#Made this because someone who was our mutual i believe

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Hello!

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth

Something I wanna say about this post (with my reblog on it). I wanna give a side of a story. Mine to be exact.

They were one of the first people I talked to outside of rp. They were a close friend. But that fades.

I DONT WANT THEM TAGGED IN THIS I DONT WANT THEM TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE THEM BLOCKED. IF THEY LEARN ABOUT THIS, IT IS BECAUSE SOMEONE SEND THIS TO THEM.

Tw: sa, strong language, I'm a little bitch, please please please read at your own risk

When start this by saying Jack worries me. I've seen so many post, rp or otherwise, where they bring up extremely triggering comments...just randomly. This has happened to me too. I don't get bothered by them I've been lucky enough to not deal with most and be comfortable with what I have dealt with. I think he needs professional help. Or to talk to someone that is an adult. This is difficult for some people. But there are free therapy websites out there. I have seen them. I have participated in them. The people on the other line aren't professionals but they are people willing to listen. And adults.

It started with when I saw an rp they had with camp Sky. I can't give screenshots of that but I do have some of confronting them.

Now all good right? Yeah! I thought so too. Untill an anon confronts em.

Posts here and here

Oh...kay? What's wrong about this?

Yeah...

Actively calling out anon

Now mind me I thought they had buried this au deep deep into the ground. Wasn't until I opened Circe's blog that I realised they didn't. I was pissed. I had every reason to be. We have so few stories of male victims as it is and this 'au' was blatantly disrespectful to victims of all genders. I felt really fucking disrespected that's for sure.

Unfortunately I don't confront them. But I do vent.

Now I feel bad for this. Maybe this was dirty laundry I shouldn't have aired out. But I was just so angry I couldn't think properly. I didn't mention Jack in this post, but friends figured it out. I won't say who these friends are for obvious reasons. Also, this is a bit wrong. They thought Odysseus cheated with only Circe, and Calyspo was SA. I got that wrong, and I admit it. I only remembered that when I scrolled up our dm to take a screenshot of it.

Now I wanted to leave that convo because I wasn't in the mood for arguing, and I've learned to give people what they want, which makes em and yourself stop. My fault again.

Things happen. It leads to the apology. Now, obviously, I can't tell if an apology is genuine through a screen, and I am most certainly a pessimist. So, like, I don't think it is. Also, I'm almost certain that most was written by whoever the friend was who 'helped' em.

Sure, people can change, but not enough times do they actually. Just look on the Internet. And real life. A person like Jack, well, they've talked to me enough to know it is most likely not the case. If they were so angry at a piece of good criticism, then I don't have much hope.

Am I an angry person ? Yes. Do I think I have the right to be? Yes. Am I also a logical person? I believe so. The people I've asked think so, too. I don't dislike something for no reason. But I do dislike things. What I do like is reasons for my dislikes. With me so far?

Good. Moving on.

After the apology and after I finally got my thoughts in order, I sent them a message because they tagged me. A lot.

This is what I sent. It's emotional, but in my opinion, it also makes sense. I was mad they lied to me. I was mad they twisted the story so. Fucking. Much. Odysseus isn't a rapist and Circe isn't an innocent flower. That is not what an AU is. What was their reaction to this? Nothing. To me at least.

A mutual friend told me they sent the last half of my messages and told them that they were angry I. Didn't. Thank. Them. For. The. Apology. Take that for what you will.

Now they made another post replying to the first anon who criticized them. I've read it. And when I tell you it is so fulled with self-pity-

I haven't collected my thoughts properly about this so this is bad and more emotion than the above. but this is the basic things behind it.

1) never directly addressing what he did and constantly tell em to read the apology. Don't wanna repeat yourself. How much time is it gonna take out of your day exactly?

2) not acknowledging the fact the male sa victim. At all. They don't say anything about it. No 'my condolences'. No 'I'm so sorry that happened to you' . Not acknowledging how terrible of a thing that is. At all.

3)says they aren't gonna defend themself... and defend themselves

4) have yet to tell us who these people are. Which is just bad cuz there are people out there who are okay with this. If they were IRL friends just say that.

5) it felt just fucking dull

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe you disagree with these points. But do not tell me you disagree with the rest.

I wanna end this by saying I am victim of SA. Did I tell him this? No. Maybe I should've. I don't feel comfortable sharing it. Because remembring fucking hurts. Remembering means crying and opening the lights and either sitting or laying down on my back because I can still. Fucking. Feel. It. And I was nine.

I don't want your pity on this. I don't want you to say sorry. The people you should be saying sorry to are the people who are not believed when this happens. Feel sorry for the people who cannot report this stuff because they don't trust the people who are supposed to protect them. Feel sorry for the people who think it was their fault and they actually wanted it when they didn't. 63% of rape are not reported in females. Only 12% of child rapes are reported.

I can't find a clear fucking statistics on males.

Do you know how difficult it is for males to have any representation at all? How many male victims do you see online? Even Odysseus being regonized as one is recent. Fucking. Stop. This is more than a made up story. It means the world to some people. So this actually happen. It might mean everything. This was taken away from them from so many retellings. And a stupid fucking au.

If you want to talk about SA, wanna make a character out of it, learn about it first.

So I'm not going to forgive and I am definitely not going to forget. You can. If you want. I don't care if you do. But I ask you not to forget. Please.

I am tagging Jack's taglist

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @i-was-never-sane

[fictionfreedom]

Hey guys, just a fun reminder that we are PRO PARAPHILIA. We support ALL Paraphiles, we advocate for their freedom to speak about their feelings and get help, and we advocate for them to not all be treated like predators.

We support pedophiles. We support zoophiles. We support necrophiles. We do NOT support anyone attempting to harm children, animals, or other people. We DO support paraphiles using roleplay, BDSM/Kink, and similar things as outlets for their feelings. We do NOT support attempting relationships with living, non-consenting things.

If you follow us, you need to understand that we SUPPORT ALL PARAPHILES. We support them finding community between themselves, we support them being able to speak about their attractions, we support them finding outlets for their attractions that don't harm people.

Also: WE ARE ALL OF THE BIG THREE. We have disordered pedophilia, and are a zoophile and necrophile.

