#I had so many ambitions but as usual I got distracted by the thought of a2

[headfulloffeathers]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Look Homeward Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: A1/A2 Characters: A1 - Character, A2 - Character, Angel 1, Angel 2 Additional Tags: Jealousy, First Time, Vati's OCs Summary:

He is looking over at a2 driving and taking in the sight. A2 looks so grown now, his frame blocking the whole driver’s side window and his legs bunched up under the steering wheel, even with the seat all the way back. His eyes linger on a2’s forearms and biceps, how the freckles covering his skin are more infinite then the stars visible out the windshield.

A love letter to a2.

And a thank you to @hcnnibal for these characters.

[streets-in-paradise]

Matured Desire - Achilles x (Fem) Reader

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by Anon

" hiya! I have an Achilles request, what if they’ve both been sort of enemies for the longest time ever since they were kids, and at one point he gets fed up, and kisses her roughly ending up in the roughest kinkiest sex people could think of (tying up, choking, spanking, dirty talk, dom x sub, sort of a hate fuck.) please! "

Hi! I'm a bit nervous because this is my first time writing a full piece of smut, but I did my best and i hope you will enjoy it. The plot for the childhood rivalry is inspired in greek mythology, but adapted to how the story of the film plays out regarding characterzations.

Warnings: Rough hate fuck against a wall - hair pulling -chocking - spanking - lots of dirty talk.

Summary: Your eternal rivalry with Achilles gets you the attention of the mycenaean king In the context of his country wide search for a queen. Bringing up your troubled past together, the myrmidon believes you are seeking an union with Agamemnon to get the power to destroy his life.

As he confronts you about it, your tensions get to a critical point when the warrior concludes he will have to do something out of it. Your hatred remains too close to passion and he can only ruin you for any other man before you could ruin his lifetime's ambitions.

Tags: @thorsslxve

There was nothing Achilles despised more than the cheerfullness of Agamemnon. Not only because it usually meant bad news, but also due to how insufferable he tended to become on a good mood. His arrogance was high up to the sky contesting with his. Since the king felt in constant need to compete with his best warrior, it was important for him to brag on his every achievement.

On that particular moment, it was about the bride he would get for himself. After his brother married the most beautifull woman in the world he started to reconsider the lack of a queen in his palace and commanded every king of Greece to pick one of their unwed daughters so he could pick a wife among the princesses of the region. All the generals of his army were invited to witness the contest, and a handfull of kings he considered friends were there as well.

It was a power display to cause envy. A parade of the most ravishing girls of Greece after Helen circling the King in some sort of reverse parody of what happened when the spartan queen was still a maiden wanted by a multitude of suitors. The myrmidon found it hilarious, but that entertainment came with the price of standing the triumphal bliss of his rival.

In order to avoid an early scandall making fun of him, Achilles tried to distract himself watching the girls. They were all veiled for the future groom, only showing their faces when he commanded each one to introduce themselves. Beauty from all over the country was gathered there and while their faces remained covered he could still have a fun cassually checking their bodies.

He found a personal favorite quite soon. The light clothes of her fancy purple dress allowed him to perfectly picture her shape underneath, occupying his imagination in more pleasant thoughts. One by one her contestants did their thing, but he followed her with expectancy for the big reveal.

All traces of amusement abandoned the warrior's face when he recognized you. From all his many daughters, King Lycomedes had to pick you in representation of Scyros. It was unfortunately true for him that you had become a very desirable woman, so the choice was understandable, but you were one his enemies of longest date. Since he was a kid hidding in your father's court, and when you were teenagers you almost got him kicked out of there.

Everytime you crossed ways, disaster happened.

It was an unspoken theory, but he believed it all started because you were jealous of your sister. She was his first crush, and you told your father about it after you discovered them making out. Lycomedes would have kicked him out if Odysseus wouldn't have discovered his disguise in the first place, but your hatred didn't end with that.

Only a heartbroken girl would react so viscerally, the hate you hoarded for years didn't make sense otherwise. He believed you still despised him because you couldn't have him and once that childhood crush matured into desire things could only escalate. You would never forgive him for being your first love, but the passion of your hate showed your flame never got extinguished.

As soon as circunstancies allowed it, you were mesmerizing the mycenaean king with your disdain for his soldier.

" Achilles! Long time no seen. " You saluted him, with poisonous cordiality. " How are things going in your kingdom of savages? Well, only if that can be called a kingdom. Nowadays it's a military reserve of Mycenae you don't even rule as king. "

The myrmidon was visibly calm, calculating his strike before delivering it.

" How is Deidamia? I remember her with such strong affection."

" She is married. " You responded, with false propriety. " Happyly married, thanks to our protectiveness of her keeping scum away."

The wedding of his teenage crush didn't bother him at all, but he still manage to utilize it against you.

" I always knew she was going to make it before you. Look now where you ended: pleasing an old man that could be your father. "

You showed a tranquilzing smile to the king, mere witness of your altercate that was untill then very amused.

" Don't worry, your majesty. Achilles tends to act like this arround me because my presence reminds him of details that ruin the appeal of his legend. He wants no one to remember he spent his younger years hidding in my palace dressing on girl's clothes so your emisaries wouldn't find him. Have you seen the baby face of his little cousin? He has the same girly features he used to have back then."

Agamemnon was in awe with the slander. Even if it was just for that, you were becoming a strong favorite.

" Well, my dear. I hope you have some good stories for me. "

" She is the only person in the country who is more obsessed with me than you. " Achilles recalled, determined to ruin your plans. " She went as far as turning her father against me saying i was going to sleep with her sister. "

The way in which he twisted the facts to make it sound like a conspiracy against him got out the worst of you.

" I was the onlyone seeing past your charm, and time proved I was ríght now that we all know of your amatory adventures. " You fiercely defended yourself. " You were a reckless boy that had just discovered the thing hanging between his legs and was eager to try it on the first foolish girl available. Deidamia was too naive, but I knew better. By warning my father I protected her and saved our royal house from the shame of being stucked with a fatherless mess like the one you were when we received you. "

It crossed límits, but he wasn't afraid of returning the hatefull gesture.

" I think your boyfriend deserves to know where all that hate for me comes from before taking his choice. " He teased you ríght away. " You are my Phaedra … "

He had just compared you to the most sexually frustrated queen in greek history, whose vengefull spite was rooted on being ignored by the object of her desires.

" You insolent BASTARD!!! " You called him out before you could loose your temper and try to smack him. " Better start praying I won't be crowned queen. "

The warning left a bad taste in his mouth that was stronger than the altercate. Imagining you as Agamemnon's bride was a nightmare on itself because of the implications of a teaming up against him, but there was more that he couldn't simply admit.

He hated you, but couldn't stand the thought of seeing you with him. He still attempted to understand why you were so Interested on giving yourself to that pig of a king. Could your thirst for vengeance have gone that far? Where you capable of tolerating Agamemnon as your husband just so you could get some control over him? It was most likely that you had no idea of where you were stepping in, since your island once sheltered him safely because they didn't have much contact with the mycenaeans.

Figuring out what you were all about was his most inmediate need but, for that, he needed to talk to you in private. All day he awaited untill the oportunity to get lost with you presented itself during a lousy banquet. Following you closely as you intended to leave, he catched you off guard in a hallway.

" You knew this was coming, now follow me. "

Your playfull smirk spoke for you before you did.

" What If I don't? "

He grabbed you harshly, keeping your wrist still.

" We will do it the hard way. "

There was no choice, so you let him guide you through the foreign palace searching for the nearest room he could lock you in. Achilles secured the door behind him, knowing from then you were going to be completely alone.

" After comparing me to the thirsty wife of Theseus, you drag me away like this? " You mocked him ríght away. " Have you no shame? "

The tension was escalating slowly, but consistently.

" I have no time for your games, so you better tell me what I want to know. "

You chuckled lightly, enjoying yourself in this curiosity.

" Go ahead, i'm feeling generous. "

He groaned out of angered frustration, clearly fed up with you already.

" What do you want from Agamemnon? Do you expect me to believe you really are excited to the chance of being his wife? "

You response was calm and you were aware that would provoke him.

" He is the wealthiest, most powerfull man in Greece, and he hates you … Two qualities I find irresistible. "

He pushed you against a wall, barely able to control his rage to continue the interrogation.

" Do you think i'm a fool? You can't possibly wish for anything but the power to destroy me through that marriage. "

His strong hand grabbed your neck and squeezed, cutting off your air with ease. Achilles wanted to force a truth out of you, but couldn't help noticing you were peraphs too on board with that before releasing you so you could speak.

" I want an empty palace where i can sit on a throne. " You began to explain once you catched your breath. " While he will be away with you doing his wars, i can do what I want here. "

It wasn't enough for him.

" … And when he will want to touch you? Are you going to spread your legs for him like a good little wife ? "

His hand was once more arround your neck, quietly threatening with more choking depending of your answer.

" Are you trying to scare me? That's not going to work with me. " You mischievously warned him. " I'll do what it takes, my duty of queen. Agamemnon can have me, I will even fake my moans if i have to just to keep him satisfied. I'm fine with that, he has to get something out of the deal. I will take care of his throne and meet his sexual needs "

The answer awakened something primal on him.

" Not if I ruin you first … "

Sick of pretending to ignore the frustrating tension, he pulled you in for a rough kiss and you responded taking one of your hands to the back of his neck to pull his hair.

There was no way out for you from then.

Achilles ripped off the safety pins of your dress so it would fall on the floor. Once you were naked against him he began to tease you again.

" Look at how easily I destroyed your pride … Yet you dare to deny you are a needy whore. "

You didn't stay behind, iniciating another passionately hatefull kiss while your hands worked in undressing him. The godly shaped hero allowed you to roam his perfectly sculped body and you sank your nails in his hips before replying.

" You are only good at killing or fucking and you loathe me enough for either, so unless you want to spear me … "

The recklessness was paid at high cost when he turned you over so you will be facing the wall, head posicioned firmly to the side.

" I'm going to make you feel as if I was killing you. " He whispered against your ear in a husky tone. " But first, you will learn to respect me. "

You flinched with anticipation, incapable of predicting what he would do. Then, his hand started following the trace of your back all the way down and stopped in the curve of your ass.

A soft squeeze was followed by a hard spank that sounded as strongly as it felt. It send a wave of confusing, pain-stained pleasure all the way to your core, but you tried to keep still. He persisted, untill it became so intense that your knees were failing and you were about to cry.

" Who are you going to spread your legs for now? " He asked in a mock. " Are you going to be my obedient little whore? "

You lost the few shame you had left with one more slap on the mistreated surface of your asscheck.

" YES, YES! " You practically cried out. " I'll be, … I'll be your whore. I want it so badly, please! "

Achilles released a dark chuckle.

" Let's see how bad you really want it. "

He had barely reached the surface of your soaked cunt with his fingertips and you were already buckling your hips in desperation to find friction.

" Dripping wet, you nasty whore. " He commented and removed the hand to watch you fall apart. " Stop whimpering, i'm not going to keep touching you. Caresses are not what you deserve."

Suddenly, you felt the tip of his hard cock teasing your folds. Arrousal had reduced you to a pathetic mess and he got to hear you sobbing from that contact.

" No mercy, I will be rammering you. " He warned you. " … and you are going to take it. "

With that, he pushed himself inside you. Absolutely careless for your needed time adjusting to his size, he began his mercieless thrusting using you for his pleasure. The animalistic grunts he was making and the exquisite painfull pleasure of being fucked like that were soon going to become to much for you.

Achilles had completed his vengeance to control you before you could control him: you were ruined for any other man.

[kooki914]

At long last, she makes her debut, My interpretation of the mayor - Clarice Holiday!

I very heavily leaned into the stricter/meaner interpretation of her, because that's essentially all we have confirmed about her in the game rn. Hence, her design is also very deltarune-esque, I tried not too lean too heavily into my own style it in order to keep the vibes consistent with the game. Hopefully I succeeded!

Headcanon(?) dump under the cut! (it's really long)

She's very direct and to the point. If you talk for more than 10 seconds at a time, she'll tell you to either get to the point or shut up.

She has a decently pleasant sense of humour, but you wouldn't assume it based on how she usually talks. Rudy usually makes jokes for the both of them, often as a way to distract Clarice from whatever she was slowly getting pissed off at. Seeing her genuinely smile can be weirdly relaxing, though, like a weight's been lifted.

As mentioned in the accompanying image, she runs on a very strict schedule, for basically everything. If you tell her "I don't know when" for something she will personally make you a timetable for that entire day and be EXTREMELY mad if you don't follow it to the letter per her insistence.

She's kind of superficial - never lets her grey hairs show and never leaves the house without a full face of makeup.

It's mostly a side effect of two of her worst traits: not being able to accept change, and always feeling the need to be in control. These are like habits she can't shake, and pointing them out only makes her agitated and less willing to listen.

Both of these flaws only got worse after Dess disappeared.

Even before then, she always had very high standards for both herself and her family. She was always doing her best to not only project the image of a perfect family, but to fully embrace and embody it.

It's why she's so trigger happy with taking away things from Noelle and Dess she isn't personally invested in. Video games that scare Noelle or "encourage bad behavior" in Dess, any non-family friendly movies, any overly creative and artsy pursuits that she doesn't think would make a good career path in the long run.

Basically the only thing the whole family can agree on is Christmas, hence why their whole image as a family unit is centered around it - it's another projection of the seemingly perfect household.

Clarice very intentionally manipulates and intimidates the people around her to get what she wants, but she genuinely doesn't see it as a particularly bad thing because she's convinced she knows better than everyone else, and is the only one who can "properly" do "the right thing".

She's extremely competitive, even more so than Toriel. They used to bond over that in college, though the only reason Clarice never held a grudge is because Toriel can actually let go of useless competition and let Clarice win basically every time.

Clarice can’t let go of useless competition.

Unironically the only person who saw the flaws in Toriel and Asgore's relationship from a mile away and always thought Toriel should’ve dumped Asgore years ago. She likes talking about how she "knew it all along" and how Toriel should've "listened" to her, etc etc. If Clarice wasn't so petty about this maybe her and Toriel would've stayed close.

“It’s a dog eat dog world” is essentially her unspoken motto. She doesn't say it, though, because she doesn't like when people pick up on her more Machiavellian personality traits.

Clarice always looked down on Asgore for his lack of ambition, which only got worse when he failed to find Dess when she went missing.

The only reason she’s giving him so many chances to pay his rent is because Rudy’s insisting on it, though Clarice hasn’t told him that Asgore’s living in the same building he’s working in. If asked, she'd say it's to "not hurt his feelings", but in reality she just doesn't see their friendship as important enough to help maintain, even indirectly.

That whole debacle made it REALLY easy for Clarice to essentially blackmail Rudy with whatever she wants by using evicting Asgore as a threat, a potential retribution for not getting what she wants. She doesn't do it very often, but the fact that she pulled that stunt even once isn't a good thing.

Their relationship wasn’t always so toxic, though there were red flags from the start.

She really enjoys flattery and things that play into her grandiose idea of herself - she really does like when Rudy complements her and plays along with her games (even when he says things that border on objectifying), but PART of that game is that she always berates him for it or calls it childish or unnecessary, in order to keep up her "untouchable" persona that he's so attracted to.

She loves him in the way a child loves their favourite toy. He goes everywhere with her, they do everything together, and he essentially acts as both her voice of reason and her comic relief sidekick.

When he's not around, Clarice is even more miserable and demanding than usual. When she's not around, Rudy doesn't know what to do with himself and stresses over things that aren't even there. They depend on each other, but it's not healthy, and out of the two of them, it takes the biggest strain on Rudy.

