and ready for more. He leaned down, his voice next to your ear again.

“You came so quickly dear,” he growled, sending a shiver down your spine. “And I’m not even close to being done with you.”

-

You were acutely aware of your surroundings as you stared blankly at the TV. It was playing some sort of old black and white movie you weren’t paying any attention to. Instead, you were in your own head, wondering why you were still in Dutch’s house.

He’d offered on day one for you to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d never taken him up on that offer. You had taken your cash and left out the door, but appreciated the courtesy no one else seemed to have. But now, for some reason, you’d ended up on the couch in the living room curled up with an all-too-soft blanket, and Dutch hadn’t asked you to leave. In fact, he sat with you on the opposite end of the couch.

You found yourself stealing frequent glances at him out of the corner of your eye. He’d changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants (a very strange sight, you thought) and was smoking a cigar silently. Smoking was something you’d never liked even though everyone seemed to do it nowadays. Cigars were a rarity in the scene, but that didn’t make you like them any more. To you, it was just another addictive trend made to profit off the susceptible. The more you looked, the more reason you found to hate it.

But Dutch made it look like an art. He smoked as if he was posing for a painting: his arm propped up on the arm rest of the couch, his deft fingers loosely wrapped around the cigar hovering next to his face. You watched him carefully, still out of the corner of your eye, as he took a long drag then slowly let the smoke out of his mouth. Your heart fluttered and you watched the cloud dissipate into the air.

You sighed and shifted on the couch, becoming more and more-and perhaps too-comfortable in your spot. The longer you sat here, the easier it became to stay. You couldn’t stay all night, you knew that, but something was just so comforting about being here. Even as the man that had smacked you around sat a foot away from you.

Maybe it was him that made you so comfortable.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself tonight,” Dutch broke the everlasting silence. It could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours that you sat with him without saying a word, you didn't know. You were quite content, though, staying in that silence.

“I suppose I did,” you said casually. You enjoyed yourself tonight more than he could know. Somehow, tonight taught you more about yourself than the very first night he’d experimented with you.

Looking back on it, you couldn’t believe the things you did moments ago. Begging, shrieking, cumming so many times you were drooling. These things were only supposed to happen in your wildest fantasies, not in real life, right?

But it did happen, and it was driving you wild thinking about it. You walked a line of shame and euphoria as you reminisced. It was honestly embarrassing and somewhat frightening how easy it was for you to submit to this man, but you knew for a fact you’d keep doing it.

Dutch laughed, catching your attention. Your breath halted as you watched him smile, genuinely. You were used to the devious smirks he gave you, but this. This was different. The flash of his teeth and the way his skin crinkled around his eyes…your heart fluttered.

“I know you did,” he said with a playful lit in his voice. You laughed despite the embarrassment on your cheeks. He sounded so sure of himself, but you’d play his little game.

“Yeah? How do you know?” You played back. He seemed to enjoy the returned banter as he flashed his teeth again. He shrugged casually and set down his cigar in the tray on the end table next to him.

“You’re still here,” he said, gesturing to you. Your face fell. It wasn’t the fact that you begged him to fuck you, no, that could be faked for the sake of money and he knew that. But to be sitting with him, enjoying his company…

He had you figured out.

You suddenly felt horribly exposed to him, more exposed than when you’d removed your clothes in front of his eyes. You felt the sudden fear that he knew everything about you: that your darkest fears and desires were abundantly clear to him.

You swallowed hard, hoping to quell that irrationality. Thankfully though, you were able to find the motivation to leave. You knew you shouldn’t stay too long, and it was starting to feel too long.

“I’m going to get going,” you said after a pause of tense silence-tense to you at least. Dutch shrugged and picked his cigar back up as you shrugged off the blanket you’d wrapped up in.

“Suit yourself dear,” he said as you stood and gathered your things. “Be careful getting home.”

You left his place without another word. You weren’t bitter, of course not. You knew you’d be back, but all you knew at that moment was that you had to leave. It was as if you were a deer running off after hearing the snap of a twig.

But as you ran off from the facade of danger, your heart raced, and you honestly wished you had stayed longer.

[sag-dab-sar]

you sound greek supremacist and colonist. we can say "greek cult" of a non-greek god; greeks have a bunch of their gods but "adopted gods" are incredibly important to note if you actually want to do a good job being a polytheist so people stop thinking, for once, that greeks invented literally everything that we know about the ancient world. a person can be a hellenic polytheist and follow greek rites but keep in mind that the deity is just not greek and was never so.