If you follow us and do not support paraphiles: Being allowed to find community, being allowed to speak about their attractions without being attacked (especially in psychological situations such as therapy), being free to use Kink and BDSM as coping mechanisms, and being free to do absolutely none of that if they don't wish to.

Then UNFOLLOW us, especially if you reblog shit putting down Paraphiles.

TLDR: We support all Paraphiles and believe they deserve a safe community. This doesn't mean we support Grooming or Predatory Behaviors in any amount.

[ahqkas]

Gryffindor! Reader who always try to avoid mattheo because of the beef between houses. But mostly because of the rumors of the riddle brother. Mattheo knows this, it’s like a game of cat and mouse as it only ends up with mattheo teasing her until she’s flustered.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE ANCIENT RIVALRY BETWEEN GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN WAS A WELL-KNOWN FACT AT HOGWARTS. it was a feud written in tradition and mutual dislike, carried on through generations of students. for you, a proud gryffindor, the tradition was not just a historical detail but a daily reality. especially when it came to avoiding mattheo riddle, the short tempered slytherin whose reputation preceded him.

it wasn’t just the typical house rivalry that made you steer clear of mattheo; it was the swirling rumors about him and his name. the whispers in the corridors, the hushed conversations in the common room – all painted him as someone to be wary of. despite this, there was an undeniable allure to him, a magnetism that made it increasingly difficult to ignore his presence.

mattheo seemed to take great delight in your attempts to avoid him. it was like a game of cat and mouse, one he played with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he had an uncanny ability to appear wherever you least expected him, always ready with a teasing remark or a sly smile that made your heart race.

one afternoon, you were hurrying through the courtyard, hoping to reach the library before dinner. the winter sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cobblestones. you quickened your pace, hoping to evade any slytherins who might be lingering nearby.

"running from something, gryffindor?"

the familiar drawl stopped you in your tracks. you turned to see mattheo leaning against a stone pillar, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk playing on his lips. his dark curls fell into his eyes, which sparkled with amusement. he enjoyed this game between the two of you too much.

"no, just trying to get to the library," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. "some of us actually have work to do."

"ah, always the responsible student," he teased, pushing off from the pillar and sauntering over to you. "but you know, all work and no play makes for a very dull lion."

you rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding against your rib cage. "i have enough excitement without adding you to the mix, riddle."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense. "oh i doubt that." he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. the casual touch sent a shiver down your spine. "why do you avoid me, really?"

you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "you know why," you muttered.

"because of the rumors?" he asked and his voice visibly softened now. "you shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"it’s not just the rumors," you admitted. "it’s . . . well, you're you. and i am me. gryffindor and slytherin don't exactly mix well."

"who says we have to follow the rules?" he said, his tone challenging. "maybe we can make our own."

you couldn't help but glance up at him, caught by the sincerity in his voice. "why do you care so much, mattheo?"

"because i like you," he said simply. "and i think you like me too, even if you won't admit it."

your cheeks flushed, and you looked away again. "you’re impossible," you muttered, but there was no heat in your words this time.

"and you're adorable when you're flustered," he teased, his smirk returning.

before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of the break. you took a step back, needing to put some distance between you and the overwhelming presence of mattheo riddle.

"i have to go.”

"i’ll see you around, princess," he called after you, his voice filled with a promise.

as you walked away, you couldn't help but smile. despite your best efforts, mattheo riddle was getting under your skin. and maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

[campgender]

Whenever a player safewords, this is an occasion for mutual support. We understand that nobody safewords from a happy place, and that all of our egos feel frail and kind of runty when we need to back out of a scene. It is completely unethical to respond with scorn or ridicule to a person who has safeworded: S/M is not a competition, we are not playing against each other.

As tops, we have noticed that if we are having a good time and our bottom safewords, our initial feelings may not be happy. Whaddaya mean you don't like that? I do all this work and you don't appreciate it? I'm hot for being in control and you want me to stop? We have felt real anger and felt challenged in our top role... and, on a deeper level, we have felt put down, hurt and rejected. It is okay to have these feelings. It is not okay to act on them. Take three deep breaths and everybody start taking care of each other.

Sometimes bottoms get so deeply engaged in a scene that they fail to safeword, or forget, or so profoundly believe in the fantasy that it doesn't occur to them: many of the techniques we play with, like interrogation, function in the real world to undermine volition. Dossie remembers a scene in which a top offered her a choice of something or other: "I felt very confused. Some distant part of me vaguely remembered having made choices, but the response from my state of consciousness at that time was, Choose? I am not a thing that chooses." So then what is the top's responsibility?

If a bottom does not safeword and you don't pick up on what's going on, and this will happen if you play long enough and well enough, there is no blame. However, it is still your responsibility to monitor for physical safety as best you can. As ethical tops we make a commitment to never knowingly harm our bottoms. To this end we check in regularly to make sure that things are going the way we think they are, and we constantly monitor the physical and emotional safety of our bottoms. If a bottom is beyond safewording, and you as the top feel unsure about how far you should go, it is your responsibility to slow down or stop the scene and get into communication with the bottom to make sure you have informed consent. If you have to bring the bottom back into reality to do this, please remember that you helped get them into that altered state in the first place, so presumably you can help get them back there again as soon as you are sure of what's going on.

And just because someone safeworded doesn't mean that the scene has to be over. There may be times when the problem that brought either of you to safeword is so overwhelming that carrying on doesn't feel like the right thing right now - but most often we find that after we've dealt with whatever the difficulty is, we're still terrifically turned on, with the added bonus of a shared intimacy.

from The New Topping Book (2003) by Dossie Easton & Janet W. Hardy

(note: the authors use ‘top’ & ‘bottom’ in the historical S/M sense, meaning ‘person performing the act’ & ‘person receiving the act’; the act in question is not necessarily penetration.)

[starcrossedreaders]

Pure

  Parings: Rookie!Virgin!Leon Kennedy x Virgin!fem!Reader

Summary: You and Leon have finally made it to the next step of the relationship. Only problem is, you’re both virgins. 

Warnings: Fem Reader 18+ very very fluffy smut that is taken very very slow. Smut with training wheels essentially :) Protected sex (please wear protection anytime you are active) p in v, missionary, mutual masturbation, squirting cunnilingus both male and female

Authors note: This idea came to me late at night sooo, I highly suggest listening to Pure by Cigarettes After Sex because this is HEAVILY inspired by that song. Enjoy!