In the bigger-picture sense, it's taken an even bigger strain on Noelle. Clarice is arguably the biggest reason why the poor kid doesn't know how to say "no". Her mom does everything and hardly lets Noelle get a word in. She has to be both fully self-sufficient to live up to her mother's demands, while ALSO fully relying on her like the obedient daughter Clarice wants. Rudy mediates the situation however he can, but admitting that Clarice is HURTING Noelle is nearly impossible for him, because it'd mean admitting that Clarice has been hurting him, too.

Clarice takes great pride in both being a hard worker and a “great” mother and wife all at the same time. She IS the ideal, as far as she's concerned. Any questioning of this will get you metaphorically killed on the spot.

Most people don’t see her problematic behavior for what it is because, by most metrics, she’s “made it”. She’s wealthy, she has a loving family, she has an important and high ranking position. What more could you really want out of life?

She still hasn't accepted that Dess is gone.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Are you still doing the yandere family series?

I am!

But I'm so happy that your interested

Since a new chapter is in the works

I'll give you a little snippet

🖤🖤🖤🖤

A Promise for the Future | Yandere Family

Victor wasn’t often left to wander in the Froth home. Usually Michael or Yulia would take the lead; taking him to play games or listen in on their plans. But they were called away leaving Victor to explore hislove's Michael’s room. 

He admits he was digging deeper than he meant to but he silently cheered as he found many things that helped him understand his love friend. Boxes filled with various baby trinkets, and letters probably meant to never be read. After taking a sneaky look behind him and at the door he began to read. 

“Dear Yulia, 

Your too young now to realize it but our mother is wretch. Today I witnessed the disrespect she showed your beautiful painting of our family. I can’t describe how much I’d love to strangle her but I won’t since you like her so much. 

Baby (Y/n) has been fussy lately. I think its cause their teething or maybe they just like attention. Unfortunately I don’t have time to tell since mother and Dad are pretty fixed on this Appleworth plan. If you ask one day I’ll tell you but for now just know that we need to be friends. At first I thought the purple haired kid named Victor was-”

His reading was cut off by the frustrated cooing two rooms over. He fought with himself. He really wanted to read what his Michael had to say about him but he desperately wanted to investigate. He put the letter back in its place, restoring the hiding space to the best of his abilities before scampering in the direction of sound. 

He knew it was the sound of the baby (Y/n). Even so his heart fluttered and heat tickled his cheek as he came closer to the nursery door. He had seen babies before but as an only child all he got was the limited view from a few parents in his mother’s circle. 

Finally turning the knob he let himself in. Filled with the soft smell that only babies seemed to have. Frustrated gurgles came from the wiggling baby in the cradle. Taking a nearby stool he carefully stood up before looking down at the little (s/c) baby looking up at him. 

“Hi there baby!”

Vincent thinks your the cutest. Its just as Michael rants about when he’s happy, a baby with bright (e/c) eyes and chubby cheeks. He resisted the urge to pinch them. Even as he made kissy and silly faces nothing seemed to distract you, as you continued to fuss. He didn’t know how to pick you up so he picked his brain for what he found comfortable. 

Finally remembering what he could he decided to climbed over the cradle railing. Watching his feet as he in next to you. He happily sniffed in your overwhelming baby-scent as he scooched closer. Breathing in deep he began to rub the baby’s belly. Frustrated to contented coos he happily watched as your eyelids began to droop. Watching you intently, he let his urge to kiss at your plush cheek take over continuing to rub at the baby’s belly. Soon he too began to slip away falling asleep alongside baby (Y/n) with full-intentions to help Michael. He planned to protect you if not for his own ambition than for Michael.

Yandere Family (original series) Masterlist

[whatbigotspost]

On being real mean and then less mean

Long post incoming........I've been chipping away at writing this for like a month now and (unlike my usual self) I've stalled out a few times unsure of what all I want to say. But I think I've got it squared up the way I would like to. Unfortunately, I need a long context laying preamble. Sorry this will feel like an online recipe experience 😅

As the 5 of you who usually read my blocks of text will know well, I grew up in a very toxic, abusive, high-control environment. If you wanted to intentionally produce kids who would have anxiety, shame, self-loathing, aggression, be overly-competitive, angry, and equipped with little-to-no social skills, you should be parented like I was. In my nuclear family, we couldn't have had worse life lessons or role modeling when it comes to building healthy relationships, strong friendships, and harmonious existence with others. Violence was often normalized. Manipulation was encouraged. Specific conditions and rules were put on receiving love and/or affection. We weren't seen as independent humans who had their own lives and thoughts and ambitions--we were seen as extensions of my father, brought into the world to be his unquestioning cheerleaders and adoring team, to do our best to become his clones, to live out his unrealized dreams, and to combat his grievances w/ the world.

In short, it sucked.

Above all, I was taught in a very deep and real way to hate myself, not that this was explicitly acknowledged mind you, but it was the implication of everything. This self loathing was an extension of my father's own insecurities and full inability to grow the fuck up and build a life for himself that was emotionally mature, resilience, and self-caring. This mentality, if truly internalized, creates ugliness from the inside that radiates outward. I can see that so clearly now, but back then, I didn't understand it at all.

I was implicitly taught a thought process like, "the best way to 'own' someone is to shit talk them into crying" or "you can make yourself look stronger and distract from your own shortcomings by staying 1 step ahead of everyone through making THEM feel like shit about their shortcomings."

But you weren't just mean to someone to stay ahead of them, you were also mean as a way to ingratiate others to you. "Telling it like it is" even if what you said was unnecessarily cruel, was a virtue. Like, "what? I'm just saying what we're all thinking!" kind of stuff. I was taught that "teasing" is a way you show someone you love them, where "teasing" means saying all kinds of awful things that are quite hurtful. I was taught that being funny was one of the most important qualities and it didn't matter if those laughs came at the expense of others' feelings and if, over time, your comments began to destroy those around you.

It's "just teasing." It's "just joking." It was a lot of "oh come, on grow a thicker skin" over "maybe saying cruel shit for fun is bad?" It was "God, I can dish it and I can take it, why can't you?" over "maybe I want friends who support one another instead of digging at our insecurities."

Some recent nostalgia I've been wallowing in this summer reminded me of my grossest self who lived by these rules.

Those worst moments, where I was a bully and an asshole, all occurred for me at school, when I was probably around 11/12 and older. School was a very interesting place for me. When I try to paint an efficient picture of what my childhood home was like for others, I often say, my family existed in a weird liminal someplace between mainstream, mid western white suburban society and a survivalist/separatist/cult/fringe culture (like Tara Westover describes in Educated or as seen in Captain Fantastic if you're familiar w/ either of those.) We were a cult of 4 and there were many things We Did Not Do, all my dad's rules. (My grandparent's house was a safe harbor unlike my home, but that's a tangent for another time.) That said, accessing education was something my father DID trust the local government to do (as long as he could emphasize over and over how we can't trust everything they say, we could trust their lessons of math, music, English, etc.) He strategically chose a place to live where I could get the best "free" education possible in Central Indiana. My social life existed fully in a traditional school setting, where it took me all of 2 seconds to clock that other kids' lives weren't like mine, and that was compelling to me. I became a lifelong student of interpersonal relationship dynamics far before I realized I had become a lifelong student of relationships. I remember when I was in elementary school journaling about and thinking about and talking about all the friend groups and dynamics, etc. Writing stories about friend groups. Creating Barbie universes and dramas with 2 neighborhood friends. Trying to spend more and more time w/ peers instead of family.

Beyond that, I loved school because I would receive praise and love at home for A's and praise and love from my teachers for being "so good" (aka offering 100% deference to adult authority as I been told to do, even if I could question them inside.) This all means when I was very young, I did SO WELL at figuring out school...how to make friends...how to get an A+...how to get teachers to love me...how to be The Good Kid...how to reduce my value to my grades and what I produced, which is a mentality I've still only begun to unweave from within me, some 30 years later.

Anyway, point is, despite the hand I was dealt, I somehow never had trouble making friends and with a lot of my closest friends, I wasn't all that mean to in the way I describe above, at least initially. But when I did apply that behavior, god damn was it ugly. I get that now, but back then, I felt cool as fuck.

The more it (temporarily worked for me) the more I used meanness. By the time I was like 17, I literally was known as mean and wore it as a badge of honor. Lacking emotional intelligence and an overtly loving home environment, I thought it was normal? cool? idk...to "not be able to handle mushy emotional stuff." I would (LITERALLY) run if friends were telling me they loved me. It became more and more common for me to apply, "witty mean girl" quips to even my closest friends. Stuff was said about me like, "oh, if she makes fun of you, it means she really loves you." I was always saying shit to gain laughs from others that really hurt some people and I would act like that was a THEM thing like "god, they're so sensitive, poor widdle baby."

NOT GOOD. Nothing to be proud of. Signs of someone who deep down hates themselves and hopes you don't notice because of a big, bad exterior. In this era, I was someone who attracted and accepted other toxic people and was abusive toward and accepted abuse from friends who had these same issues. How I met and fell in love w/ my partner who is not at all like this during that period of time back when sometimes confounds me. His boundaries and feelings are why I started really looking inward. His patience and willingness to understand what was going on for me was immense (as I was similarly patient for things related to his baggage.) FOR YEARS we had a dynamic where I'd "make fun of" "tease" "just joke" about him too harshly in front of others and he would ask me over and over to stop. I'd get better for a while, then I'd backslide and make him feel like shit in a group setting again--but hey! everyone laughed at my ~*~*just oh so hilarious comment*~*~ and so that makes it fine right?? Obviously, not, and the older I got the more I started to FINALLY see "mean" as mean and not "telling it like it is" or being a core part of my humor.

How I REALLY know that this toxic coping mechanism I used to my benefit was a thinly veiled defense mechanism style behavior to cloud my deep deep deep self loathing is because when I'd be talking w/ my partner about his very reasonable and normal request that I not say unnecessarily cruel things about him for fun in front of others, I would be afraid of things like, "But that's part of who I am? It's my humor."

I really thought so lowly of myself that I believed that if I wasn't witty-mean, people wouldn't love me. That I wouldn't still be funny. That I wouldn't be ME unless I was being MEAN. It was so backwards and upside down because my meanness did make me harder to be around, and people were right there loving me anyway, not because of it, but despite it.

It's so sad to realize this! Looking back and describing this girl now feels in both parts foreign to me and also like looking in a mirror. I've been in 20 years of some form or another of "recovery" from this kind of childhood now, and I'm about 15 years into true healing and re-parenting myself. Almost 14 years ago, I made the biggest shift toward killing this old mentality...I moved away from my home town and the people I spent my days around to that point. I had an opportunity for a hard reset in my social life and behaviors, leaving behind old reputations that didn't serve me. And I’m still me. I’m spicy and I’m real and I’m blunt and I’m funny but I’m not cruel or mean anymore. The old me sometimes still rears her ugly head, especially when I'm tired, stress, or dysregulated. But it's less "how I am" now than ever in my life.

As I've been thinking about this whole topic for quite a few weeks now, and I tried to articulate what I did that really changed me and allowed me to shed that mean girl shell of armor I was wearing that I had so thoroughly needed to outgrow. If these things resonate with you, I do have some pieces of advice.

Speak from your personal values 100% of the time. That means defining your personal values first, not just accepting what you think is valuable you've been told by others. Once I grew the maturity to understand I needed my own life values, it was very simple to grasp that I was not in line with them. My top 5 personal life values are: love, equity, humor, loyalty, and open communication. Mean jokes don't check many of those boxes.

Become your own best friend first. My behaviors were driven by self-hatred I did not choose. When I choose how I want to feel about myself, I choose self-compassion, and I actively cultivate this mentality and practice all. the. time so that I don't backslide.

Stop "telling it like it is." This is not helpful. No one needs something obvious and cruel pointed out. This is basic "THINK" acronym stuff. It's a classic because it works. Is what you're about to say.... "true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, kind." Telling it like it is is only TRUE, it's rarely -HINK.

Never "just joke" about something someone could possibly be vulnerable about. If someone has a physical wound, you don't jab your finger into it for fun. When someone has an emotional tenderness, you similarly don't jab a mean comment into it. When in doubt, just don't joke about it.

Have actual hard conversations and "call outs" in the right times/spaces. Sometimes behavior that one friend may call "mean" is actually a very necessary hard conversation to the other person. So it's helpful to just remember that those kind of real-deal communications are rarely done effectively or productively with an audience or by using humor. Real shit deserves a real shit tone.

Push yourself to say the nicest stuff and just be fucking sincere and genuine. Tell your friends you love them. Tell your friends when you are obsessed with what they are achieving/doing/saying. Tell your friends WHAT you love about them. Make an effort for your most important relationships to have far, far more "positive bids" than negative.

Use "teasing" or "self deprecating" humor selectively and strategically. Sometimes, my partner and I DO tease each other by having open communication and actually knowing one another's boundaries, I now understand what's fine and what's not. So I can proceed w/o hurting him. But I don't know most people to that level, so I'm not going to try to tease someone else in front of others w/o that knowledge anymore. Self deprecating humor has also been a go-to for me in the past and one of the people I could be meanest to was myself. I realized I should use it sparingly with people who I don't know well, too, because I don't necessarily need to give them a cheat sheet to what my baggage is. And lastly, in general, I think that we should ALL be very very careful to spare strangers our sarcasm, deadpan comments, or whatever. Many folks are neurodiverse or otherwise don't get your sarcasm and your implications can be lost in translation. You never know what topics, with strangers, might be a hornet's nest you stumble into.

PFEW! Ok, I think that's plenty for now! If you've got similar tips or thoughts, LMK! Of course, I still fuck up my practice of not being mean all the time, but the best thing about having done this work and shared it with those around me is that my friends are much more like to say something like, "OW! Was that your dad talking for a sec?" and help me than to just go on assuming I'm an asshole. 😆

[exiledelle]

ended up getting VERY distracted and did not touch up the sprites like i thought i would but whatever its fine anyway, finally,

undertale yellow vengeance au mew mew (UNDERTALE YELLOW SPOILERS AHEAD)

id also like to note real quick: asks ARE open if anyone has anything theyd like to ask about the au

with undyne taking up the throne after asgores murder, the royal guard would be left with an opening for her position.

question is: whos the best fit to take it? the dogs, despite their rank and despite the undergrounds more negative tone from asgores death and the souls being stolen, are still too playful to really fit the role of Fearsome And Commanding Captain... red, without martlets push, joined a little too late to get the chance to prove herself as a potential captain, and probably wouldnt have the same ambition for the guard as she usually does, getting to know the rest of the guard less due to the atmosphere... and papyrus...undyne would never let it happen.

without many potential candidates left....what about undynes own training dummy?

a little different than undynes used to, coming across her new body sooner than usual due to undynes leave, and the general sense of emptiness following that until she spots it

but once shes acquainted with the body and challenges herself to undyne, id bet shed end up being a surprise pick (so in this au, she is)

maddy shares the violent passion undyne has, she has experience training with undyne,

...and of course it helps that her cool new body is robotic and can support attaching various forms of weaponry. that might give her just a bit of an edge. who knows.

her body in this au also isnt the exact same mew mew animatronic as it is in canon. its BUILT from it, but due to the undergrounds situation, alphys reluctantly decided to bite, and heavily modified the oversized doll, with the help of some generous inspiration (stolen blueprints) from the old security bot prototypes in the steamworks, after being permitted to investigate them once monsters realized it had mysteriously been turned on.

so maddy is now combat-ready, her body being faster, more durable, easily modifiable, AND strategically detachable and reattachable (the limbs, that is, her idea). and of course, still cute, maddy was very insistent that it stays cute

its unclear how many weapons shes currently hiding, but whenever shes asked, she just maniacally laughs. ...so no one ever asks...

she also prefers the title of "admiral" over captain, which undyne allows. as far as the guards concerned, its the same thing.

she also directly oversees papyrus' watchmen duties, as per undynes request, and the two end up hanging out fairly often whenever she has spare time since maddy doesnt really have anyone else whos available, and papyrus has no issues with her (hes Very hard to displease), plus nothing really happens, at least until clover pursues frisk out of the ruins.

thats about all ive got. honestly i cant think of many other major character stuff for the au, so the last character post could be clover (and frisk, double feature, why not) whenever i decide to make that, unless that changes. im not sure if ill make any big posts surrounding locations, but i do have some small ideas for minor new locations to go with the other changes, so we'll see if i ever bring those up.

for now though, other than asks if anyone has any, im probably gonna be a bit quiet on this au since im currently in other, very unrelated interest swings, like risk of rain :p

[and-then-there-were-n0ne]

Eric Hoffer was a longshoreman-turned-philosopher.