🔹You are fundamentally twitsing my words to say something they are not saying. 🔹

You want to preform Greek Rites with non-Greek deities? Fine go for it, if it is respectful (aka don't try Greek rites with Hindu Gods or Vodun Lwa etc). I never said you couldn't do that. I said don't try and be a Hellenic polythiest while trying to prove Greek Gods aren't Greek due to their origins— e.g Zeus, Aphrodite, Apollo. I also clarified that you can worship those Gods as a Roman polytheist, Etruscan polytheist, syncretist polytheist of various varieties etc etc and consider them to be of that culture not solely Greece because thats not what I was talking about.

I'm not a Greek supremacist, Greek supremacists would reallllllly truly absolutely fucking hate me, abhor me for daring to call myself Greek, and I have actively warned people against them. Or a colonist (unless we are talking about the fact that I live on Nipmuck & Pennacook lands which I completely recognize*—but I doubt thats what you meant). I'm allowed to say "stop trying to prove the Greek Gods aren't Greek because their 'origin' isn't in Greece" without being labeled those things. I think I gave pretty clear explanation of what I meant. Ašratum is just as much of a Babylonian God as Ištar is, even if her origin is Amorite. Inari-Ōkami is just as much of a Japanese Kami as Amaterasu-Ōmikami is, even though their origin is outside of Japan. And Zeus is a Greek God if you worship him in Hellenic tradition even if his origin is in the Eurasian Steppe.

I want to eat people who say non-Greeks cannot be Hellenic polytheists while simultaneously insisting that Hellenic polytheists respect Greek culture, history, people, and language— these are not mutually exclusive things.

🔹My Mistakes 🔹

I will fully admit I have had some bad dumb takes in the past that I no longer stand by like, for example, it annoyed me that its a-okay to draw Greek Gods as any race/ethnicity but completely un-okay to do that to non-European pantheons. Like I'd probably be called a flaming racist if I drew Inana with red hair and/or green eyes, even if I've "seen" her that way— at least when I originally wrote about it I would have. I honestly don't know if that post is even locatable anymore its so old but my issue was with the double standard not assigning strict ethnicities to the Gods.

My mind has morphed and changed as I've gotten older, learned, and matured but that type of post is as close as I can see anyone genuinely claiming that I'm somehow a supremacist. I've apologized for other shit I've done with cultural appropriation and wished I'd have differentiated between colorism and racism in other old posts. I'm not perfect, I bettered myself, I learned. That is something the internet cannot fathom a person ever doing, but it happens.

🔹Respect All Cultures — Living & ""Dead""🔹

But I stand by respecting cultures regardless of where they are in the globe. Another example— learning the words historical polytheists, such as Celts, used for their rites instead of slapping "shamanism", a Tungusic tradition, onto those Celtic traditions. Thats basic respect for both cultures imo and shows you genuinely care. I have a post about this respect thing that I'm far too afraid to upload.

If I want to worship Ištar Šaušga in Hittite tradition as a Hittite polytheist I believe it would be pretty fucking rude of me to say "well actually she isn't Hittite because her original cult lies in Akkad/Babylonia." And I consider people who call themselves Hellenic polytheist worshiping Aphrodite in a Hellenic way to be equally as rude if they say "well actually Aphrodite isn't Greek because her original cult lies in Phoenicia (probably)" Are her origins in Phoenicia and Cyprus? Yeh possibly... can we trace her back to Sumer? I have reservations about that but maybe. Regardless Aphrodite is still Greek. If you want to worship her in her "original form" and original tradition then be a Phoenician polytheist— it'll take a bit more work than Hellenic polytheism but its doable.

Saying a Greek God "is just not Greek and was never so" when referring to deities firmly rooted in ancient Greek tradition, with historical evidence, is plain rude.

I mix Greek & Sumerian religions so the idea of "foreign Gods" isn't something I'm against nor am I against syncretism or deity conflations (its just on a case by case basis) So either you are twisting my words purposefully or completely misunderstanding them.

🔹Final Thoughts🔹

I'm trying to take your ask in good faith. I hope it was a misunderstanding. I hope I cleared some things up. If you have genuine questions fine, but don't try to insult me please.

*I'm adding that bit about what lands I live on to my about me. Thank you for the idea /genuine.

-most definitely not proof read-

[lovelytsunoda]

take me home // mick schumacher

summary: with less than three hours before she becomes mrs. schumacher, y/n reflects on some of her favourite memories with mick.

pairing: mick schumacher x fem! reader

warnings: one minor sex scene, potential overuse of german pet names.

authors note: i swear to god ‘schatzi’ and ‘liebling’ are the two cutest pet names in the german language and if anyone ever uses them to refer to me i will melt.

munich, germany.

y/n sat at the vanity, wrapped in a pink silk robe. her hair was perfectly curled, falling down her back in tendrils. a simple diamond necklace rested it’s pendant in the hollow of her throat and she resisted the urge to fiddle with it.

the stunning white dress hung next to the mirror, white patent heels sitting stoically next to the gown.

in no more than three hours, she would be y/n schumacher.

and as excited as she was to marry mick, the absolute love of her life, the idea scared her, still felt unreal even though she knew that the german would be standing at the altar with sebastian and kevin, with his adorable wide eyed gaze on her the entire time.

y/n was trying not to cry, lest she ruin her makeup, which gina had spent so much time perfecting, as she recounted all the moments when she thought to herself ‘this could be it. mick schumacher could be the man that i marry’,

stockport, england. three years earlier.