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

The comfort Leon’s lips brought to you was unimaginable. Your tongues danced together at a slow pace. His hands were on your hips, gripping slightly each time you moved a little. Leon couldn’t stand the foreign feeling that was brewing in is gut. It made him hot and heavy and aching for something that wasn’t there.

You and Leon have been dating for little over a year. Having met in a coffee shop on the day after your 21st birthday. Leon had bumped into you, sending the dark liquid crashing all over your clothes. Leon stumbled over his words as he tried to fix his mistake, cursing at his clumsiness. Maybe it was the left over alcohol in your system, or your love for food, but, you had told him he can make it up to you by buying you lunch. Of course Leon could never say no to a beautiful girl like you, and he was wiling to make it up to you in whatever way possible. Soon, lunch led to dinner dates, dinner led to hanging out, and hanging out led to dating, and dating led you guys here, with you in Leon’s lap kissing slowly.

You and Leon had agreed to take it slow so you guys have never pushed your physical intimacy past making out. If Leon was being honest, he liked it this way. Due to his up bringing in a strict religious household anything that went along the lines of sex or masturbation was strictly prohibited. Even when Leon moved out he was so busy with the police academy that sex wasn’t his top priority. Leon couldn’t bring himself to do it, he knew nothing of the nature and he was quiet embarrassed about it. Especially, since his girlfriend is a big advocate in sexual health. He’s over heard conversations you’ve had with friends about how it’s okay for them to not get off to penetration, foreplay is what majority of people use to reach their climax.  Leon didn’t know what foreplay or climax met, and that only scared him more for when the day you guys do decided to take the next step. 

For you though, you were more then ready to take that step. Despite you waiting for the right person to get intimate with, you fully believe that person is Leon. Your vibrator was starting to bore you, and your hand was to mundane. You needed to be filled, more then just your ring and middle fingers. You needed his tongue lapping at your apex as you rake your hands through his hair. You needed to be filled so deep that the tip is bumping into your cervix. You need to be manhandled, tied to a bed and blind folded, or riding a certain someone past no return. But of course, you waited, staying ever the  more patient with your lover. ‘Good things come to those who wait’ was something you constantly told yourself in the late hours of the night when you yearned to feel your boyfriend deep inside of you.

Pulling back for air, you bring your hand down to wipe away the saliva that ran down Leon’s chin. His blue eyes pierced into yours as you two looked at each other.

“Everything okay love?” His whispers floated past your lips and filled the quiet room.  You couldn’t wait anymore. The way you could feel his bulge beneath you, his huge arms gripping you, and the taste of him on your lips, you had to have him, and now. 

“Can.... Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Of course,” He smiled at you as he rubbed idle circles on your hips.

“Are you... Are you willing to take the next step in our relationship? If you don’t want to that’s okay, it’s just...” You trail off of your sentence when you notice the pale expression on your boyfriend’s face. One of his biggest fears came true and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Your voice softened as you cup his cheek, “Hey it’s okay, we don’t have to I was just wondering,”

Leon was quick to shake his head, “No, no it’s not that...”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Then what is it?”

Silence filled your shared room as Leon turned his head to look away from you. Red floated up to the tips of his ears and flowed down all the way to his neck.

“I- I uh, um,” He trapped his swollen bottom lip in-between his teeth. 

“Leon I promise it’s fi-,”

“I’m still a virgin! I don’t know anything about sex, when I hear you talking to your friends about it I don’t even understand most of the words you use, and I’m afraid. I’m afraid that I’m not going to make you feel good, and then you’ll leave me an-” Your lips crashed into Leon’s bruised lips. You had cut Leon of just as he had done to you

Pulling back you looked at Leon pondering what to tell him, ”Love, I’m a virgin too,”

“R-really?”

“Yes really. I had told myself I was going to wait to till I’m with the right person, and Leon you are that person for me, no matter what you have and haven’t done. We will take it slow, establish boundaries as we go and if you are uncomfortable with it, we will stop.” You thumb stroked his cheek as he looked at you will big doe eyes that were slightly glossed over.

He nodded his head slightly and you returned your lips to his. The kiss was slow and passionate. Despite his tongue dipping past your lips there was nothing eager about the kiss. Pulling back you started to trail kisses down Leon’s jaw. Starting from the edge of mouth and moving lower tracing the sharp lines of his jaw with your lips. When you reached his neck you started to suck and bite, causing him to groan. After leaving a few love bites you pulled back and toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“Consent is everything, always ask before you do. It might be redundant but it helps establish trust, and quite frankly I think it’s very very hot,” Leon plays with the hem of your shorts as he nods his head.

“May I?” You tug a little at his shirt.

“Mhm,” he eagerly nodded his head before you were quick to lift his shirt over his head.

Leon was quick to connect your lips again this time he takes the lead. He followed you actions and left hickies all along your neck and down to your cleveage. 

“May I take your shirt off love?” his voice was soft as it floated to your ears.

“Of course,” Leon’s calloused hands traveled up from your thighs to the inside of your shirt around your stomach. His soft touch sent shivers down your spine as he took his hands out from your shirt and gripped the hem of your shirt. He gave you one last look for confirmation before he slowly lifted it up. He stopped right before your perked up nipples. 

“It’s okay love, here let me help you,” Your hands landed on top of his and you slowly guided his hands up, up and over your head. 

Matching pink adorned cheeks sat on your guys faces as Leon took in the sight in front of him, and you watch Leon practically drool over your tits. 

“C-can I touch them?” This was the first time Leon had seen you this naked, and if he was being honest, he was a little upset that this is what he has been missing out on for so long. 

You could feel your arousal pool into your shorts “Gods, please Leon, touch me, I want to feel your hands all over me,” You were quick to grab his hands and lead them to your aching nipples. 

His cold hands made you arch your back further into his touch as a moan laid in the back of your throat. “Fuck Leon,” 

Your hands held onto his as he rolled your left nipple in his hand and dived back into your neck. This feeling was indescribable the ecstasy was too addicting, and you wanted more, you wanted to be inebriated all the time. 