In 1941, he wrote “My writing is done in railroad yards while waiting for a freight, in the fields while waiting for a truck, and at noon after lunch. Towns are too distracting.”

Ten years later, Hoffer’s masterpiece The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements was published when he was in his late forties. Its unexpected success led him to later be appointed as an adjunct professor at University of California, Berkeley.

A slim volume, The True Believer was a favorite of President Dwight Eisenhower, who regularly gifted copies to friends. The British philosopher Bertrand Russell was also an enthusiast of Hoffer’s book. The author and conservative commentator William F. Buckley Jr. described The True Believer as “deeply provocative.”

It’s one of my favorite nonfiction books.

Hoffer’s unusual background as a manual laborer and member of the working class helped to fuel his unique psychological and sociological insights which people continue to mine to this day.

Today, political polarization is at its peak. Out-party hate is now more powerful than in-party love as a predictor of voting behavior in the United States.

Eric Hoffer's ideas are more relevant than ever.

Eric Hoffer made the case that if you peel back the layers of any mass movement, you will find that frustration is their driving force.

Frustration, though, doesn’t arise solely from bleak material conditions. The dockyard philosopher argued that “Our frustration is greater when we have much and want more than when we have nothing and want some. We are less dissatisfied when we lack many things than when we seem to lack but one thing.”

He points out in the years leading up to both the French and Russian Revolutions, life had in fact been gradually improving for the masses. He concludes, “It is not actual suffering but the taste of better things which excites people to revolt” and that “The intensity of discontent seems to be in inverse proportion to the distance from the object fervently desired.”

Personally, I saw this when I first arrived at Yale. I recall being stunned at how status anxiety pervaded elite college campuses. Internally, I thought, “You’ve already made it, what are you so stressed out about?” Hoffer, though, would say these students believed they had almost made it. That is why they were so aggravated. The closer they got to realizing their ambitions, the more frustrated they became about not already achieving them.

Hoffer’s conceptions of frustration highlight how if your conditions improve, but not as much or as quickly as you’d like, you will be vulnerable to recruitment by mass movements that promise to make your dreams come true.  

In Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote, “When inequality is the general law of society, the most blatant inequalities escape notice. When everything is virtually on a level, the slightest variations cause distress. That is why the desire for equality becomes more insatiable as equality extends to all.” For Hoffer, this insatiability cultivates frustration—a nebulous, simmering emotional state that can be harnessed by any ideology.

He describes what has now become known as the “Tocqueville effect”: A revolution is most likely to occur after an improvement in social conditions. As circumstances improve, people raise their expectations. Societal reforms raise reference points to a level that is usually not matched, eliciting rage and frustration.

In addition to the fact that reality seldom matches expectations, frustration also originates in a deep sense of dissatisfaction within oneself. We see this in the rise of social movements across the U.S., where individuals across the political spectrum feel disillusioned by their current situation, leading to a strong desire for dramatic change.

Hoffer argued that mass movements consciously attempt to cultivate and exploit frustration among their members. This helps to fuel their existence. The promotion of frustration is not incidental but is in fact the result of competition: movements that effectively nurture frustration outperform others by attracting and retaining the most fervent members.

In a passage that is reminiscent of today’s idea of the “horseshoe theory” (political extremes have more in common with one another than with moderates), Hoffer wrote that, “When people are ripe for a mass movement, they are usually ripe for any movement...In pre-Hitlerian Germany, it was often a toss up whether a restless youth would join the Communists or the Nazis.” Indeed, the official figure from the original paramilitary wing of the Nazi Party was that fifty-five percent of their members were former communists. According to Rudolf Diels, head of the Gestapo in 1933-1934, the actual figure was seventy percent.

According to The True Believer, the shared factor among extreme mass movements is not ideology or practice but a shared hatred for the present and a yearning for a (subjectively defined) utopian future.

In the marketplace of ideologies, the dogma that is most effective at harvesting emotional discontent often prevails. The danger of mass movements lies in their ability to manipulate these frustrations. Hoffer argues that these movements purposely foster frustration and dissatisfaction, pushing their members further into their cause. This, in turn, deepens their commitment, keeping them in a state of perpetual discontent and thus, devotion to the movement that promises to liberate them.

The formula goes something like this. Mass movements that are good at what they do make previously content individuals frustrated and further frustrate their adherents while pretending to advance the movement. This means that the strongest mass movements are inevitably going to be the ones that are the best at not delivering the goods. Any movement that actually advances the interests of its frustrated supporters will make them less frustrated. Hence, they’ll stop being members.

A core aspect of Hoffer's argument is that the root of frustration lies not just in external circumstances or “the system,” but fundamentally in the burdens of being an individual. Outsourcing decisions about your life to the movement comes as a relief. While practical organizations (e.g., an employer) cater to self-interest and offer opportunities for self-advancement, a mass movement appeals to those who wish to escape or camouflage an unsatisfactory self. Mass movements hold the implicit promise of fulfilling the desire for self-renunciation. [...] One sentence in the book summarizes the idea: “Faith in a holy cause is to a considerable extent a substitute for the lost faith in ourselves.”

The book goes on, “A man is likely to mind his own business when it is worth minding. When it is not, he takes his mind off his own meaningless affairs by minding other people’s business.” [...]

In one of the book’s most famous passages, Hoffer wrote “Hatred is the most accessible and comprehensive of all unifying agents...Mass movements can rise and spread without belief in a God, but never without a belief in a devil.”

For mass movements, hatred serves a useful purpose. It’s the glue that binds the disgruntled members together, turning them into a focused, potent force. The collective enemy helps maintain an atmosphere of constant alertness. It does not only keep the followers united, but it also attracts new members who share similar fears. Hatred fosters an atmosphere of persistent threat that can never be entirely overcome.

Hoffer writes that “in a mass movement, the air is heavy-laden with suspicion…the faithful strive to escape suspicion by adhering zealously to prescribed behavior and opinion…strict orthodoxy is as much the result of mutual suspicion as of ardent faith.” [...]

In a notable historical illustration of a mass movement using a “belief in a devil” as a limitless source of ideological fuel, consider the case of the “Recalling Bitterness” campaign in Maoist China. In the 1960s, the communist dictator Mao Zedong grew worried that ordinary Chinese citizens were developing lukewarm attitudes about the socialist revolution. In response, the regime forced people into rituals in which they publicly announced how bad life was before they had been liberated. Mao ordered writers and artists to rewrite history through the lens of class struggle to suit the needs of his political agenda. Regime officials held meetings encouraging peasants to describe how much better life was now compared to pre-liberation, hoping to convince them that the revolution’s successes outnumbered its failures. The “devils” here were reactionaries, landlords, rich farmers, and counterrevolutionaries. Documenting the rituals of the Recalling Bitterness campaign, the historian Guo Wu has written, “Only poor peasants were allowed to speak; former landlords and rich peasants were silenced.”

Rewriting history to demonize selected groups is an effective way to promote unity within a mass movement.

For Hoffer, the deliberate cultivation of fear and hatred serves to justify increasingly terrifying levels of cruelty and violence. The individual, convinced of his or her guiltlessness, relinquishes agency to the movement. This is yet another example of escaping the burden of the self.

These activities, Hoffer proposes, often manifest as futile tasks that seem to address problems but in fact accomplish little of substance. Rather than confronting the system they oppose, mass movements often end up targeting irrelevant figures or groups, engaging in meaningless protests, or turning on each other. Ironically, because the movement accomplishes so little, they ultimately give rise to increased fanaticism. This leads to further persecution in the quest to find a scapegoat to hold accountable for the failures of the movement.

A strong community can counter the attraction of mass movements. When people feel a sense of belonging, this can guide them away from falling into the trap of large collectives that dissolve individual identities. In our modern world, where traditional forms of community are fraying, and many feel unfulfilled by their work, the appeal of mass movements is amplified. Such movements thrive on shared frustrations.

Mass movements are not exclusive to the modern age. The True Believer, written in the mid-twentieth century, suggests that modernizing forces provide a fertile ground for their proliferation due to the lack of meaningful work, a sense of community, and an overarching sense of meaning in life.

Community is a safeguard against frustration. Hoffer suggests that those who see themselves as part of a close-knit group are less likely to be attracted to mass movements. The sense of accountability that comes from being part of a community and the reciprocal actions required to sustain membership counters the urge to lose oneself in a larger collective identity. The book points out that although mass movements can be seen as a kind of community, they differ in that they require only belief and identity, rather than reciprocal obligations and accountability.

In addition to membership in a cohesive community, engaging in meaningful work provides a buffer against radicalization. This is one reason why mass movements attempt to undermine the value of work, or claim that anyone who earnestly and unironically participates in the system is a victim of false consciousness or propaganda or has somehow been duped. The aim is to position the members of the mass movement as those who are truly “in the know,” and to undermine their targets’ confidence and turn them into potential recruits. 

The True Believer advises against supporting organizations without clear, attainable objectives. The dockyard philosopher reminds us that we should be skeptical of mass movements without clearly defined goals. Often, the ostensible aim of large movements is some nebulous idea of improvement. But the practical, concrete outcome is frequently more frustration, more anger, and more agitation, which benefits the organization rather than those they purport to help.

[deyadee]

La La Land

Once I got around to watching it I can’t tell you how happy I was watching it. It had great songs, some funny moments, and I don’t remember being this happy watching a musical since maybe the first time I watched Chicago or Teen Beach Movie (yes I know I have shit taste). It was also probably one of the very few times I’ve been invested in a straight romance. Not saying that they’re bad, I usually find them kind of boring because I don’t route for them as hard. Maybe because the characters are more boring, or maybe because I always think “Oh they’ll definitely get together, because it’s a straight romance movie.” And then sunshine and rainbows forever. I still think those movies should exist, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t get as invested in them that often. With gay couples (even if I know they get together in the end) it feels like there’s an even lower chance they’ll get together or they have to go through even more just to be together. Or maybe it’s just because how I said that one time that straight romance sometimes feels like it’s bragging about how perfect their relationship is.

This time I was HOOKED. I feel like I could relate to the characters and it made my heart soar as they were getting closer to each other. Maybe it was better writing, or better characters, or because the main characters have some kind of obsession and passion they can’t get rid of- I don’t know but I was so engrossed in this movie I couldn’t stop watching. I have a short attention span so usually I get distracted by other things like my phone or doing chores but this time it was like I was addicted to every second of it.

My family came home about half-way through it and I told my mom about how good it was to that point. I mean I knew eventually it was going to have some conflict between them because every romance movie had that, but I thought it would be like every other conflict and get sorted out. I thought they would achieve their dreams and ride off into the sunset in each other’s arms.

Then I watched the rest. They fought, of course, and they argued. They came close to giving up their dreams but they always would come back to build each other up and encourage one another to keep pursuing their dreams. Things were looking up and my heart was soaring, and I felt so happy that I felt like I wasn’t even real.

For the past while I’ve been feeling useless. I’m not working right now, I can’t drive, barely any friends, I have no partner, I have no ambitions or dreams, I live with my parents, I’m just a waste of human life. Though I’ve been working on two stories recently and my friends have been cheering me on saying my writing is really good. I even started working on a project I abandoned a long time ago. I’ve been dragging myself to work on the parts I haven’t wanted to work on recently and feeling like I’m doing all of this for nothing. Like all of my work was just a waste of time. Like no one would know it exists outside of my extremely small circle. There’s thousands of stories and things out there for people to compare it to. There’s so many people who are better than me at everything. Everything I do is just fucking trash compared to literally everyone else around me. So to see this movie and have the main characters say that you can do anything and people WILL like it as long as you keep trying, it really made me feel like I wasn’t completely useless for once.

And then the ending hit me like a truck. Sure. They got their club and their acting career. But they weren’t together. I thought maybe part of the end was that she was just imagining all of the stuff with her new husband. But no. That’s real. And they didn’t end up together. She ends up with some random fucking boring ass dude and they smile at each other and that’s it.

I’m lucky I have enough self-restraint to not break fucking everything around me. I just wanna chuck something at the goddamn wall. Light it on fire and watch it burn.

I know I’m being fucking Overdramatic, but if this were the first time you got this invested in anyone- if you felt that inspired from the “you CAN make it” message only for them to say “Nah fuck you, it’s reality hun nothing works out how you want. You’ll die alone working at a fucking McDonald’s you ugly hag.” You’re gonna be a little pissed.

Then when I look up how people thought about it in case there’s some after-credits scene that makes it better- and every fucking musical fan is like “Oh I loved the ending, it’s so bittersweet and more realistic.”

Bitch. This is the fucking movie where a magical little meet-cute happens and they fall in love. Where people burst into choreographed song and dance. Where they fucking float into space. Where a girl brings fucking tap shoes with her to dance with a random guy in the middle of the street. I DON’T NEED GODDAMN REALISM IN MY FUCKING MUSICAL WHORE.

Of course no wonder why it won a billion fucking awards because it suckers you in with hope and fucking crushes it before your eyes. I know I’m biased because I like a lot of saccharine sweet musicals with happy endings even to people who are some of the worst people of all time, but my blood is still boiling thinking of this fucking ending.

Like ok, I love MHA and I ship BakuDeku. The manga recently ended and they didn’t get together. Was I surprised? No. Did I care? No. It was just a cute ship that I knew wasn’t going to happen. They weren’t even friends for the majority of the series. I didn’t expect them to change the series to make the ship work, nor do I want them to. But I can understand the DekuOcha shippers getting mad because they spent the entire series teasing the relationship only to be like “Eh, nah.”

Like at a certain point that’s just being a dick to your audience, isn’t it?

So yeah, I just wanted to rant about it. I’m probably just going to keep listening to “Another Day of Sun” and pretend it’s its own little short musical because thinking about the rest hurts my chest.

I want to die, and it’s so fun to see a movie kind of validated my self-loathing, in my eyes at least.

[sniper-childe]

Hello! I’d like to share some of my notes if I were to Beta-read the most recent Archon Quest. I will be going through what worked, what could be taken out, and what could’ve been better. Note that I’m looking at this through an editor’s lens so I’m going to try NOT to change the plot we were given no matter what my opinions are about it BUT some of the said opinions may slip out.

Also, a bit of a disclaimer: I know that Genshin isn’t an actual literary work but miHoYo is known for its writers’ great storytelling and I’ve always loved their work so it really came as a surprise as to what happened to the mess that is Inazuma Act 3. So yeah.