“christ, mick, you do not have to drive me in this weather, i can find my own way home.”

the german scoffed. “come on, liebling. the rain is not that bad.”

the rain was definitely that bad, falling from the sky in sheaths. many people had abandoned their cars and decided to walk, or to catch the bus. mick and y/n had left the production of mean girls in london’s west end, and the rain had only gotten worse the closer to y/n’s home stockport that they went.

“i drive in conditions far less safe on a weekly basis’. the haas driver insisted. “we’ll be fine.”

she snorted. “I grew up in england, schumacher. i think i know more about the climate in stockport than you do.”

“if you’re scared, you can hold my hand.”

“not a chance.” y/n smiled as she slowly reached over the console to lace her fingers with micks. “but i’ll hold your hand anyways.”

the downpour showed no signs of letting up as mick and y/n drew closer to the y/l/n family home. mick was constantly amazed at how small stockport truly was, and how different y/n’s childhood must have been from his own, although she insisted that much of her finer years were spent in livelier, neighbouring manchester.

rain still pummeled the sports car’s metal roof as mick pulled his ferrari into y/n’s driveway, lights still on in the home’s living room window. upon seeing y/n’s father, mick froze.

“maybe this is as far as i go. if i drive away now, your dad won't see me.”

y/n chuckled. “he doesn’t hate you, mick. but in his defense, you did show up in a million dollar ferrari with a leather jacket, basically the epitome of every man my father told me not to date.”

mick leaned over the console of the car, pressing a kiss to y/n’s lips. “you’re so sexy when you use big words.”

“sexy enough that you’ll shield me from the rain while i make a mad dash for the front door?”

“whatever the lady wants.”

the young lovers got out of the car, squealed as the rain pelted them from all sides, mick eagerly pulling off his jacket to hold over his girlfriend’s head in an attempt to shield her from the spray.

by the time they reached the front porch, both millennials were soaked from head to toe.

“come here, schatzi, i want to try something.” mick grinned, baking into the rain

“mick, sweetheart, what are you doing?”

“you’ll see.” the german insisted, reaching for her hand.

laughing, y/n followed him into the rain as mick twirled her around before pressing a deep kiss to y/n’s lips.

in the middle of the pouring rain, as if he was in a nineties romantic comedy film.

“i’ve always wanted to do that.” the haas driver admitted with a giggle, resting his forehead against his lover’s.

geneva, switzerland.

y/n stood at the kitchen island, eighties rock music playing from her phone as she leaned over the cupcake tray in concentration, piping swirls of icing in the red and white haas colors onto the tops of each vanilla cupcake.

mick stood in the kitchen doorway, hair still damp from his post-workout shower as he watched his girlfriend bake. while y/n was distracted, mick came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to pepper her neck in kisses.

“hey, you.” y/n laughed, leaning into mick’s touch

“hi, liebling.” mick gushed, reaching for the tray.

as his hands were about to close in on a cupcake, y/n swatted his hand away.

“mick! those are for the guests.”

mick and y/n were hosting the haas f1 team’s annual season kickoff party, as mick was about to celebrate his second season in formula one. y/n was still relatively new to the formula one world, and she was eager to make a good impression on her boyfriend’s team.

“i just want one, babe.”

“you have to wait until guenther and kevin get here!”

“but guenther and kevin always arrive last!”

“that's the point, darling.”

mick groaned, burying his head in her neck before the song changed, and he pulled her away from the kitchen island. y/n extricate herself from his grip, letting mick take her hand and lead her where he wanted to go.

the couple now stood in the living room of the open-concept apartment, swaying together as ‘sweet emotion’ by aerosmith began to play. mick twirled her around, socked feet sliding across the hard wood as y/n giggled.

“mick, what are you doing?’ she laughed, looping her arms around his neck as mick pulled her close, resting his hands on her waist as the couple swayed together to the music.

“dancing with my girlfriend to her favourite aerosmith song.” the german answered simply, admiring the girl in front of him.

y/n was his personal angel, dressed in a cropped haas sweater and tight fitting jeans. she was always there for him, even when his race performance wasn’t where he wanted it to be.

she laughed, kissing mick. “walk this way’ is my favorite aerosmith song, loverboy.”