Your hands trailed down your body and slowly made their way to Leon’s soaked crotch. You didn’t know if it was his fluids or yours, in fact it was probably a mix of both of them.

“Fuck Leon, can I touch you, please let me touch you,” Your hands ghosted over his crotch and his breath hitched.

“P-please,” Leon lifted his hips up and tried to yank his boxers down, in his futile attempt you had finished the job for him. 

His raging cock sprang out and smack him in the stomach. The tip was an angry red with pre-cum oozing out from the top. The vein underneath was bulging and all you could do was stare. Your own arousal slid down your leg on to his, “Fuck Y/N, take them off,” Leon’s voice had darken in demand, taking your bottom lip in your teeth you eagerly nod your head and lift off of Leon to slide your shorts off. Who were you to say no to him? 

Your sopping pussy was the most beautiful thing Leon has ever seen in his life his cock twitched, yearning to be stuffed deep in your dripping hole. 

“Can I touch it?” Your soft voice pulled Leon out of his trance. Leon eagerly nodded his head.

You clicked your tongue and lean into Leon’s ear, “Use your words baby,” the groan that came from the back of his throat was music to your ears. His grip on you was sure to leave bruises but you didn't mind, you wanted this night to last forever. 

“Fuck, yes! Touch me. Use me however you want, I'm yours,” You leaned back on his thighs and bent over slightly. Hovering over his angry cock you collected a ball of spit on the tip of your tongue. Parting your lips you let is slowly fall down on top of  his member. A thin string of saliva kept you connected before your pointer finger spread the natural lubricate.

Leon thought he was going to cum right then and there. He’s never cummed before, if that’s what it’s even called but the bubbling feeling in his groin was over whelming. His hips bucked into your hand for more friction. Being the loving girlfriend you are you gave him what he wanted and wrapped your hand around his pulsing cock. He was so thick your fingers barely touched each other on either side. Starting at a slow pace you went up up up, then down down down. Leon’s whimpers made you clench around thin air. You could see him tighten his core with each pump and you knew he wouldn’t last any longer. 

His strained gasps filled the room, “F-fuck, I’m going to c-cu-,” You were quick to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and kitten lick the slit. Salty pre-cum coated your tongue and you couldn’t have enjoyed the taste more. The warm feeling of your mouth caused Leon to jerk forward and grip your hair. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK,” sliding your head down further Leon pulsed in your mouth as hot streams of cum coated the back of your throat. Trying not to choke  you were quick to pull off of his cock and swallow every single last drop of cum he gave you. You pumped his cock a few more times before his hand gripped yours making your stop.

You sat up and bent over to the nightstand next to Leon, “Whenever we have sex you’re using a condom, if it’s not wrapped we’re not playing,” You opened the top drawer and tore a single condom off the string of them. 

“O-of course,” Leon’s breath was shaky.

 On the outside he might seem very nervous but on the inside he is doing cartwheels, he’s so excited to feel what it would be like to be inside of you. If your mouth was that heavenly you pussy had to be even better.

You hum in delight, “May I?”  His eager nods was enough conformation for you.

 Leon thought the look you gave him would make him cum on the spot. As you brought the shiny purple foil packet to your teeth, your eyes bore straight into his while you bat your lashes. You gripped the packet between your top and bottom teeth. As you pulled the packet down the foil slowly ripped open to reveal the lubed up latex. When you took it out of the wrapping your nose scrunched up at the slimy texture.  

��I’m going to put it on now,” Leon couldn’t form any coherent words. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and throw his head back.

You gently place the cold rubber on Leon’s red tip. The cool sensation caused him to buck his upwards. In one fluid motion you slide the condom down while his hips went up. You made sure to leave room at the top to collect his cum.  Still sitting back on his thighs you leaned back further putting your left hand on his ankle for support. Spreading your thighs apart you took your right hand and dipped your middle and ring finger between your folds. Your glistening pussy caused Leon’s dick to jerk on it’s own.

“Fuckk baby, you’re that wet?” Leon’s groans made you throw your own head back.

“See what you do to me Leon, you drive me insane,” You rubbed a few circles on your aching clit before slowing sinking your two fingers in your soppy hole. 

Gasping from the sudden intrusion your fingers curled up against your walls causing your juices to drip from your hand. 

“P-please, please please please let me feel you wrap around me, I can’t handle this anymore,” Leon begging was like a orchestra, an orchestra you could listen to all day.

Leon didn’t appreciate how lightly you took his begging, he was serious and he was dead set on being in you. Leon hooked his each hand behind your knees and slide you all the way to his chest. Chest to chest your hand was flushed against his crotch, although this didn’t last long. Wrapping your legs around his waist he dipped you back with your head slightly hanging off of the bed and him caging you in. 

Leon was quick to yank your hand out of your wet hole as he lowered himself in-between your thighs. “Are you okay if I get a taste?” 

You couldn’t believe your boyfriend, your sweet shy boyfriend is asking to eat you out. Lifting your head slightly you nod your as your wrap your fingers in his silky hair and buck your hips into his nose,

“Ah ah, use your words sweet girl,”

“YES! Yes please eat me out, I’ll do anything,” You shoved his head to your soaking core and he obliged to your begging.

Wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep them open he stuck his tongue out and licked one big stripe from your leaking hole to your puffy clit. The pornographic moan you let out had Leon slightly grinding his aching cock against the mattress. 

“hmm fuck, you taste s’good,” Leon feasted upon you like a starved man. His tongue abused your clit with his small kitten licks and occasional kiss. 

His nose bumped into your clit as he moved his tongue to your hole, teasing it slightly. Suddenly, he plunged his tongue in hitting the spongy spot you have dreamed about him hitting. Arching your back off the mattress your thighs squeezed his had as you pulled his hair. 

“Oh fuck,” 

“You like that baby?” His voice vibrated up your core causing your feet to curl. 

Leon took this reaction as a good sign and continued to hit the same spot over and over again, despite his muscle getting tired, he would do anything to make you cum. 

White spots invaded your vison as blood rushed to your hanging head. With the faint feeling and the overwhelming pleasure you could feel the knot tightening.

“Le-Leon,” Your breathes came out raggedy.

He hummed in acknowledgement sending more vibrations to your core, “I-I’m going to cu-cum, oh fuck,” 

“Let go pretty girl, cum all over my face. Gods you taste so sweet,” His pace quickened  and soon you were falling.