Contains:

1. What was foreshadowed about the characters and why the payoff of their portrayals felt cheap.

a. About Kokomi and the rebellion.

b. About the Fatui, the James Bond villain wannabe.

c. About Ei and the Raiden Shogun.

2. How Chapter 2, Act 3 could have been the turning point that would have us, as the Traveler, cement our perceptions of the Archons and Gods of Celestia OR what I think the death of Signora was supposed to be but was undermined by this one tidbit.

BONUS: I wrote this before Kokomi’s story quest was released but decided to wait for it before posting. And guess what? I think Kokomi’s Story Quest works better as an Archon Quest. At least, some parts of it.

miHoYo teased us this intelligent leader of the resistance that is well-versed in the Art of War. The end of Ch2: Act 2 showed us a powerful Kokomi. So why was she sidelined all throughout the act?

I actually like the idea of the resistance asking the Fatui for aid. But miHoYo chickened out and made it so that they did it unknowingly. To which I say: how? If Kokomi was so smart she should’ve known better. I figured it was the Fatui within a single sentence, so why didn’t Kokomi?

They should’ve stuck with the concept of the underdogs – or in Kokomi’s words, the little fish – of war in an act of desperation. They could’ve shown a calculated Kokomi “making a deal with the devil” and will do anything to win the fight against the Shogunate.

In her Character Teaser, she was willing to burn the enemies’ supplies – to starve the enemy. She can be ruthless, that’s why Kokomi actively giving Delusions to her foot soldiers would have made much more sense to cause the Fatui to be involved rather than the whole “the Fatui orchestrated everything” schtick.

Which brings me to my next point: when did the Fatui turn into a James Bond villain? I hate that trope so much. It’s like the Deus Ex Machina of villainy. It’s lazy. And it doesn’t even fit the Fatui’s modus operandi.

In the prologue, the Abyss Order corrupted Dvalin and the Fatui was just there waiting to steal Barbatos’ gnosis while the Knights are distracted. Morax decided to retire one day so the Fatui swept right in and offered a test of Liyue in exchange for his gnosis.

The last two locations had their own story to tell while the Fatui was just in the background like the opportunistic antagonist that they are.

It also would have been a stronger plotline to have the already set lore – like the tenuous relationship between Watatsumi and Narukami – be the driving force of the Inazuman Civil War.

The prologue and chapter 1 also delivered what we are told we’re going to get in the Story Preview. That’s why they are satisfying. However, with chapter 2, the way it ended turned out to be more about the Fatui rather than “what do mortals see of the eternity chased after by their god.”

Sure, we got the consequences of the war in the World Quests and some of it in the second act. But making the Fatui the Big Bad in the end takes value away from the actions of the characters that are supposed to be the main feature of this chapter.

How much of the Eternity the Raiden Shogun is pursuing is directly from Ei? How much of it is its own understanding of eternity, coupled with Ei’s memories, and its own response? How much of it is the Fatui’s influence?

I have to say though, I’m fine with the puppet actually. Believe it or not. I have had kinda figured that out with the weird shifting of emotions in and out of the puppet. And the dead glowing eyes. So kudos to the design and animation team for that foreshadowing.

It was also said that the current Electro Archon lost someone dear to her and, while I didn’t think it was a twin, I did figure that the current Electro Archon wasn’t the real Electro Archon. So the whole Baal and Beelzebul backstory didn’t really surprise me. So I guess that was foreshadowed too? But my friends didn’t feel the same way so I don’t know. I’m not touching that.

But I do agree that all of the new lore got info-dumped to us by Yae rather than have us find out about them. To be honest, I would have wanted the backstory of Ei to be in her story quest rather than it be in the Archon Quest. A World Quest could work too.

I just feel like the 2.1 Archon Quest ended up cramming so many themes and subplots when it should’ve been focusing on what was promised: the darkness that is brought by their god.

They already had set up the Visions are people’s motivations/ambitions and that taking them away also takes away their agency.

Then they could’ve played with the idea of the people of Watatsumi looking up to Kokomi as their pseudo-god in-place of Orobashi and so with her actively giving Delusions could fit well in the said theme.

They could’ve made Ei and Kokomi character foils of each other and have the final showdown be about them.

And then it’ll all, of course, end up with the people of Inazuma learning how to work without their “gods” or something like that, which is the overarching theme of the whole series if you think about it.

But as I said, my opinions about the plot shouldn’t matter and I’m only here to make what was already written better.

So let’s talk about something that the puppet has done which didn’t make any sense on the surface level but could’ve been clever if it was done right. Killing La Signora.

Okay. So there is a pivotal moment at the end of the first arc of a three-act story where the main character experiences something that will leave them no choice but to move forward. This usually is a physical thing like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. But it can also be a mental or emotional situation.

Over at Honkai, the first arc ended with the death of a beloved mentor and a shattered world (both external and internal). The characters had no choice but to step up and “to stay alive, bravely” (yes, I won’t stop using this line ever). It was so very well done and even after so many years it still hurt no matter how many times you reread/rewatch the scene.

This reread value is what shows how much a twist is well written.

And that is what miHoYo is known for. So I had high expectations with the plot twist (technically this pivotal moment is called a plot twist because it twists the feel and/or pace of the story). Chapter 2 is the perfect spot to end the first act of a seven-chaptered story. So I’m really preparing myself for the inevitable twist.

But then we ended up with Signora’s death.

Okay. So. They could have used that to show us, as the traveler, how Archons and Celestial beings are unfeeling and not to be trusted. We were told this repeatedly by Dainsleiff and by the Abyss Twin. But it is only textbook writing 101 to show NOT tell.

And Signora’s death could have been this portrayal. Although, to be honest, it would have been more impactful if the one who died is a friend of the Traveler.

Them seeing someone die at the hands of an Archon could have their idea of gods shift. Because there is no turning back once you see the proof right in front of your eyes.

But instead, the puppet did it. So what was the point of Signora’s death if not just a power demonstration? We already knew that the Raiden Shogun is powerful. So why did Signora have to die?

Sure, one can argue that the puppet was enacting the Ei’s will so maybe there was a point. But! In Ei’s story quest, we were told that the puppet would have no hesitation when it comes to killing whereas Ei can show mercy.

Which begs, again, the question: how much of the Raiden Shogun’s actions is a reflection of Ei’s will, and how much of it is a logic response of an artificial intelligence from Ei’s memories?

Honestly? I don’t like that they killed off Signora. It doesn’t feel right. I would’ve taken Beidou’s death over Signora’s no matter how much I love Beidou. There was just no build-up to it and it feels weak. I… didn’t feel anything besides confusion. The anger only came later because of the wasted potential.

But overall, I do think they could’ve made it work if it were actually Ei doing the killing.

--

So I just did Kokomi’s Story Quest and man. The soldiers wanting to continue the war is what they really should have made the motivations of the actual war rather than have it as a post-war response and then have Kokomi fix their mess.

Seriously. While it was really interesting to see the usual trauma response of soldiers who had only known war their whole life, they wasted this idea, man.

Before doing the Archon Quest I had thought that the Watatsumi had a hand on the Vision Hunt Decree. Because if I were a tactician, I would have made something to anger the people of my enemies and have them have their internal issues. And while the Shogunate is weak, that’s when I will strike and claim Inazuma for my people and my god.

Then Orobashi will rise once more.

Yep.

Obviously, I really wanted Kokomi to be a more active character in the Archon Quest.

Anyways. If you reached the end, thank you for reading this ~1.5k words of musings. Tell me what you think. Or don’t. You do you.

[starsheild]

Prize- Pt 1- Dominate

Shouts and cheers echoed down into the holding chamber. Jazz hated the noise. The trumpets that announced the beginning of the next round, a mockery of the music that Jazz once loved. The door the holding room opened and Jazz rose with a small sound of surprise as he motioned forward.

“Change of plans.” Those glyphs caught Jazz’s attention, and he looked over Sawtooth. Though not particularly bright, Jazz preferred this particular mech to the most of the other handlers. He had no ambition beyond doing his job, collecting his pay, and drinking it away on his megacycles off. He also addressed most of the gladiators in the stable as though they were mecha. “Master shuffled you around be in this match instead.”

While technically against the official rules to substitute one combatant for another once the card was set, there were exceptions. Particularly if one knew which servos to grease.

“Any idea why?” Jazz asked, possibilities racing through his processor.

“One of the visiting lords donated a prize, and it was assigned to this match. A new breeder, rare frame. Chopper wants him, something about his codeline, and you're a much better fighter than Slamdance.”

Well, that was truth. And Jazz knew enough to read between the layers, and his spark sank. So this was a prize match. Up until now Jazz had not been a participant in one of these. In a way, he wished he was still faced with a simple straight match. He hadn’t even seen one, only heard of them. If Chopper was putting him in this, he was expecting Jazz to win, and to breed the prize.

“You should be proud, moving up like this so quick.” Sawtooth commented offhandedly as he directed Jazz with a way of his servo. “Moving up fast, even in a stable small as this one. Win, and I bet Chopper will reward ya good. He’s been talking about getting his servos on a good breeder for a while, and now he’s got the chance to win one.”

Jazz’s spark sank even lower at that thought. Another mech, forced into this pit of an existence-

“Right. Hold still.” Sawtooth ordered, and Jazz came back to his surroundings with a start. The solid bars of the holding pen surrounded them, and Jazz obediently went still, this routine familiar. Only instead of reaching for collar Sawtooth raised an injector and pressed it against one of the main energon lines in Jazz’s neck.

Before Jazz could react there the hiss of the injector and heat began to spread though his frame. He felt the collar release, and he turned his helm to question Sawtooth, only to find the mech retreating the quickly, just sliding through the door as it closed. Jazz frowned. This was not the usual routine. He wasn’t one of the beserkers.

The trumpets heralded again, and Jazz’s helm whipped around as the gate front of the holding pen opened and light flooded the room. Along with something else…

At first it was just a vague scent that tickled at his sense, tugging at him oddly. Jazz followed it without conscious processing, homing in on it as it grew stronger with each step he took in to the arena. His optics swept the arena, the roar of the crowd flooding his audio sensors but doing little to distract from this new sensation. It was the same arena had fought in so many times before, the firm footing beneath his pedes, the wall barricade interspersed with gates and doors ringing the open space, the force shield that rose from the wall as barrier between the action in the arena and the crowd of spectators…

While the floor of the arena was occasionally altered with the addition of obstacles or different footings to make matches more interesting, the current centerpiece was something that Jazz had never seen before. As approached he realized that was where the alluring scent was coming from. He slipped closer to investigate, peering through the wide spaced bars.

Inside was a mech, a Praxian. A very beautiful Praxian. The mech’s wings rose from where he was restrained, flicking around. The mech raised his helm when he sensed Jazz, crystal blue optics that were bright and feverish meeting Jazz’s gaze and something snapped into place in Jazz’s processor. 

The mech was cycling.

And Jazz wanted him.

The injection. Jazz had been drugged. He shook his helm violently, trying to clear it, trying to fight the heat raging through his frame and clouding his processor. He was better than this. He had been raised better than this!

He growled, and flinched and spun at the answering growl behind him.

A large mech, half again as tall as Jazz and twice as broad, stalked toward him. Fevered red optics burned with aggression, and the mech roared.

Jazz roared in return as twin knives dropped from their sheaths on his arms into his servos. A challenger. Another mech going for Jazz’s prize. He would not allow it. The mech in the cage, the one that smelled so sweet and looked so good, he belonged to Jazz. No one was going to take him from him.

The next thing that his processor registered at all was the challenger at his pedes, not offline, but not in any condition to continue to fight. That suited Jazz just fine. He had better uses for his attention and his energy. The knives were resheathed as Jazz turned and strutted back towards the cage.

He rumbled proudly as he approached, loud enough for his prize to hear. The barriers that had blocked his way before fell before his approach, and somehow he managed to stand even taller. His prize lifted his helm when Jazz touched the bold red chevron that graced the mechs forehelm, and Jazz leaned in to claim a kiss.

“Mine.”

The other whined into the kiss, the whine taking on form as Jazz drew back.

“Help. Please…”

“I will.” Jazz purred, rising and circling around the mech’s back, servo stroking a doorwing. In the back of his processor something felt wrong, screamed at him, but the sound was drowned out the fire in his frame. This was his prize. He had won, and he was going to take what was his.

“Mine.”

[knchins]

Manager’s Special - Seijoh 4

Summary: Being the manager of Seijoh University's boy's volleyball team meant filling their every need. But can you satisfy all four seniors at the same time or will you break trying?

Pairing: Oikawa x Fem!Reader x Iwa x Mattsun x Makki

Rating: E+

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings:  Degradation/Humiliation, Oral sex (giving/receiving), Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Triple? Penetration (I technically don't view this as triple but some might), Squirting, Vaginal/Anal fingering, Unprotected sex, Gangbang (obvs), Blindfold usage, Spit (just a little), A smidgen of dubcon if you squint, Overstimulation, Mindbreak??, Aftercare, and Oikawa being a total Asshole

Notes: This is completely self indulgent and I don’t apologize for it one bit.

 Since earning the head manager position of Seijoh University’s boys volleyball team, you had learned to keep a tight schedule. It could be very hard work at times, but honestly it was very rewarding and the experience was worth the late nights and early mornings. It was an honored title that many girls strived for year after year. You had been merely an assistant your first two years of college and now, finally, your tenacity had paid off. You were number one and with it you held a whole new set of responsibilities.

 Because while you did the duties of a normal manager, at Aoba Johsai, female managers also held a very...important role. They were in charge of making sure all of the senior players kept their head in the game and stayed at the pique of physical fitness. This meant that you were in charge of making sure all of their needs were met.

 Every. Single. One.

 And you had quickly found that the four seniors you were in charge of satiating this year were particularly hungry for one thing and one thing only. You.

 Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa all had their own unique interests and tastes. They fought for your affection, sometimes making you feel pulled into four different directions at once. It got so bad that they had to roll die to see who could have you first. There were prime time slots in your schedule, after all, and everyone wanted to be the one to hold it. Weekends were especially cut throat among them and it was finally decided on an even rotation. Oikawa, since he was the captain, got the first weekend. Mattsun was second. Iwaizumi third, and lastly Hanamaki. You never had a moment to yourself it seemed like. The core four took up the entirety of your free time.

 But you knew what the job demands were before you took it. You agreed to this. If only you had known how draining it would be. You couldn’t have imagined the sexual appetites of athletes being this overwhelming. If only there was time to recuperate. Time and time again they worked you to tears. Multiple times a week you’d be left overstimulated and so incredibly full of cum. But none of that could have prepared you for what they had in mind for this particular Saturday.

 Makki was supposed to come over to your apartment alone that evening. You had the scene set the way you knew he liked it. Lights dim with a plethora of candles scattered across the bedroom. There was chilled sparkling water set on the bedside and a new bottle of lube. You had taken time to shower, scrubbing every inch of you clean for him. After drying yourself off, fixing your hair and putting on light natural looking makeup, you stepped into a nice little sheer white baby-doll nightie with nothing but a sea foam green thong underneath.

 After a look-over in your floor length mirror, you smiled with satisfaction. Makki was the gentlest of the four and usually he pampered a little more afterwards. It was the only time you get any semblance of rest. Maybe you could convince him to go easy on you too. Take things slow. He was the easiest to reason with and you had been looking forward to this all week.

 There was a knock at your front door and immediately you were thrown off. Each player had a unique knock to them, and what you just heard wasn’t Makki’s. It was the captain’s. Holding back a groan you padded to the door and looked through the peephole, seeing all four seniors gathered in the hallway.