“close enough.” mick laughed, pulling y/n closer for a deeper, more sensual kiss. “can i have a cupcake now?”

“not a chance.”

cozumel, mexico.

mick schumacher was in pain.

in theory, spending the day at a beach in cozumel was a fantastic idea, until he came back to the hotel looking like a lobster with the mother of all sunburns on his back.

“babyyyy” mick whined. “i need you.”

y/n laughed, sauntering out of the ensuite bathroom dressed in one of mick’s salmon pink button down shirts and not much else, a bottle of aloe vera gel in her hand.

“i’m right here, baby.” she cooed, heart aching at the sight of her boyfriend lying face-down on the bed, his back and angry shade of pink that she knew must sting when the driver put pressure on it. “you poor thing.”

“as i recall,” mick groaned “mexico was your idea.”

“oh, come on you big baby.” she laughed, settling herself on the bed so she was straddling mick, squeezing the aloe onto her hands.

mick moaned under her touch as she massaged the sunburn gel into his back, nimble fingers making quick work and ensuring that the haas driver relaxed and still tried to enjoy his holiday, even while his back stung like hell.

“you’re too good to me, liebling.” mick mumbled as her fingers came up to his shoulders, massaging the tightened muscles while also working in the aloe. “you know, if my back wasn’t in so much pain right now, i would make love to you so hard.”

y/n giggled, wiping off her hands and moving to lie next to mick, one sunburnt arm over her shoulders. “sure, baby.” their foreheads are touching, and she brings a hand up to run it through mick’s hair.

“really, y/n. i’m going to marry you someday.”

geneva, switzerland. one week before the wedding.

“oh, mick.”

the room was dim, the only light coming from the scented candles that mick had lit, artfully placed around the room. scattered rose petals lay on the hardwood floor and the cotton duvet that was wrapped around the couple as y/n slowly bounced on mick’s cock, his length at the perfect angle inside of her.

she moaned loudly, back arched and head thrown back as she dug her fingers into her fiance’s shoulder blades. her skimpy silk nightdress was bunched over her hips, mick’s hands leaving impressions on her thighs as he held her close amidst the passionate love making, one nightgown strap falling down her shoulder and allowing one breast to tumble free of the fabric for mick to play with.

“you feel incredible, schatzi.” mick moaned, tilting his head back before meeting y/n’s lips in a somewhat sloppy kiss as he thrust upwards into her again, biting down on her lip gently.

“m-mick, i think i’m c-close” she managed to say through moans, breathing heavy as she held onto mick like her life depended on it

he kissed her shoulder gently, lovingly. “cum for me, baby. show me how good i make you feel.”

as they both came down from their highs, mick held his fiancee close, as if he was memorizing every curve of her body while she righted her nightdress, covering her chest.

mick had already memorized her body a long time ago.

“i can’t believe this is the last time we’re gonna do this before you legally make me yours.” y/n said dreamily, running her fingers through mick’s sweaty hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

y/n would leave for her hen week the following morning, and would be back from monte carlo just in time for the wedding. mick would be with seb, kevin, guenther and a couple of other drivers for his bachelor trip, which sebastian had turned into a three-day camping expedition. mick would come back sooner, to help prepare the final “day before” things for the wedding.

“you were mine way before i asked you to marry me.” mick corrected, pecking his fiancee on the lips. “and there’s no way that this was the last time. the last time will be the quickie we have before you leave tomorrow, when i fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to miss me because you can still feel my hands all over your body.”

he said it so innocently, but if she hadn’t still been straddling mick’s cock, y/n would have been clenching her thighs together.

“i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, mick schumacher.”

“why wait? we already spend every second of our lives together, why should anything change after we say our vows?”

y/n kissed him again, grinding down on mick’s lap. with a sly grin, mick flipped them both over so he hovered over top of y/n.

“the night is still young, my love. we have all the time in the world.”

munich, germany. the day of the wedding.

the knock on the door startled y/n out of her reverie. gina schumacher was standing on the other side, a giddy expression on her face.

“who’s ready to go and let my brother make her the happiest woman in the world?”

y/n laughed. “i just have to put the dress on. do you mind giving me a hand?”

once y/n was ready, the thick train of her wedding dress and veil trailing behind her, she took her father’s arm, walking down the aisle to ‘swing life away’ by rise against. she couldn't see much through the veil, but she could see mick standing at the altar with seb and kevin, who waved at her once they saw her.

fully situated at the altar, mick’s hands were shaking as he brushed the fabric of the veil away from y/n’s face.

“hello, husband.” y/n said quietly as the officiant began to speak.

“hi, wife.” mick grinned, glowing as he laced his fingers with hers, overjoyed to spend the rest of his life with the woman in front of him.

“i now pronounce you, mr and mrs schumacher! you may now kiss the bride !”