The knot snapped and stars flooded your vision as Leon drowned in your ecstasy. 

“Fuck, just like that,” His thumbs rubbed circles on your thighs as you came down from the stars. 

Leon slid your body down so your head was no longer hanging off of the bed. Your juices dripped from his chin onto your chest as he leaned over you caging your in.

“My sweet girl,” He crashed his lips into yours allowing you to taste your own juices. 

You wiggled your hand in-between your sweaty bodies and pumped his raging cock. Leon moaned into the kiss the faster you moved your hand. Pulling back Leon wiped the rest of your juices with the back of his hand. 

“Open up love,” Leon pinched your chin  between his pointer, his index and his thumb just like the morning paper he reads every Sunday.

He softly opened your mouth for you and shoved his middle and ring finger in your mouth, “Now suck,” 

The newfound dominance had you wanting more, always you wanted more. You loved seeing your boyfriend crack out of his shell. Of course, you loved his soft side too, but there something about the way he can easily over-power you and have you at his mercy that made your pussy throb.  

Following your orders, your tongue worked around each digit before giving each one their own undivided attention. You would suck occasionally as your tongue waltzed around his fingers. You guys stayed like this for a few moments, you pumping his cock while you sucked on his fingers.

Once Leon was satisficed with your work he was quick to pull his fingers out of your mouth, “Such a good girl,”

Your fingers trailed his as he lowered them down to your core, “May I?” He quickly glanced in your direction.

“Please Leon, stuff my pussy with your fingers,” you groaned as you bucked your hips up for some friction.

“Yea? My sweet girl wants to be full? I think I could mange that,” Soon, he plunged his wet fingers in your hole. You arched your back off of the bed as both your hand went to grip the bedsheet.

“No,no,no love, you still have jerk me off. Can you do that for me?” His angelic voice contradicted his sinful acts.

You simply nodded your head as you brought your right hand back to pump his cock. Leon’s fingers curled upwards hitting the tip of your cervix, that made you see stars. Your tongue stuck out with drool dripping down the side of your mouth and your eyes in the back of your head. Leon’s abuse on your cervix got harder and faster and all you could think about is coming undone again. Although this time it felt different.... too different.

Your right hand gripped Leon’s moving arm and you scrunched up and squealed in his ear, “Leon s-stop I’m go-going to p-” before you could finish your pleas clear juices came out like a waterfall. You had just squirted all over your boyfriend, from his chest all the down to his thighs. Leon had just made you squirt. An act you thought your body would never be able to do, especially during your first time, and your boyfriend had just proved you wrong. 

“oh what the fuck-” Leon mumbled under his breath as he pulled his soaked fingers out.

“What was that?” Leon was afraid he just hurt you. Did he break open something inside of you? are you in pain? Why the fuck was that so hot?

“Are you okay?” Falling back on the soaked bed you just nodded your head.

“I just squirted... Holy shit, I just squirted!” Leon was so confused.

“Sooo, I didn’t hurt or break you?” Your gazed soften at his concerned words.

“No love, you just took me to heaven and back. Now I want you to do it again. I can’t get enough of your Leon, I need you in me,”

“Are you sure, We can do that an-,” Your hand grabbed his still throbbing cock and led it towards your entrance.

“Please fill me,” 

“Who am I to tell you no, you’ve been so good to me tonight,” His hand wrapped around yours as he teased your hole before sticking to tip in.

 Leon thought he was going to cum right then and there. He was quick to pull back, “Baby I can’t, anymore and I’ll cum right away,”

“Come on baby, you can  it, I believe in you. Take a deep breath, you can do it,” Leon followed your soft words as he stuck the tip back in. He took a sharp breath in-between his teeth as he eased himself into you. His head was thrown back and his eyes were glued shut.

The burning sensation brought tears to your eyes, how were you going to fit his thick cock into you is a mystery but you will sure as hell will try to take it all. Leon was about half way in when he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you. Fat tears slide down your cheeks as your forearm rested over your eyes.

Leon lightly pulled your arm away placing your hand above your head as tangled his fingers with yours. “Baby look at me,” 

Opening your eyes you looked up to find Leon already looking back at you. His blue eyes bore into yours as he halted his movements.

“Are you okay?” His hand cups your face as he brushes a few stray tears away.

You nod your head a little, “Y-yes, the more you move the less it’ll hurt,” He just nodded his a head a little before he resumed his advancements. 

The feeling of your warm pussy sheathed around him almost hurt but he couldn’t bring himself to pull out. You needed this just as much as he did, and he is willing to give it all to you. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist with your feet slightly resting on his butt, pulling Leon in a little closer he finally bottomed out. All Leon could do is stay there in pure ecstasy.

“Let me know when you want me to move,” His words come out as a breathy moan as he looked down at you. Your bottom lip was trapped in-between your teeth as your eyes squeezed shut. 

Taking a deep breath in, on the exhale you opened your eyes, “Okay..” Leon barely missed your que for him.

Sliding his hips back he was quick to move them forward again. His pace was slow and steady as his hips rocked back and forth against yours. Your back arched up and off of the bed as your nails found salvation on Leon’s back that would for sure leave red marks in the morning. 

Leon dipped his head down near you ear, his sweet whimpers was the only thing you could hear. Moans pushed past your lips as you craved more.

“Faster,” You let out breathy moans as Leon  picked up his pace. 

The bed slightly creaked under your moving bodies as moans filled the room. With each thrust you were brought closer and closer to edge. Leon whispered sweet nothings into your ear. 

A bead of sweat formed in his hairline as he kept up his pace. Your pussy was squeezing him so tightly. He knew he was close, and he hoped you were just as close.

“Fuck baby I’m going to cum,” Slapping skin and moans filled the room as you each neared your release. 

Hot breath slid down your neck before Leon trailed kisses all along your collarbone.

“I’m close, I’m so so close,” Your words were like a mantra repeating over and over again.

Your clenched pussy made it harder for Leon to move as he got closer and closer. 

“Leon, Leon Le-,” Arching up and off of the bed you fully clenched around him as you were pushed over the edge. Your juices wrapped around his cock and dripped out between your bodies. 