 Confusion washed over you as you unlocked the door and slowly opened it. Oikawa looked particularly proud of himself, something that had your thighs clenching out of sheer habit. “Oikawa-san? Did something happen?”

 Iwaizumi forced the door open, making you take a step back as all four men walked in, putting down their things in the entryway before Hanamaki closed the door. They deposited their shoes at the doorway before Oikawa gave you some sort of answer. “I hate to do this to you, Cutie, I really do, but there’s something your Captain wants you to do for him.”

 His eyes scoured every inch of your body, making you suddenly feel incredibly self conscious. His tongue swiped over his lips, his facial expression absolutely predatory. Your cunt was already aching at the thought of him pounding into you. “W-What is it?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

 Oikawa began to circle around you as you noticed the others begin to slip off their shirts. You swallowed thickly, unable to look away from the sheer amount of tone muscle present before you now. You began to chew on your bottom lip, the taste of your lip gloss crawling onto your tongue. “We decided that we all want a turn with you tonight.” He said, stopping behind you and putting his hands on your hips. He pulled you back to him and you could feel his half-hard cock rutting into your ass as he leaned to speak in your ear. “They don’t think you can handle it, but I can.”

 He pressed a kiss just under your ear, teeth grazing the skin there as you felt the flimsy fabric of the thong dampen with your arousal. All four of them? At once? Your head span as you tried to conceive it, but the captain’s cock grinding into your ass was almost too distracting. He knew exactly what he was doing and you hated him for it. “I don’t think I- Ah!” He bit at your pulse point and you felt her knees begin to tremble from the sheer anticipation of him being inside you.

 One of his beautiful hands moved to push up the lightweight fabric of the baby-doll, his index finger finding your clit expertly and pressing into you with just the right amount of force that had you keening back against him. “Don’t you want to prove them right, my little manager? What happened to all of that ambition?”

 Three pairs of eyes were devouring you as Oikawa continued to press kisses into your throat. They all looked so starving. So      needy    . Who were you to deny your team? Your body was for their taking, that was what you had wanted since you were a freshman right? And now, with Oikawa’s fingers working over your swelling clit, mouth taking claim to your neck, you have no drive to tell them no. There was no chance of you resisting them. You sank into Oikawa’s hold and he knew instantly that you were admitting defeat. You’d take on all four of them, even if it broke you.

 Oikawa dragged you into the bedroom, his right hand never leaving its spot between your legs. When he finally released you, he pushed you gently onto the bed so that he could take off his shirt. The other three came into the room, Makki had already stepped out of his pants and as in nothing but his socks and boxer briefs.

 You turned onto your back, looking absolutely doe-eyed at the large men before you. Again you kept your legs pressed together, rubbing slightly to try and create some kind of friction that would lighten the ache in your core. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Iwa pull something out of your top drawer, and again you swallowed as you knew there could only be one thing he’d be looking for in there. The black silk blindfold you kept stashed away.

 “Hajime, please,” You cooed softly, feeling fear bubble in your abdomen at being blinded. He ignored your quiet plea, knowing that there wasn’t nearly enough fight behind it to be an actual revocation of consent. He came closer to you, making it easier for you to see the outline of his erection in his pants as he covered your eyes with the cloth and tied it around the back of your head.

 “Good thinking, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa chirped as he took off his pants. “Let’s play a game then, shall we, Manager-san?” He asked, glancing at the other guys. “If you can guess whose dick is in your pretty little mouth then you can get a reward. How does that sound?”

 His irritating voice did nothing but ignite your desires even further. You were pretty certain you knew each of them well enough by now to be able to tell the difference between the four. Besides, Oikawa always held to his word and rewards with him often meant a very intense orgasm.

 You felt a hand grab you by the shoulder and by the softness of it, you assumed it was Oikawa’s. His hands were always the most meticulously kept out of all of them. He forced you to your knees and your mouth opened as you presented your tongue to whoever was first in line.

 Mattsun decided to take initiative, his cock already out as he stroked it. He stepped up to you, guiding the tip into your warm, beckoning mouth. He clenched his teeth together to keep from making any sort of sound that may give him away. Although, he already had a disadvantage. Mattsun was the biggest lengthwise and second only to Iwa when it came to girth.

 He was unable to stop himself from sliding as much in as he possibly could, his tip rubbing the back of your throat as his hand pressed onto the top of your head. His hips rocked slowly, pulling him out a fraction before rutting back in. You swirled your tongue around him, suckling lightly (though it was enough to finally pull a groan from him). You were about to reach up and grab onto his scrotum when Oikawa stopped you. “No touching, Cutie.” He chided and you put your hand back down.

 After a minute of you attempting to work him over without the help of your hands, he pulled from you completely. Oikawa asked you who it was as you were unable to stop yourself from coughing with newfound freedom. After you had collected yourself, you finally answered him with a small smile. “Issei.” You said happily, knowing you were right.

 “Good job.” Mattsun breathed out as he stroked his length to keep it from going soft. “Maybe that was too easy for you, doll.” You shook your head, trying to deny that it wasn’t easy for you to figure it out. None of them believed you.

 The next cock to enter your mouth was slimmer and you quickly narrowed it down to either Makki or Oikawa. They were almost identical, though there was one difference that would give it away. One of them had a small scar at the base of their penis where they had a shaving accident in high school.

 You greedily took him in, drool spilling over your lips and down your chin as your tongue searched every centimeter for the small white line of tissue. You tried to mask what you were doing by sucking and moaning at the small thrusts, the pubic hair at the base ticking your nose as he forced his tip to your throat. He suddenly pulled out, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself any longer if he didn’t. “Takahiro.” You said before Oikawa could ask.

 Makki let out a small laugh. “I guess you know me too well, huh?” He asked, not expecting you to actually answer. You smiled, reaching up to rid your chin of the spit that had made its way down it. Though you were somewhat positive that it would be replaced very quickly.

 “Alright, princess, so no one gets left out you’ll do Iwa-chan and I at the same time.” Oikawa said and a small frown formed on your lips. There was no way      both     of them would fit inside of your mouth. How were you supposed to do this without your hands?

 Iwa huffed, obviously not wanting to share your mouth with his best friend but nevertheless not objecting to it. They both stepped before you. “Can I at least use my hands this time, Captain?” You asked, head tilted upwards as if you were looking up at them.

 “Yes, you can use your hands this time.” Oikawa said back, placing a delicate hand on top of your head to rub it soothingly. You were doing such a good job for him and he was making note to make sure you knew that next time you were alone together.

 Again you opened your mouth wide. Oikawa nodded to Iwa who gave a shallow thrust into your mouth. Your hand searched up the leg of the person to your left, finding the shaft of his penis and stroking it. The telltale ribbing of a small scar at the base of it. The same scar you had been searching for when you were blowing Hanamaki. Not only that but Iwa’s girth gave him away. Oikawa was slender and pretty, Iwa was thick and veiny. Telling the two apart was almost like night and day.

 You bobbed your head, keeping the same pace with your hand giving them both a moment to enjoy the sensation before switching sides. You kept one hand on the base of each cock, making it easier to switch quickly between the two. When you had finally set what you thought was the perfect rhythm, a steady hand stopped you. “Who is who?” Oikawa asked in a chipper voice, never one to be upset when his dick was getting serviced.

 “Tooru-kun, you’re on the left.” You said, “Hajime is on the right.”

 Oikawa chuckled, “Wow, what a good little manager you are. You know us all so well. Are you ready for your reward?” You nodded your head enthusiastically. “Alright, get up and lay back on the bed we’re going to take good care of you.

 He grabbed your hand, helping you to your feet and guiding you to the bed where you laid down. He wasted no time in reaching up and grabbing the thin elastic of your thing and sliding it down your legs, enjoying the sight of the middle sticking to your slick folds for a moment before pulling free.

 Mattsun took position to your right, Makki your left, and Iwa was hovering over you, grabbing either of your thighs and spreading them. His calloused hands felt like a stark contrast from Oikawa’s, a feeling that made you shiver and clench around nothing. The blindfold was taken from your eyes at once by Makki.

 Tooru lowered his face to your core, giving you a nice slow cat lick up your slit that had you quaking in Iwa’s grasp. Mattsun forced the top of your babydoll down, freeing your breasts from the see-through material. He ran a thumb over your right nipple while Makki began to kiss along the swell of your left breast.

 Your brain was in overdrive at all the different sensations going on. Oikawa’s tongue pressing into your folds, Iwa’s mouth peppering kisses along your thighs as he held them apart. Matsukawa’s fingers massaging your breast firmly while Hanamaki is sucking hickies into your other one. There was just too much going on, you felt like you were going to short circuit already. Every inch of you was quivering with delight.

 Oikawa latched onto your clit like a leech, sucking so roughly that he pulled a loud moan straight from your throat. Your hips bucked, kegels flexing as you nearly creamed then and there. Iwa bit into your thigh, the pain ripping through your leg. You cried out, trying to squirm out of his grasp but it was of no use. He was stronger than you by a long shot and there was no way you could possibly overpower all four of them at once.

 “T-Toru p-p-p-please!” You cried, tears filling your eyes as Mattsun’s mouth replaced his hand. You just needed something, anything, inside you. You didn’t really care what at this point.

 He removed his mouth from you, a lewd popping sound came as a result. He knew exactly what you wanted, a lecherous smile on his wet lips. “You gonna beg me princess?”

 Your reply came in a whimper, Mattsun’s teeth grazed one nipple as Makki was sucking on your other one, tongue swirling as if he were attacking your clit instead. “I-I need yo-you inside.” You pleaded with him, the desperate need to have your pussy filled growing even more. “Your fin-fingers. Ah!” You tossed your head back as Iwa licked at your clit now. It was hard to concentrate on anything, especially getting the words you wanted out.

 Oikawa was extremely proud of the sight before him. Iwa’s sideways position gave him enough room to slip in two fingers into your throbbing cunt, The long, slender digits going in gently and deeply. “My, my, Manager-san. My fingers are waterlogged in this cute pussy of yours. Are you that desperate to get off?”

 You were unable to respond, too busy concentrating on grinding your hips against Hajime’s mouth and his fingers at the same time. Oikawa pulled his fingers out before inserting them back in, they slid with ease due to the amount of slick that had accumulated between your legs. Your eyes were rolling back, body jerking beneath the three boys that were hovering over you. All coherent thoughts were gone as the team captain because to thoroughly fuck you with his fingers, his vice captain’s tongue tracing fast shapes around your sensitive clit. That along with the two mouths on your chest had you crying and cumming in no time at all.

 Oikawa pulled his soaked fingers from you, inserting them into his mouth to clean them off with his tongue. He savored the taste of your cum, giving a small hum of appreciation at both the taste and the sight of you panting and teary-eyed. “Is our little cum dumpster okay? We haven’t even filled you up yet.”

 The sarcasm of his voice and sudden removal of Iwaizumi’s grip had your legs slamming shut, not wanting anyone to see how turned on you still were. How much you still needed them to satisfy you. The slutty desperation making your heart pound even harder within your chest. How much more of this relentless teasing could you take before breaking completely? You had no idea. “Fill...Fill me up, Captain.” You said between heavy breaths, eyes glossy with saline and want.

 He laughed, “Makki, tonight is supposed to be your night. You can choose what order we go in.” At least Oikawa could be fair when it came to his teammates. Too bad he wasn’t when it came to you.

 Hanamaki thought about it for a moment. “We should switch halves. Mattsun and I will fuck her while you two can have her hands and mouth.” He brushed your hair back, a small smile on his face. “I know she can take it.”

 He maneuvered himself so he was laying next to you so you could climb on top of him. Your teeth sank into your lip again as you positioned his tip at your entrance, slowly lowering yourself down. You couldn’t stop the moan from seeping out between your lips in the process of finally feeling completed. Makki pulled you down by your arm so your chest was against his.

 You hadn’t noticed Mattsun get up and grab the bottle of lube. He generously coated two fingers as he got behind you. He watched as Makki’s dick spread your lips apart, his dick disappearing inside of you in slow shallow thrusts. His own cock was throbbing painfully at this point, begging for release.

 Instead of touching himself, he inserted his two fingers into your ass. You let out a hiss of pain, the muscles burning at the sudden stretch. Hanamaki was whispering sweet things into your ear to help distract you, telling you how good you were doing for him. How amazing your soft pussy felt wrapped around him so tightly while Iwa was positioning himself at your head, stroking his cock is a slow languid motion.

 Oikawa had grabbed his phone and was now recording. He enjoyed nothing better than humiliating you by filming you in compromising positions. Most of the nights alone with him involved some sort of video equipment. Despite being hard and dripping precum onto your carpet, he seemed to totally ignore his erection and focus only on getting the perfect shot of you pleasuring his team.

 Mattsun continued to prep your ass, feeling your muscles beginning to relax around him. Makki kept his rhythm light, not wanting to jostle you around too much while his friend was getting you ready. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as you whimpered. He was being so gentle, too gentle. That wasn’t what you wanted. You were craving Mattsun’s brute force, the little whimpers coming from you only proving how ready you were.

 “Don’t leave her waiting, Mattsun.” Oikawa said. “She wants you to fuck her ass, can’t you see how much she needs it? Little cumslut can’t get off to just Makki treating her like a princess”

 Mattsun tutted, removing his fingers so that he could lube up his cock. Again he watched you take in every inch of Hanamaki like such a good little girl. He spit on your ass, letting it slide down your crack as he pressed his tip into your anus. Hanamaki was still as his friend pushed into you, leaving delicate kisses along your jawline.

 He let out a loud groan as his balls came into contact with your perineum. You fluttered around both of them, taking the moment to adjust to having two dicks inside of you instead of just one. And Mattsun was so big you thought he might rip you apart.

 Iwa was growing impatient, he pressed his tip against your lips and your tongue darted out to taste his precum. He grabbed a fistful of your hair as you opened her mouth fully for him. Makki and Mattsun still weren’t moving yet, simply enjoying the feeling of your body heat warming up their cocks.

 You tried to move your hips to feel something, anything. The neediness growing ever wilder within you. Oikawa watched with great delight, enjoying the muffled torture sounds coming from your mouth as you sucked on Iwa’s dick. “You want them to move, sweetheart?” He asked in a sickly sweet voice that was definitely anything but sincere.

 You whined loudly, despite your mouth being full. You attempted to nod your head but it was slight due to not wanting to hurt Iwa by accident though your teeth did graze him and he gave a warning tug on your locks. You looked up at him with an apologetic expression, gargling out a sorry that wasn’t really comprehensible.

 “You heard her, Matsukawa.” Makki said, his once sweet voice going sly. “She wants us to move.”

 Mattsun laughed darkly as he pulled back slowly before jerking his hips forward, roughly slapping into you. Searing heat and pain caused tears to once again spring to your eyes as Hanamaki began to move in sync with him with an almost equal amount of force. It took a moment for them to stop fumbling awkwardly with one another, trying to find a going pace that worked to both of their advantages. Once they found it though, it was nothing but bliss. Both your pussy and ass being fucked simultaneously while your mouth was stuff full had your eyes rolling back and drool slipping down your chin again.

 “Fuck it’s so tight.” Mattsun moaned, smacking your ass with a harsh slap before rubbing the area. “Why have you never let me fuck your ass before? You’ll be lucky if I ever use that used up pussy again.” He growled at you, making the welling tears finally fall down your face. They dripped down onto Makki, though he didn’t mind much at all.

 Iwa was forcing more and more of himself down your throat, gagging and choking you in the process until you could barely breathe. He was taking the liberty to fuck your mouth, allowing you to simply be another hole for his pleasure instead of an active participate in getting him off.

 Oikawa grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his dick. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stroke him due to your fucked out state of stupidity. He moved your hand for you, keeping it steady as he bounced his hips against your grip. “I get that ass next.” He said, “Iwa-chan, you can have Makki’s hole. I want her so full of cum that she won’t stop leaking for a week.”

 Makki increased his pace, forcing Mattsun to do so as well. The two dicks rubbing inside of you have a fast knot tightening in your lower abdomen. The thing that finally did you over was Makki reaching between the two of you and teasing your clit with the pads of his fingers. You were screaming around Iwa, eyes shut tight as you came for a second time, both holes spasming around your partners, pulling moans from them as you sucked them in more. It was enough to drive Makki to his peak as well, releasing inside of your cunt while Mattsun thrusted wildly, the sounds of his balls slapping against you was the loudest thing in the room at the moment. It only ceased when he finally came, pumping your ass so full of semen that it seeped out around his base.

 Iwa pulled his dick from your mouth and throat, allowing you to gasp and sob. You were already so incredibly overstimulated, you couldn’t imagine having to go yet another round. But you knew your captain and vice captain wanted to get off too. Oikawa’s dream of making you the sluttiest little cum dumpster in all of Japan was quickly coming true.

 Mattsun pulled out of you, enjoying the view one last time before stepping back and disappearing into the bathroom to clean up. Iwa moved to the side, ready to fuck you senseless again with growing impatience. Makki took one last breath, gave you one last sweet kiss, before slipping out from under you.

 Oikawa handed his phone to Makki so he could continue to film while he positioned himself under you. With Iwa’s help he had you sitting up and turned around so that your back was to him. “I think Mattsun lubed you up enough, Manager-san, don’t you think?” He asked, tip probing your dripping ass before suddenly dipping into you without warning. You cried out, almost not believing just how easily he slid right in. Since he was a bit smaller than Mattsun, it didn’t hurt at all for him to be inside all at once. The former had stretched you out too thoroughly.

 Iwa also wasted zero time in plugging you up, stopping anymore of Makki’s cum from escaping you. You were still crying and shaking, too overstimulated to say anything that made sense. Unlike Mattsun and Makki, they didn’t need time to sync up into a nice rhythm. They both went in hard and fast, almost competing with one another on who could be the most brutal.

 Oikawa’s hands were on your breasts, pulling at your nipples, “What a good girl, taking your captain and vice captain like this.” He said, holding back his own moans as he whispered into your ear. “Our little good luck charm. My cute little slut, you’ll do anything I ask of you won’t you?”

 Your answer was a strangled moan, throat still sore from Iwa’s previous abuse. You could tell Oikawa was struggling not to cum. Whenever he got too excited he had the tendency to lose control.

 Once again Iwa had a bruising grip on your thighs, keeping them nice and spread so he could easily see his handiwork, watching you take his thick cock as if it were nothing. The squelching sounds you were making had you feeling incredibly embarrassed, the way the previous boys’ cum had acted as lubricant for the two new ones. Oikawa and Iwa were pumping in and out effortlessly, working you over once again.

 “Iwa-chan, but your thumb on her clit, I bet she’ll squirt all over us if you do that.” Oikawa said, nipping at your ear as he tugged on your nipples again. Iwa reached down, pressing his thumb against the engorged bud and rubbing in fast tight circles. Your back arched, more sobs erupting as you felt another overwhelmingly powerful orgasm rip through you. You couldn’t stop the release of ejaculate as it squirted out of you, showering all three of you in the process, though Iwa got the brunt of it.

 Oikawa was laughing harshly, “Fuck princess, you’re just so goddamn dirty aren’t you? You like being stuffed like this? Will you ever be satisfied with just one again?” You shook, collapsed on top of him, unable to make any sound or even think straight. Your walls were still fluttering around him, hips jerking in tune with their thrusts. Iwa’s nails dragged across your skin, the pain not even enough to cause you to yelp like you normally would. A few pumps later and he was adding to the mess with his own cum, the warm liquid filling your pussy so beautifully for him as he pulled out.

 “Best for last.” Oikawa hissed, Flipping over so he could ravage you at a whole new angle. You couldn’t even hold yourself up, he had to do it for you as he rammed into you over and over. He wasn’t holding back anymore, hell you didn’t even know he      was     holding back before. He chased his own high, hitting his peak and pumping you full of even more white creamy liquid.

 He pulled out and gently laid your hips down onto the bed. You cried into the sheets, still feeling jerky from your own string of orgasms. It was over? Finally? You couldn’t believe that you had actually survived all four of them at once.

 Oikawa and Iwa began to clean themselves up as Makki put his captain’s phone away and went to pamper you with kisses. He turned you on to your back and spread your legs just enough so he could clean you up the best he could. Parts of the bed were soaked unfortunately, but Mattsun brought a clean towel to lay down over the puddles, moving you so that you were on top of the towel instead of the wetness.

 “Don’t forget, Makki, make sure she’s up tomorrow for practice.” Oikawa said in that sing-song voice of him. “Maybe we can have a round two in the equipment room.”

 You whimpered in protest as Hanamaki held you close to him. “He’s joking, love, don’t worry.” He whispered to you softly, knowing you were too outdone to do it again so soon.

 Iwa punched his shoulder roughly, “leave her alone, asshole.” He said threateningly, coming over to plant a light kiss on your forehead. “If you can’t come tomorrow, don’t stress it.” He said quietly enough that the only other person to hear him was Makki. He straightened up before shooting a glare at Oikawa.

 Oikawa frowned a bit at him before walking over to you. “Good job, princess. I knew you could do it. You made your captain so proud tonight.” He cooed softly, petting your head. “I’ll call you in the morning to check on you.” He placed a kiss identical to Iwa’s onto your forehead. “Makki is going to take good care of you tonight.” He assured before standing up once more. “Let’s go, Iwa-chan. I’m hungry.”

 The two started bickering as they left. Mattsun cleaned up around the room a little more before, wishing you a farewell before leaving. Hanamaki continued to whisper to you about how amazing you were and how thankful he was for letting them do this. He didn’t stop until you finally lost your battle with sleep, cuddled up next to him and clinging to him for safety.

 And the next day you definitely didn’t show up to practice.

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Tag List: @dabi-hates-fish​, @hawksward​, @drxwsyni​

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

[kerie-prince]

change of pace

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!reader

requested: (@pinkdevile) hey bae, can i request a one shot or headcanon about fred being whipped by one of ron classmates that is a non-pureblood slytherin and kind of prodigy in magic and how would he react to her being a typical dry slytherin and being a prodigy and good at everything?

summary: What happens when a red lion who lives in the moment falls for a green snake with plans for her future? Romance, of course.

a/n: stereotypical, yes but i had fun writing this :) also, i know my posting schedule keeps changing, so sorry about that 🥺 i got lots of requests (thank you guys SO much!) and i'm trying to not make them all sound the same. i'm looking up synonyms and all that stuff lol

(gif cred)

You were the least Slytherin person in your house. But maybe that's made you even more of a Slytherin. Your traits were that of a typical member of the house of snakes. No, you weren't a rude bitch; you had ambition that rivaled that of a Gryffindor and it wasn't even one of their traits. You aimed for the stars and your pride proved that you could do that and more. You are the best witch of your class, and maybe even your school.

And it was this reputation that caught the attention of someone who is quite the polar opposite. You were calm and collected. He was a wild card and unpredictable. Fred Weasley had his eyes on you and was going crazy for you. It all started when one day, he was with his friends and brothers in the Great Hall during lunch when you had walked up to Ron and Harry, “Hey Ron, were my notes able to help you?”

“Yeah, loads. Thank you, Y/N.” Lee was in the middle of a conversation with his best friends when he noticed Fred wasn't responding to anything he was saying. “Mate, you okay?” When you walked to your table, Fred scooted closer to his younger brother, “Dearest brother, how are you?”

“What do you want?” Ron saw right through him. He knew when Fred wanted something from him, just like now.

“Well I’m offended that you would assume something,” Fred held a hand over his chest with a fake offended look on his face, “can’t a person ask about the well being of his baby brother?” Ron had a deadpan expression and Harry was laughing at Fred’s exaggeration. “Fair enough. Who was that?”

“Who? Y/N? She’s in mine and Harry’s class, why?” Ron had taken a large bite from his turkey leg.

“What’s she like?” Fred inquired. Ron thought about it for a minute, “Dunno, she’s pretty quiet.”

“If I didn't know any better, I’d say that Freddie here fancies someone,” George teased. The surrounding friends laugh and point towards Fred. “I don’t fancy anyone. I’m just asking a simple question.”

Hermione and Ginny later joined the group. “What’s all this fuss about?” Hermione questioned.

“Fred’s asking about Y/L/N,” Harry caught Hermione up to speed. “Why? You’re not thinking of doing anything to her, are you?” Hermione started to scold the older boy.

“Why is it that you lot always think I’m up to no good,” Fred sighed.

“Because you’ve never been up to any good,” Ginny teased her older brother. Fred rolled his eyes and turned back to try and find you at your table. You had a couple of friends with you and a small book in your hand as you ate. Fred was determined to get your attention somehow.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

You sat in the library by yourself. You had spent the majority of the afternoon grading first years’ papers for Snape’s class and working with Hermione and Katie on a project for Ancient Runes. Giving up your weekends to study wasn't all that bad. The feeling of being on top was rewarding.

It was funny; your parents had stopped caring about your grades all together because they already knew what they were going to read. Not that they weren't supportive or proud of you. At family gatherings on your father’s side, he loved seeing the looks on his relatives’ faces when he boasted that you were the best student at Hogwarts.

But they have told you on many occasions that it wouldn't kill you to have at least one E. They wanted you to be able to have a normal teen life and have fun. Go to parties, get in trouble every now and then. You assured them that you were fine and all and even believed it yourself. You never had interest in breaking the pattern you had set.

The library was nearing its closing time and you packed your things. When you walked out the grand doors, a tall figure came in front of you and nearly knocked down all the books you carried. His hands caught whatever you couldn't hold before it hit the floor.

“Sorry about that,” you looked up at the towering boy. Your breath slightly hitched at the sight of his attractive face. His cheekbones were defined and his skin looked soft. You didn’t realize that you were staring, nor that he was also staring at you as well. Finally, he spoke up and handed you the book he was holding for you. “I believe this is for you.”

His mouth moved, but you were so distracted that it didn't occur to you he had actually said anything until you saw him looking at you expectedly. “Oh, thank you.” You started heading towards the dungeons when he jogged towards and stopped in front of you. “Aren’t you in the same class as Ron?”

“Yes, how did you know that?”

“I saw you talk to him the other day,” he told you. “I’m Fred.” He reached to shake your hands but then pulled it back when he remembered that your hands were full at the moment.

Ah, so this is Fred you thought. You've heard of him, who hasn't? Years of being at Hogwarts, tales of him and his equally devilish brother creating havoc around campus have traveled from one student to another. How you two had never seen one another until this point was surprising. It’s not like Hogwarts was a large school, but it wasn't small either.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You nodded your head towards him to replace a handshake. Ten seconds of silence caused you to walk past him and return to the path to the dungeons. “W-wait!” Fred called out.

He stood in front of you once again, one of his hands positioned in front of you to block you from walking past him again. “Would you like to get a butterbeer tomorrow?”

If there was anything you didn't like, it was being put on the spot. And another thing? Your routine being disturbed. Your Sunday was all planned out. Helping Sprout with her greenhouse to earn extra house points, tutoring some younger years, and getting a head start on your homework that wasn't even due for another week.

“I’m sorry, but no.” You gave him an apologetic smile as you walked away. Once again, he ran in front of you but this time merged with you and actually caused all of your books to fall.

“Merlin, I’m so sorry,” he bent down to help you pick them up. Fred usually isn't this clumsy or nervous. He usually charms his way through anything, but he was becoming like putty out of nowhere. “Okay, well what about Honeydukes next Saturday?”

“Sorry, but no again.” You started walking away for the nth time and turned around to look at him for the last time, “Please don’t follow me again.” And you were gone. But did this mean that Fred gave up on any chance he had? No. Far from it. If anything, it gave him reason to want to try harder.

He walked all the way to the Gryffindor house and luckily found Hermione studying in the common room with Pavarti and Lavender. There was a spot open next to her and when Ginny was about to take the spot, Fred grabbed her arm and pulled her away to steal the seat.

“Um, excuse you, I was going to sit–”

“Tell me everything you can about Y/N,” Fred interrupted his sister.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

He had tried to learn as much as he could about you. Fred learned that you had the top grades. Much like Harry did, you had learned the Patronus Charm before not only before your own class, but even Fred’s charms class. Your dad's a wizard, and your mum's a muggle. But most importantly, you were a picture perfect student, and although you didn't have any apparent hobbies, you picked up just about everything with ease.

A couple of weeks had passed and every other day, Fred had made any type of excuse to come see you.

‘Oh, my next class is in this direction’ It wasn't.

‘I like that book, too!’ You were, in fact, not holding a book but your personal journal.

‘Funny running into you here!’ It was in the Great Hall during breakfast.

Now, you didn't hate these interactions. They didn't do anything to your routine, and they were actually cute attempts to get your attention. But you didn't think you had any time for anything else. Or anyone else.

“You should give him a chance, Y/N/N. Live a little. I think the top student can take a bit of time for herself at least once,” your friend Millicent advised. Astoria agreed with her, “He’s cute~.” You slightly blushed in your book and pushed their arms away.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” you whispered. The two girls looked at each other confused before turning back to look at you. “Huh?”

“I’ve never been on a date before!” You flinched when you realized your voice was louder than intended. Your friends laughed when you looked towards the Gryffindor table to make sure Fred didn't hear you. He was talking to his friends, so that meant he didn't. Only he did, but felt your eyes on him so he pretended he didn't.

“So this is the perfect reason to go out with him! Go ask him out,” Millie pushed. She was persistently tapping on your arm until you eventually stood up. You took a deep breath to gather confidence and walked towards the table of red and gold.

When Fred's eyes met yours, you turned around and walked out of the Hall. He stood up from his seat and chased after you. He kept bumping into people, including Filch in the hallways. Filch yelled for him to stop, but of course Fred ignored him and kept going.

Momentarily, he lost you in the crowd of mixed color robes until he saw you sitting by yourself on a bench under a tree. He walked towards your direction and asked you with his eyes if he could take the seat next to you. You scooted down more to let the tall boy sit down.

Neither of you said anything for a few moments. You fiddled with your fingers on your lap and he stared up at the sky. “Nice day, innit?” Fred started the conversation. “Yes, it is.”

“Good weather to go walking around Hogsmeade” Fred tried one last attempt in asking you out.

“It would be,” you accepted.

He let out a sigh in defeat, “I know I ask a lot, but maybe just this once– wait, what did you say?” You looked up at him and smiled for the first time. His heart skipped a beat and the butterflies fluttered about inside.

“I’ll go with you.” He was so excited that he jumped up and did an air punch of victory. You laughed to yourself and when he looked at you, you had an eyebrow raised. He blushed in embarrassment and scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Promptly at 2 in the afternoon in front of the Slytherin dorms. Don’t be late,” you stood up with confidence. You walked back to the Hall to tell your friends, cheeks warmed and ears blushing. “So?” Astoria asked.

“It’s just a date, that's it,” you sounded nonchalant about it, but the smile on your face said differently. You were excited for your day with Fred and for all, unpredictable adventures to come.

A much needed change of pace.

—

requests open!