The warmth of your pussy and wetness of your ecstasy was the final straw for Leon. “Fuck,” with one last slam of his hips into yours his cum filled the condom. 

Your eyes stayed shut as you focused on your breathing, Leon trailed soft kisses around your face before he reached your lips. His soft lips pressed into yours before he spoke up once again. “I love you so much.”

[starrdevereauxx]

I said last time would be the last time.

Brandon broke up with me 6 months ago. I’ve been a wreck for weeks on end. I promised myself to get over it, but it’s been such a hard thing to process. We would always fight, make up, make love and act like nothing ever happened. He was gone this time. This was the longest we ever been apart.

I try to find things to do to pass the time, but nothing ever seems to take my mind off him. I still smell him, breathe him, and feel him through my body. Our mutual friends always give messages about him, but I’ve been ignoring them lately. My heart can’t take listening to his name, let alone hearing of any accomplishments.

I need to run my errands today, but like everyday I become sad running them alone. We did everything together, after 6 years I can’t believe that we don’t do this anymore.

Heading to the grocery store I become sad with my list of groceries for one instead of two. I hop in my car and turn on “our” playlist. Hoping I can borrow a feeling from any song that plays. Another slow song begins to play and I’m seeing myself in the mirror. Envisioning him touching me, wishing my hands were his. Rubbing the side of my face, choking me ever so lightly. I literally just felt my pussy drip at this light.

“Get it together Dev” I say trying to convince myself that I’m over him. Knowing damn well I’m not. I can feel him inside my pussy when I think about him. The feeling intensifies with every breath I take.

I gather myself to go inside of the store, with my lonely list of single items. Looking at the list I just remember every single meal I ever made for him. Pouring my heart into each meal, now I can only make food for myself. I sob gathering myself for this lonely trip.

I walk through the store, gathering each item reluctantly. Wishing we were laughing together, talking about what we gonna pretend to watch on Netflix when we got back home. Saying pretend because it we wouldn’t make it pass the opening credits without his chocolate snicker veined dick engorged in my throat. He would be gagging me before we knew the name of the movie.

After looking at my cart, I figured I deserved a treat. I tried to maintain a healthy cart since I’m single, I need to stay in shape. The most physical activity I get is the gym these days, so I had to maintain some resemblance of care in my food intake. But with all the crying that I’ve been doing, today I deserve a treat. I decided to head back to the ice cream isle and help myself to something to lift my spirits.

As I walk to the back of the store with my headphones on, I’m letting Chris Brown sing me to a happy place. I almost begin to get a spring in my step as he’s talking about fucking someone back to sleep.

I make it to the ice cream section and I immediately look for Ben & Jerry’s tasty ass. I see it, straight ahead “Chunky Monkey”. I move my cart out of the way to reach for it. As I get ready to reach for the pint, I feel some thing grab me, startled I think I’m in trouble for climbing inside the refrigerator. Moving my headphones so I can hear, a deep, smoldering voice says

“that’s still your favorite ice cream I see, even though I also remember that your monkey was the only chunky I ever wanted”.

I’m fucking stuck. There’s only one voice I know that sounds like that, and my pussy dripping is letting me know exactly who it is.

“Brandon, oh wow. It’s crazy seeing you here. How are you?” I gulp nervously.

“You look good Dev, time has been good to you. But then again when has it not?” Brandon says as he looks at me like he’s about to take my throat from me right here in this store.

As I prepare to answer him, someone loudly over talks me.

“Babe, BABE.. do you want movie popcorn or kettle corn?” I turn to see a bubbly perky breasted young lady yelling to her significant other about popcorn. I turned back around to see if I see him, just for my heart to sink as I realize that there’s nobody here but me and Brandon here. She’s talking to him. Oh my God, he has a girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I was just trying to get a hold of my fiancé, I didn’t mean to bump you, my apologies” she smiles.

“Kettle Corn baby, thank you” he replies.

She skips off to honor his request. I stand there putting my broken heart back in my chest, not making it obvious that I’m literally breaking apart inside. FIANCÉ!?!? What in the fuck is this? After 6 years together, he never asked me to marry him. I’m even more convinced that it was never going to be me.

“Well congratulations to you and your fiancé, you deserve happiness. Be well Brandon.” I say tearfully as I run off, forgetting my ice cream. At this point I just want to disappear.

I get to the register, pay for my items and hurry to my car.

It was a long walk to my car. I always parked far from stores because I loved to get my steps in. Every step counts to me. So I had enough time to cry myself to the car and be over it by the time I started my car.

I open my trunk and back seat to place my purse down as I organize my groceries in the back, just incase if I needed room for a surprise bullseye store trip. I think after that encounter, I deserve some retail therapy now.

As I near the finish of my organization, I feel someone tap me from behind and say “I thought we discussed you parking way the hell back here. Nobody can see you back here.” Brandon says with what looks like chunky monkey ice cream in his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing back here? Where’s your fiancé? Why are you here? I-“ he stops me mid sentence, placing the ice cream in my hand.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about Keisha. You didn’t deserve to find out like this” he says looking at me sincerely.

“You don’t owe me anything, we are over. It’s your life. We have both clearly moved on.” I say proudly, pretending that I don’t feel like bending over right now and letting him turn me into a Twinkie.

He stares at me in my eyes with a look I haven’t seen in so long, but I remember well. I break contact and go back to packing my car so I can leave this awkward encounter.

He grabs my arm forcefully, making me drop my car keys in the backseat. Turning me towards him, forcing me to look at him. I begin to tear away in anger because I’m loosing control to my body.

“Get the fuck off me Brandon, what in the hell is your problem. Let me the fuck go.”

I try to break free from his grip. I feel his dick literally growing with anticipation the more I fight.

He stops me and looks me in my eyes. He’s subdued me with his piercing glare. He presses up against me, placing his hands on my body. One softly but firmly on my neck and the other on my left breast, lightly massaging it and grazing the nipple ever so softly. My breathing becomes shallow and scattered. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Isn’t his fiancé near by or in the car wondering where he is. I’m sure she’s looking for him. In this moment, I don’t think either one of us cares. My pussy is wet and gushing between my panties that I know is drenched at this point.