[ibijau]

I guess the question I have for the nhs is a half demon au is: what reason are we going to give for lxc to marry him after he comes back from visiting his mom? Also is he going to save wwx?

wwx did well for himself while nhs was off to live his little demon life, but he is the first person nhs visits upon returning among humans, because he's heard some concerning rumours...

On AO3

Small feet ran to the entrance of the cave, only slowing down at the very last moment and stopping just shy of actually coming in.

“Xian-gege, there’s a person at the gate,” Wen Yuan announced, careful to not actually shout.

Wei Wuxian smiled to himself, proud as always of this most excellent young boy he was helping raise, who obeyed rules much better than Wei Wuxian himself had ever done in his life.

“What sort of person?” Wei Wuxian asked, still hunched over his latest prototype. He was getting somewhere with this, he knew it. He just had to figure out how to…

“It’s an odd person,” Wen Yuan announced. “He says he’s here to see you.”

That was hardly news. Most of the visitors they'd had these last five years had come to the Burial Mounds to see Wei Wuxian. Sometimes, Lan Xichen would also come to see his brother and give them money. And in recent months, some people from the area had started coming to see Wen Qing in hopes she might cure them. But still, people mostly came for Wei Wuxian, either because they wanted to kill him, or because they wanted to join him. Either way, they were usually rejected.

“Did that man give his name?”

“He didn’t,” Wen Yuan announced, sounding indignant that anyone would be so rude. “He says you have to come see him, and then you’ll know him, and you’ll let him in. He sounded very sure.”

That intrigued Wei Wuxian enough to make him look up from his work and walk up to join Wen Yuan. A lot of people knew him, but there weren’t that many he knew, few of which would be sure to be allowed on the Burial Mounds, fewer still who would wish to be there at all. Jiang Cheng was the only person that came to mind, but he’d been around a few times in the years since Wei Wuxian had left Yunmeng Jiang, and Wen Yuan knew him well. Who else, then?

“That man, did he have any trouble walking?”

Wen Yuan shook his head. So it couldn’t be Jin Zixuan then. With his wooden leg, the climb to the gate would have been difficult anyway, and he would not have come unannounced.

“What did he look like?” Wei Wuxian asked, growing puzzled enough to consider meeting the stranger.

“He has a nice face, but it’s weird because of his eyes,” Wen Yuan said. “And he’s dressed with very good fabric, even better than Jiang-gege. And there’s a lot of teeth when he smiles.”

Without a word, Wei Wuxian started walking, with Wen Yuan following him. He didn’t like that description at all. He had hardly met him personally, but he’d heard about that boy in the Jin sect, that Xue Yang who was apparently trying to reproduce some of Wei Wuxian’s creations, with some success. He had an odd smile, Lan Xichen had said once when talking about him, so maybe…

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Wen Yuan said, slapping the side of his head. “I should have said first! But he has a mark on his forehead, it’s very red and looks a bit like a flame.”

Wei Wuxian froze.

“Xian-gege?”

“Go get Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian ordered. “Tell him there’s an emergency and I need him at the gate immediately. Wen Ning too. And tell Wen Qing to take everyone else to the hideout. No matter what, none of you are coming out until we come to get you. Go! Now!”

Frightened to see him so serious, Wen Yuan didn’t ask any question and scampered away as fast as his legs would take him. Wei Wuxian for his part hurried toward the gate after having made sure he had everything he’d need for a fight, knowing thing might turn vicious if he was right. He cursed as he walked, and hoped to be wrong about the identity of their visitor.

When he reached the gate and saw the man standing there, Wei Wuxian almost believed for a second that he’d been wrong indeed. The stranger, who had his back to the gate, was too tall, his shoulders too broad. But then, hearing that someone was approaching, the man turned to look at Wei Wuxian, and there was no mistake possible.

“Wei-xiong, it’s been a while,” Nie Huaisang said, smiling as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other for a few years. “You look worse than I remembered, but better than I expected.”

“Nie-xiong, it’s pretty bold of you to come here after what you’ve done,” Wei Wuxian retorted. “Couldn’t you have made it easier for everyone and stayed dead?”

Nie Huaisang's smile got wider, showing just a little more teeth than a mortal's would have. He looked better than he'd done last time Wei Wuxian had seen him. Healthier and a lot more confident. And why not? Last they'd been around each other, Nie Huaisang had been terrified someone might try to kill him, but he'd now proved just how difficult that would be.

“I would have, but some news reached me that forced me to rejoin the human world after all these years. Wei-xiong, won’t you let me in?”

“I hope you understand why I’d rather not. You have a history of slaughtering people I’d rather not see repeated.”

Nie Huaisang frowned and pinched his lips, looking almost sincerely hurt by the reminder of his past deeds.

“I’ve been told your shijie recovered,” he said in a softer tone, sounding more like the boy Wei Wuxian had studied with in Gusu. “And that Jin Zixuan too is… well, he’s alive, right? Don’t they even have a son?”

“They’re both doing as well as they can, no thanks to you.”

Again, Nie Huaisang looked wounded by the accusation. Wei Wuxian remembered how his old friend had been after the reveal of his true nature, the way he’d desperately tried to hide what he was, the terror he’d expressed in every letter they had exchanged… Still, what had been done couldn’t be changed, and Wei Wuxian hadn’t survived this long by trusting just anyone.

If anything, it was Nie Huaisang’s example who had taught him to be wary.

“Wei-xiong, you remember when we were in the Cloud Recesses together, and we made realgar wine a little before you were kicked out?” Nie Huaisang suddenly asked and though surprised by the change of topic, Wei Wuxian nodded. “All the other Nie disciples with us were quite stunned,” Nie Huaisang reminisced with a sad smile. “They’d never seen me drunk before. It’s a skill I’ve always had, though nobody at home really knew why. I can eat anything, drink anything, and never get sick… anything but realgar, which affects me badly, I’ve found since.”

Without thinking, Wei Wuxian nodded again. Realgar was used to ward off evil, and it was said to have a particularly strong effect on demons. That particular time, Nie Huaisang had only had one small sip because he’d found the smell of realgar wine unpleasant, and just that single sip had made him violently sick, and so irritable he'd bitten Jiang Cheng who'd only wanted to check on him… though of course most people would be in a bad mood after vomiting that much. At the time, none of them had thought there was anything odd with that.

Yet if he’d had more wine than that, Nie Huaisang might have died, or attacked his friends.

“It wasn’t the time of year for realgar wine,” Wei Wuxian noted, feeling himself grow more curious than angry. “So find a better excuse.”

“It wasn’t the season for it, and I didn’t notice the difference in smell,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “But the person who helped me recover from my wounds assured me that my blood was tainted by realgar, and I’ve learned since that there are ways to cover the taste, or to increase the effect. And Jin Zixun was ever so insistent on making me drink that day. Funny, when we’d never been close. Or indeed when I had been promised that he wouldn’t be there, since I didn’t much care for him.”

It was something that had always puzzled them indeed. Not just Wei Wuxian, but Lan Wangji too, and even Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli when they’d had a chance to speak about that. As far as everyone had known, Jin Zixun had been in hiding at that time, terrified that Wei Wuxian might try to kill him for what he’d done to Wen Ning and his family. And Jin Zixun had been quite vocal regarding what he thought should be done to Nie Huaisang, too.

Odd that he’d come to a Night Hunt where were present not only Wei Wuxian’s beloved shijie, but also the terrifying demon that terrorized everyone.

It sounded a lot braver than Jin Zixun had ever been known to be.

“It’s easy to blame a dead man,” Wei Wuxian remarked.

“And it’s easy to blame a demon,” Nie Huaisang retorted. “Especially for someone who’d have the demon’s trust. Funny also how this incident ensured that Qinghe Nie became isolated and despised, just when it was considered the one sect which might have stood against Lanling Jin’s ambitions.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. He’d personally also profited quite a bit from this conflict between the Nies and the Jins.

It had distracted everyone from what he was doing in Yiling. By the time the Jins had emerged fully victorious from that political battle, Wei Wuxian’s presence in the Burial Mound had been secure, while the Jins had been too busy securing their new power to think of attacking him. Besides, with him no longer part of Yunmeng Jiang and thus not involved in politics, and with his actions having made it clear that he wasn’t a threat, everyone had found it easier to leave him alone. Sometimes someone would still wonder if he should be annihilated, but a few words from Lan Xichen or Jiang Cheng seemed to usually be enough to put an end to that, at least for now.

Everyone might start thinking differently if he associated with a demon though.

“Supposing I believe you,” Wei Wuxian said, and he was ready enough to believe Nie Huaisang, demon or not. “I’m not sure what I can do for you.”

“Don’t think of it as you doing something for me, Wei-xiong. Think of it as the two of us teaming up to protect our families. You see, demons gossip just as much as mortals do, and I’ve been hearing a few worrying things while living with them. There’s a reason I know your shijie has a son, you see.”

Wei Wuxian shivered, but before he could ask for details, Wen Ning and Lan Wangji arrived at last. They were both stunned to see Nie Huaisang, though Lan Wangji had to be the more shocked of the two, since he would actually recognise the young man, while Wen Ning had never met him before.

Smiling faintly, Nie Huaisang bowed elegantly to the two newcomers, as if this were but an ordinary meeting between old friends.

“Lan gongzi, I did not expect you had really come to live here!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed with something like real joy. “I suppose gossip these days carries more truth than I’d have expected.”

“Fine, I’ll bite,” Wei Wuxian said. “What have you heard about my shijie and her son?”

“Let me come in,” Nie Huaisang replied. “And then we can talk.”

It felt like a trap, and maybe it was one.

Even after having disappeared for years, Nie Huaisang knew Wei Wuxian’s weaknesses. It had been a mistake perhaps to write to him back then, to confide in him, to stay his friend when the rest of the world shunned him… but Wei Wuxian too had needed a friend after the Sunshot Campaign, and Nie Huaisang had never judged him for what he’d done, not even before his demon blood was revealed.

This was a mistake.

And yet, Wei Wuxian opened the gate.

[gyll-yee-haw]

The Assistant

Quentin Beck smut

Prompt (requested): Quentin finds out that his cute new assistant (the one who loves to tease and be a little brat to him) is a virgin... and he's got plans for her.

Warnings: lots of teasing and dirty talk, idk if it has more degradation or praising, I like to mix it lol.... mentions of losing your virginity, unprotected sex and a surprisingly soft daddy Quentin

Like 3k words

---

From the minute you stepped into that lab, you had Quentin's attention.

He thought you were the prettiest little thing he had ever seen, but he couldn't allow distractions, so he never really gave you too much attention, just left you there doing your job.

The thing is that you were brilliant at it. There was no way he could ignore your presence.

As time passed, you kept impressing him… And he became kinda obsessed with you.

He thought about you more than he should.

He got jealous whenever he saw another employee talking to you (maybe they mysteriously got fired after).

So he asked one of your coworkers to get really close to you., and find out as many information as possible from you. Like what you liked to do on your free time, what were your ambitions… or if you were single. If he found out you weren't, there's nothing he wouldn't do for you to be.

But he didn't have to waste any time on planning something against your partner's life cause you didn't have one, and he was relieved to hear that.

But those aren't even the best news he got that day

He also heard from your coworker after a small party you attended to that weekend (with a little drinking and a few games) that you were still a virgin. He lost his mind at the thought of you being his and ONLY his. No other man had ever had the privilege to touch you.

Now he had to make you his.

So you were promoted to his personal assistant.

You were thrilled. Not only because you got a better job, but you had this HUGE admiration for Quentin, and being able to get closer to him was amazing.

On the first days, he just showered you in questions. And the better he knew you, the more fascinated he grew.

But you were a little confused. Didn't seem right for your boss to be asking so many personal questions. Sometimes, his questions seemed to have a double meaning. And you knew Quentin was way too smart to not notice that. So the only way you had to find out what he really wanted was playing his game.

One day, you were at his office, and both of you were minding your own business, but you decided that the teasing would start that day.

So your eyes focused on him until he noticed it, and when he looked back at you, they would quickly go back to your computer.

One time was enough to make him suspicious, but after the third one, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, making your heart race.

Pissing him off was exciting, but you knew it was also very dangerous.

"No, sir, I'm sorry." You lied, without taking your eyes off your computer screen.

You started slowly. That was only the first day. On the next ones, you started going a little further. Like smiling at him when he caught you staring. Or asking your own suggestive questions.

Like this one time, when you walked into his office and walked towards his desk, standing beside it until he finally acknowledged your presence.

"Can I help you?" He sighed, looking at you. He was getting tired of your games. He was so confused. You looked pretty innocent by the way you answered to his questions, but there was something in your eyes that made him doubt that.

"Yes, Mr. Beck." You bit your lip, trying to control your smirk as you carefully planned your next words. "I was wondering if I look okay to you."

He raised his eyebrows and waited for you to explain yourself, so you continued:

"I mean… now that I'm your assistant, people will see me next to you all the time. I know you never mentioned anything, sir, but do you think the way I dress is okay?"

That was the first time in a while someone left him speechless like that.

"I appreciate how much you care about your job, Y/N." He finally replied. "If you're worried about that, I could get you some money to buy new clothes."

You didn't expect that at all, you were just teasing him.

"Thank you, sir… but does that mean you don't think I'm pretty now?" You used a sweet, sad tone.

"No, I think you're so fucking pretty." He looked at your body in a way that made you a little shy. "And I don't really care what you're wearing. If you want my sincere opinion, honey, you should wear a lot less than that."

You pressed your thighs together at those words. This was all about driving HIM crazy, but he always found a way to be on control. And he noticed how he made you feel, of course he did.

"You look so eager to be a great assistant." He chuckled darkly. "You would do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?"

You nodded with no hesitation.

"Good girl." He smiled and caressed you cheek with his finger. "Go back to work, then."

You were in shock. You were frozen beside him trying to process everything. You wanted him so bad, you wouldn't be able to focus on work now. But you walked back to your desk, cause what other choice did you have?

Well, you weren't giving up now.

On the very next day, every single pair of eyes landed on you when you walked into that building.

You were wearing the shortest skirt you could find. And one of those shirts that were a little transparent, with a cute little lace bra under it. Red lipstick. It was impossible not to look.

Quentin was furious. He was possessive, and now everyone was talking about "his girl".

5 minutes after you arrived you were already yelled at. He wanted you in his office. Immediately.

When you walked in, you shivered at his state. He was so angry, and he always looked so hot like that. Sitting on his chair, a hand closed on a fist on his table, his eyes looking at a distant spot… you could almost see that inside his head there was nothing but madness.

"What do you think you're doing?" He sighed, trying to control his anger. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Well, sir… yesterday you said that you wanted me to wear less clothes. I just wanted to please you."

"Please me?" He thought for a second. "Come closer."

Seemed like a pretty dangerous thing to do, but there was no turning back now.

When you got close enough, he pulled you by the arm, forcing you to sit on his lap, which made you gasp.

"I know you're not stupid, Y/N. I wouldn't be interested in you if you were." He said, running his hand through your thigh. "So why are you doing this? Do you want attention?"

"Yes, sir." You bit your lip as his hand travelled now between your thighs.

"You wanted my attention?" He chuckled. "Well, but I don't want other people looking at my things. Wanting my things…"

He was treating you like just another prize he won and you couldn't understand why you were okay with that. Or why you would be anything he wanted you to be.

"Maybe I should fire you." He said, placing a kiss on the back of your neck.

"No, sir, please… I can be useful to you." You begged.

"I know you can. And you will." He said as his hand got closer and closer to where you needed it, but never actually there.

You were on fire, you just wanted to rub yourself on his thigh, but you were afraid to move unless he asked you to.

"Now come on." He said, forcing you to stand up. "Let's go to your place. We'll get you changed."

"I don't want to go." You muttered.

"Excuse me?" He raised his eyebrows.

"We have work to do." You explained. "And there is nothing wrong with the way I am dressed."

He immediately grabbed you by the neck and said: "We are going to your place right now."

---

You were thrilled. One more time. Life beside Quentin was never boring.

The drive back to your place was silent. Your eyes were glued to the way he was holding the wheel a lot tighter than he had to. His forearms were so tense. Absolutely beautiful.

The moment you walked into your place, you went directly to your bedroom and he followed you.

"Do I have to change in front of you?" You asked sarcastically. "To make sure you'll approve it?"

"Enough." He sighed. "Why are you acting like a fucking brat? You used to be such a good girl for me…"

You didn't have an answer to give him. Cause you wanted attention? Not really, you had that already. You were doing that simply because it was fun.

"You know what? You don't have to go back with me. You're fired."

"No, sir, don't do that, please!" Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, just give me a chance, I will be good again, I promise…"

"I don't usually give people a second chance, you know that." He shrugged. "But it would be a shame to lose you, I have to admit that."

His eyes traveled your body as he walked in circles, trying to make up his mind. You were paralyzed. Not that you were obsessed with your job, but you kinda were with your boss. You knew he wouldn't want to see you ever again.

"I will give you one last chance…" He decided. "If you prove that you're loyal to me. Not to the company, to me. You know you're over qualified to be only an assistant… and I have bigger plans for you."

"I would do anything for you, sir." You nodded eagerly.

"Now that's my good girl." He chuckled and stood in front of you. He leaned closer and placed his hand on your cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. "My pretty girl."

That man had some kind of power over you that didn't allow you to think straight. Even when you thought you could play him, he found a way to be on control. All you knew was that you wanted him as bad as he wanted you. And before you could think twice, you enjoyed the proximity to kiss him.

You thought he would push you away and leave you there alone and needy, but the fact was that he was holding himself back since the minute you walked into his office that day. So he kissed you back. It was a hungry, messy kiss. His hands quickly went to your waist and pulled you against his body.

He guided you towards your bed without breaking the kiss.

"Not exactly what I had in mind." He chuckled. "But you never fooled me. I always knew you weren't innocent."

You lay on your bed and he climbed on top of you.

"Mr. Beck…" You got a little nervous when you realized how far things had gone. "I have never done this before."

"I know, baby." He said on his sweetest tone. "But I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'll be good for you. There's no need to be scared. Also, there's no need to call me Mr. Beck here. Call me whatever you want, okay?"

You hesitated for a second, then you whispered the most innocent "daddy" he had ever heard in his entire life.

"Fuck, what did you just say?" He grabbed your chin and forced you to repeat it right to his face, to make sure it was real.

"Can I call you daddy?" You asked nervously.

"God fucking damnit, Y/N." He visibly lost his mind. "Now you can't call me anything else ever again."

"Daddy." You smiled at the effect that little word had on him.

"Yes, babygirl." He slid his hand under your skirt, but this time he didn't tease as much as before, stroking you over your underwear. "Now daddy's gonna make you feel so good."

You bit your lip and nodded. That could be considered a permission for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

So he helped you remove all of your clothes. He removed his shirt too, but he had to stop and take a moment to admire you. No man in the world had ever looked at you like that. With that much lust. That look on his eyes alone would be enough to make you want him, but the sigh of his shirtless chest was something else too.

His hands travelled your body and ended up on your chest, and he decided to dedicate a few minutes to your boobs.

You were starting to think that he planned on fucking you back in his office, but he changed his mind cause he wanted to take his time with you. So ending up in your bedroom had absolutely nothing to do with the clothes you were wearing. Actually, Quentin would love to show you off. He was only mad cause you turned him on that much at the wrong place and time.

But part of you wished he would have finished this at his office, because you couldn't stand this anymore. He played with your nipples until you were desperate for him to fuck you.

"Daddy, please." You begged, pressing your thighs together.

"Please, what?" He smirked at your state.

"Need you inside me so bad." You admitted.

"Do you, honey?" His hands left your boobs and went to your thighs, forcing them open. His fingers started to stroke your folds and you gasped. "Fuck, babygirl. You really do. Look at how fucking wet you are. All for me."

He shoved two fingers inside you at once, making you moan loudly.

"So thigh, princess. Can't wait to stretch you open with my cock. Is that what you want?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly. "Beg for it just a little more. You wouldn't have to if you weren't such a little brat earlier... now you have to earn it."

"I'm sorry, daddy." Your hips bucked as he rubbed your clit so hard. "I won't be a brat anymore, I will be good now."

"Hm." He muttered uninterested and kept rubbing you.

"Daddy… I'm gonna-" You started to feel your orgasm building in your belly because of how good he was touching you and the things he was saying.

"No, you're not." He stopped everything. The look of betrayal on your face was hilarious to him. "Not until you beg."

"Please, daddy, please." You obeyed. "I need your cock, I promise I'll be loyal to you forever, but please…"

He didn't want to give up so soon. Maybe it was because of the tears in your eyes, or that fact that he was painfully hard that made him break.

But you were relieved when you saw him taking off the rest of his clothes. And you couldn't even describe how you felt when you saw his cock.

He placed it on your entrance and started to kiss you again, before he finally entered you. You cried out from pain and pleasure. He started to move slowly.

"Daddy is always gonna give you what you need, as long as you deserve it, honey." He told you as he kissed your neck. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"So big, daddy, so good." You smiled at him. "So good."

"You sound so dumb right now, you little slut." He chuckled.

That was definitely the last thing you expected sex with Quentin to be like. So smiley. Sweet on it's own way. Maybe because it was your first time. Maybe he had a heart after all.

After he was sure you were ready, he started going faster and harder. It was heaven. Didn't take too long for your to feel your orgasm building from where it was brutally interrupted before.

"Daddy, please… can I cum now?" You begged, which pleased him very much. He didn't even have to ask this time.

"Yes, babygirl, cum on daddy's cock before I fill you up, come on." He told you.

The thought of him coming inside you was enough to bring you to the edge. You came so hard, because you needed that for so long. Quentin couldn't decide what was hotter: your face, your moans or the way you held him tightly while your walls clenched around him.

And he kept his promise, spilling himself inside of you a few seconds later.

He kept his cock inside you and brought his hand to your face, caressing it slowly.

"I'm your first and the only man you'll ever have." He whispered. "You're mine now. You were mine since the day you walked into that office for the first time."

"I'm yours." You agreed. "And you're my daddy."

"Right, I'm your daddy." He chuckled. "I have huge plans for you, babygirl…"

[yuraimi-lee-bunny]

Gray’s Character Analysis Part II. Empathy vs Ambition

Hello! Sorry if it took me a while to show the next part of my Gray’s analysis, but this part was a bit difficult for me especially in what order I should give it. You'll see what I mean as soon as you read. This part is going to be a little longer than the previous one and will explain some issues not only about Gray, but also about Carmen and VILE in general.

Thank you very much for the support of the previous analysis and I hope you like this too! Here we go!

As we already know, Gray is an orphan. And yes, it’s important to understand certain behaviors and ways of thinking about him. First, I want to explain a small detail of Black Sheep/Carmen so that Gray's decisions are understood in greater depth once he’s in VILE and his ease of trying to go far (and even the position of almost all VILE agents would also be understood usually)

Why does Carmen think and feel different compared to all VILE and especially Gray?

Simple: Empathy.

Now, it doesn't mean that Carmen is the only one who has empathy and others don't. Rather, Carmen's level of empathy is greater, deeper and broader. What caused it? Living in VILE was the first.

Yes, surprisingly it was that, VILE created her own "enemy" since they decided to give her a home on the former Island of VILE when she was a pretty baby. From the first episode, Carmen relates how stealing was a game for her and VILE Faculty was like her family in some way, especially Coach Brunt because her relationship was "mother/daughter." The other members of the faculty treated her well, they taught her the culture of thier countries and around the world, they gave her food and clothing, a large home, basic education and also living with many VILE students. But Black Sheep only knew the "basics" about VILE, because she lived with the belief that they only taught to steal all over the world, just a "the game of cat and mouse" but it didn't harm anyone, or so she believed.

Another very important factor helped Black Sheep's empathy to expand: Player. That's right, our little favorite hacker was very influential on her. First, because he was the first person she met, empathized and talked about her life outside of VILE. Black Sheep always wanted to know the world outside the island, and Player was his first contact outside the world, and a white hat hacker, his abilities used for good. Black Sheep never saw that as something bad or like a "enemy". On the contrary, he was her friend and appreciated him very much.

Last important factor: The archaeologist's words:

Black Sheep, the one who didn’t know anything about her roots, about her family, thought about how she wouldn’t like someone or an entire country and it’s people to live the same as her: not to know a part of her life. These factors caused that Black Sheep's empathy was different from that of VILE and her agents.

The other agents, although we don’t know their lives completely, the fact that we know that they’re orphans is enough to give us a glimpse that their lives haven’t been easy. The reasons why one can be orphaned are many, which can lead to sad experiences, hard, full of pain, others not of course, but being an orphan is to carry a great mark on your life. And in the end one must survive and get what he needs by his own hands if you are alone. But maybe have a brother, have a life partner, in these cases a brother/sister, can change everything, because you no longer feel alone in life, and you can create a bond of empathy, like Zach and Ivy. Or maybe not, like Shadowsan and his brother.

Sorry if it seems that I'm moving away from Gray, but I need you to understand how the VILE agents don't have a great connection and their empathy is lower because they don't know (or perhaps they do and not having good consequences) about their roots. To experience rejection more than once and for years. Of not having had a "family" or person to help them connect with the world and thereby seek and understand other people. Perhaps most of them had to survive alone. Or they got together with people of bad influences as seen with Shadowsan. They didn't have or lived the points that I mentioned about Carmen, or maybe they did, and even so they wanted to steal for mere enjoyment and get money easily. Everything is possible.

The fact that the faculty recruits students over 16 (it seems that it's from the age of 20 or is an approximate) is a great plan because it's 20 years of a habit of only trusting you, seeing for you and stealing for you, there comes a point where you live it with more enjoyment/play than just "surviving". A "vocational school" will provide you with a home, food, appreciate you for your stealing skills, without being without any communication, living for a year on an island, with people who have in common being an orphan and stealing, feeding your enjoyment of theft , that the faculty helps you find and develop skills to achieve a successful robbery, continuing to see it as a game and now see it in a professional way, which will make you survive forever, generates the idea that “it's okay to do it ”And you do it together like a family.

Graham and Black Sheep understood each other very easily and enjoyed spending time together most of the time. Antonio, Jean Paul and Sheena also considered them his friends, but not as close as Black Sheep. They communicated just by looking at each other, they understood each other easily, and they covered their backs. How to forget when as long as they didn't expel Black Sheep, Graham lied to the Faculty. He reassured her as long as he trusted that he would pass the exam and graduate from her. He felt very bad to realized that they wouldn’t graduate together. Gray somehow began to develop an empathy for Black Sheep. In the book he mentions to Black Sheep in detention: 

“I know they say there is no loyalty between thieves, but we’re in this together right? I have always taken care of you”

Which shows that he appreciated her a lot, but being on the island and under their ideals, made him think that everything was to be in a “family”, everything was loyalty, he didn't realize it could be more than loyalty, but appreciation, the beginning of great empathy. He really knew her very well, her goals, her desire to be the best thief and always improve herself. He knew Black Sheep, but not the factors that would make her Carmen Sandiego.

The next thing I will say is more of a theory/assumption, not a fact: As I mentioned in the previous analysis, Gray is someone who wants to be successful, he's always going to prove it to himself and will give everything to achieve it. Being an orphan, perhaps he has affected him in some way, that at some point in his life he decided to just see for himself and show that he can be successful and that nothing would stop him. He's ambitious. But when he met Black Sheep, his empathy grew more, however, a “struggle” began within him between his ambition and his love for Black Sheep, a person outside his life, but who has lived with her so much that your appreciation is big. A fight, of which, throughout the whole series, Gray will never be aware, but with acts it is always demonstrated.

There is a sentence from him in the second episode that I always found very curious:

This is cute and talks about how much he appreciates Black Sheep to mention her well-being first.

"Criminal Career" Do you realize how much Crackle has thought about it? He doesn't see being in VILE as a game or something. He sees it as a "Career". Something tells me that if it were up to him, he would have set his sights on a position at the faculty. That he would be willing to do anything to achieve it.

At least as far as I'm concerned, Crackle wasn't going to kill the archaeologist because he's evil, or because he doesn't have absolute empathy, it's because he always tests himself to achieve his goals, for him, to start with his criminal career, was to abide by ALL the rules of VILE. He somehow affirms it:

Did he want to be successful? Did he want to have a great criminal career? He had to do EVERYTHING.

BUT!

His empathy reminder was there

and was still there

This, this expression says it all (This expression was the one that convinced me that Crackle wasn’t bad at all and from then on no one moved me from that belief). Deep down, Crackle wasn't so convinced of going that far either. Something in him, the empathy in him spoke and made him feel that such acts were too much for him. Carmen's words reached him. Deep down, he felt she was right. But what could he do? Although he listened to all of Carmen's story, even his ambition and all that year in VILE resonated more with him. Because he hasn’t lived experiences of strong empathy as Carmen already lived.

His goals are very big, he commits himself to them at any cost. But there is also still a place for her in his heart. Unfortunately, we don’t know in detail (or rather nothing) of how he reacted when Black Sheep managed to escape from VILE. But when he and Carmen Sandiego meet on the train, he asks so many questions because he doesn't understand what led her to do all this. As I said before: he didn’t know the factors that I mentioned at the beginning, and there was no time for them to talk about it. He no longer recognizes her, he only has his memories of Black Sheep and of course he misses her, but he doesn't understand that she is no longer Black Sheep, she is Carmen Sandiego:

He told her that because he believed that she was still thinking like Black Sheep, but no more.

I always liked this scene because it shows how Carmen is in the light and Gray is in the dark.

I can only say that he didn’t want to do it, he only did on VILE's orders, because of his ambition that he was almost going too far. But deep down he didn't want to, if only there was a proof… oh, yes there is, but this is not the time to move on to it ;D

In the end and as we know, Carmen defeats Crackle and she uses him to distract Devineaux. This is caught by the police, VILE saves him, and he "regrets" not having caught Carmen (he’s relieved that he had not killed her rather. Crackle NEVER wanted to.)

BUT

VILE can accept failures, but not be trapped by the Law.

So Crackle, since you've lived so many years for your goals and ambitions, let's see what happens to live as little as 18 months with just pure empathy.

It would be all with this part! Geez, I feel that I wrote a lot but it was necessary to tell all this! Believe me that doing this is making me better connect my ideas and understand better to Gray. I hope it’s also helping you, you like it and it makes you reflect. I want to know what they think and if they have any other points of view. I love talking about analysis with more people. The next part for sure will be shorter, but still very important, it’s the safest that if they have it in two days. Greetings!

Part. I Introdution

Part. II Empathy vs Ambition (HERE)

Part. III Amnesia and it’s Future Consequences

Part. III.5 Graham Calloway: The Walking Enigma

Part. IV Integrity At a high (and unfair) price

Part. V The final decision and a new beginning

Plus 1. Gray and his strange habit of explaining things

Plus 2. Crossover: Sabrina And Gray: New Beginning

Plus 3. Crossover: Hawk/Eli and Crackle/Gray: Redemption