“I know you feel what I feel for you. I haven’t had a day go by that I haven’t thought about you Dev. We broke up, but never really let go. If you tell me to let you go right now, I’ll stop and walk away forever. You want me to stop?” He says while looking me in my dough eyes. I have no voice to even reply. My red lips are pursed and parted from the small breaths I continue to take. I shake my head no while staring him completely in his eyes.

He leans onto me, kissing me softly, hand still wrapped around my neck. He kisses my lips softly and becomes more aggressive every time he touches his lips to mine. He parts my lips to slide his tongue inside my mouth, I close my mouth to proceed to suck his tongue. Feeling now that his dick is rock hard.

“Show me that you still love me” he says as I’m already unbuckling his jeans. I drop to my knees and open my mouth. Giving him my entire throat to use as he pleases. Forcing my head on and off his dick, using my mouth as his personal pocket pussy. Grabbing both sides of my face, moaning loudly in this parking structure like we are outside alone. He literally has no fear of being caught in this moment. Brandon’s dick is so deep down my throat that he’s breathing for the both of us.

I feel his precum slip pass my lips. He stops. He pulls me off my knees and stands me up, just to pull down my leggings, revealing my cummed in panties. He begins to take his dick to rub my clit while I stand there defenseless.

Brandon forcefully turns me around, placing me in position. I automatically arch the posture of my back, taking my hands to spread my giant ass to show my wet dripping pussy that’s salivating for his erection to be inside me.

“Such a good girl, still obedient like I remember. Tell me what you want” he orders me.

“Fuck me hard please. Take my pussy from me” I say patiently waiting for him to beat my pussy like an Undertaker versus Mankind cage match.

He forces his dick inside my tight wet pussy, moaning hard as he enters. I grip him hard with my pussy as he’s thrusting aggressively in and out of me.

He’s pulsating inside of me as he’s moving. I’m feeling every inch of him as he’s continuing to grow inside of me. Just moving back and forth, harder and harder. I’m moaning so loud and hard, tears in my eyes from how good it feels to have his dick inside me. Holding my breasts as he’s making me take his dick roughly outside where everyone can see.

“Oh my God Dev, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m about to cum. Do you want it in your favorite place?” He says as I scream out “Yes” in reply.

I fall to my knees like a sinner who needs prayer, open my mouth to the heavens and wait for him to bless me. He releases an outpouring of his creaminess all over my face and mouth, as I devour every drop that hits my throat.

He moans as he shakes out every drop til he’s empty. I swallow the rest of him and what’s left of my pride as he kisses me in completion. My pants still around my ankles, he grips my ass holding me in place as he continues to kiss me softly.

I buckle his pants as he helps me with mine. I brush my hand across his face and we embrace each other knowing that he has to go.

“Goodbye Brandon.” I kiss him on the cheek. He walks away silently. Staring back a few times before he’s out of my view.

I said last time would be the last time.

Happy Monday 💋

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch

Long story short, I owe the BL gods, so I'll be watching TWO series from my Petty List during the month of June. This list includes shows I haven't watched for purely petty reasons, so I'm asking the crowd to pick the two shows I will watch from all the MAME series, some censored Chinese bromances, a few sexual tension-filled Korean bromances, and one wild card.

I'm making my first ever poll, so whichever two series get the highest numbers will be the two I watch. And for all the kind people in the crowd, this is not the time to think about me. Pick your favorite. And for all the people who I annoy on the daily with my wild ass takes that piss you off, pick TharnType. But there is a possibility of a secret thirteenth option that would hurt me much worse . . .

The petty ass reasons are below the poll.

Disclaimer: If you're going to read the petty ass reasons, I need you to understand these are PETTY ASS REASONS, so don't try to hit me with 2,000 words about why me not watching censored bromances is a problem or why me not liking your fave hurts your feelings. Nah. Pick a show!

MAME

Love By Chance

This show came out at the end of 2018, and I watched the first episode, maybe first two, and thought it was boring. Then, in 2019, I saw a GIF of the locker scene, so I recommitted. I made it past the first episode just when the PerthSaint drama started spilling out everywhere, so I chucked the deuces and haven't returned since.

TharnType

For some reason, I couldn't find the first episode when it aired. Then, I found out how the first episode ended. Then, I found out about Type's past. Then, I just kept finding out more awful stuff until eventually the MewGulf shit finally hit the fan, and I was still reeling from the PerthSaint drama (and the emerging ZeeSaint chaos). At this point, I've built this show up so much that I'm afraid to see what it is actually about.

Don't Say No

A story of another GIF of a locker room scene sucking me in! After the first two MAME pairs blew up, I believed her shows were cursed, so I opted out of watching this one even though I thought it would be the one to vibe with me the most. But the biggest reason was because the main characters came from TharnType, so I felt like I would have to watch TharnType to understand this show, which was a big hell nah.

Love in the Air

I watched this through mutuals on my dash, so I feel like I did watch it. It is also the highest rated MAME series, so I had faith in it. However, when I found out about Sky's past, TharnType's ghost popped back up, and I realized this demon of a show is gonna haunt me in every MAME series.

The Wedding Plan

Y'all hated one of the leads so much while it was airing that I now hate him, and I don't think I can let that go, so I'm coming in with pre-hate and TharnType's ghost, but on top of that, some of y'all said it was boring. But what is boring in a MAME series? Consent? Not kidnapping someone? I never got answers, so I'm very conflicted about this show.

Censored Chinese

The Untamed

It's color coded, but FIFTY FUCKING EPISODES! What is this shit? Grey's Anatomy? The fuck! Second, once China pulled Addicted, I was holding grudges for life because it crossed from entertainment censorship into real-world oppression, so I could not bring myself to support media from a country that openly discriminates against the queers when I live in America where our highest court is just one Supreme Court Justice away from making us all live in the damn Mojo Dojo Casa House.

Word of Honor

It's color coded, but THIRTY-SIX FUCKING EPISODES! What is this shit? Supernatural?! The fuck! Second, I don't know the difference between this and The Untamed. Both are color-coded, one of them has a lot of uncles (?), one of them has awful facial hair, and they all have pretty outfits. Every time someone makes a reference about these shows, I just nod the same way I do when people mention Star Wars because none of it makes sense.

Guardian

I spent two years believing Killer and Healer was Guardian. I haven't watched either, but I thought they were the same show. Honestly, if this show wins, I might just watch Killer and Healer because I will forget they are not the same show. Don't they both solve cases? And because it's China, past lives must be involved, no? I'm looking at their MDLs as I write this, and I'm still not convinced they are different.

Stay with Me

It's color coded, but I know how it ends, and word on the street is that IS the ending since a second season seems unlikely. China couldn't just let me be hurt over Addicted, the original. No. Gotta hurt me again with Addicted, the remake. Rude af.

The Spirealm

First off, SEVENTY-EIGHT FUCKING EPISODES! What is this shit? Law & Order: SVU?! The fuck! I know how this ends, and it ain't happy! I don't care how people are trying to spin it, so to sit through SEVENTY-EIGHT DAMN EPISODES just for that ending already has me irate. And don't try telling me Viki combined episodes so it's only thirty-four. That's still a lot. However, everybody who has watched it says it's phenomenal, so is the pain worth it or are these people all lying so they convince themselves it was worth it?

Korean Bromance

Beyond Evil

With most Korean dramas, I feel like I missing something important. Like some part of the story does not click with me and I stay lost for the rest of the show. I suck it up for the queers, but the not-queers-but-it-is-queer shows . . . nah, and especially one about cops . . . (-_-). Also, The Worst of Evil just showed, and it was another reminder that I need these cops to quit their jobs and just screw each other. Embrace "Be Gay. Do Crime"

The Devil Judge

I know enough about Kpop to know GOT7 would not let one of its members kiss a man in this show. I looked at those GIFs of Jeff Satur and Jackson Wang on their show knowing damn well that if Wang got too close to Satur, an entire management team would have ascended from hell and kidnapped both of them, so the promo for this show was so wild because it felt queerbait-adjacent, and I was salty about it.

WILD CARD!

This option will be automatically unlocked IF this stupid little poll gets 216 votes, so I have high hopes this will not happen since I ain't that popular and I hate this wild card which is . . .

SOTUS

This show is my original TharnType. It came out in 2016. I watched it live. I watched the sequel. I remember neither. New was in it? Off was in it?! WHAT?! I have no memory of this show except Krist wiping his mouth, and I have carried that with me for eight damn years. I loved Be My Favorite, so I thought I moved past whatever strange grudge I was holding against this man who doesn't know I exist nor care, but then I saw that trailer for The Ex-Morning, and unlike Elsa, I can't let this shit go, so I'm willing to play Jumanji and go back into the jungle to finish this once and all.

So what it's gonna be, mi gente. Which demons am I facing for Pride and what shows do I get to stay petty about? Help me decide!

[no-passaran]

you mentioned that it was beaten into your grandparents' generation to not speak catalan, but to speak spanish. did people in catalonia often not speak spanish before franco? what was the political situation of the language like before?

also, do catalan people prefer when spanish is called castellano? i know in romance linguistics it's often called that because spain has other languages, but i think catalan people often don't consider themselves spanish if i've understood it correctly

Yes, many people did not speak Spanish before Franco. For example, my grandma was born and raised in Barcelona right before the war (she was born in 1932) and she did not know any Spanish when she was a kid. She told me that one of the things she remembers the most of her childhood is how terrified she was that someone would find that out. She used to go with other kids of the street to sew with a elderly woman while their parents were at work (babysitting in working class neighbourhoods basically) and after Franco won the war this woman (who didn't speak Spanish either) told them in a made-up Spanish (adding an -o at the end of Catalan words and making them "sound Spanish" mixed with the very little Spanish she knew) that now it was very important that they all spoke Spanish when someone could hear because otherwise they could go to jail. So my grandma spent about a year when she did not say a single word on the street or outside of her family and close family friends. When she went to the market, she only pointed at things and nodded yes or no with her head or said the numbers by raising her fingers. She was very scared that she would be jailed with murderers and rapists. Even though I don't think children would be jailed for this (but it's not strange she believed it, because she had relatives who were in jail and were tortured, and the first years of dictatorship there was so much torture, executions and depravity that you ended up believing anything could happen), even if children wouldn't be jailed, they could still have gotten punished. She was still a kid, so at that age you learn quickly, so she could learn Spanish soon enough (or at least enough Spanish to pass well, because to be fair I've heard her speak Spanish now and every so often she still makes noticeable mistakes, even after decades of being married to my grandpa who is Spanish and speaking Spanish at home).

My parents (born in the 1960s), too, have told me that some of their classmates made mistakes and used Catalan words instead of the correct Spanish sentence. At that point, pretty much everyone in urban areas like ours already spoke Spanish well enough, but most people didn't use it often outside of school (unless they were Spanish immigrants or their children), so they made mistakes. And then the teacher beat them. It was the law that the punishment for speaking Catalan (and for many other things) in schools was corporal punishment. My mum was never beaten and was always at the top of the class and well-behaved, but even to this day she is still quite traumatized for what she saw. The only time I have seen her cry very desperately almost like an anxiety attack was when my grandma was talking about their teacher, because she remembers how he used to throw disobeying children to the floor and kick them, even when the kids were crying he'd still continue kicking them.

My parents have still met quite a few elderly people who didn't speak Spanish, only Catalan or Aranese (there was an Aranese man who used to come to my town for commerce, but it's no problem because Aranese and Catalan are mutually understandable, so they could have conversations where he spoke Aranese and the others spoke Catalan and it was fine, they just thought it was kind of funny). But I (and I dare to say almost everyone from my generation, except people who know someone with a strong mental disability and maybe some people from very rural areas) have not met anyone who speaks only Catalan and doesn't speak Spanish (excluding people from the Catalan-speaking areas that aren't under Spanish control, of course; because I have some friends from Northern Catalonia and there the bilingualism is Catalan+French, or even only French at this point for many young people).

You asked what the political situation of the Catalan language was before the fascists' victory in the Civil War. The situation was of course much better than during Francoism, for example we had the right to use Catalan in public, in schools (public schools taught in Catalan and even taught how to write Catalan), there were films dubbed to Catalan, Catalan radio, Catalan books, etc. and the huge amount of people in Catalonia spoke only Catalan in their everyday lives. However, there was still a strong political and social discrimination according to which Catalan was associated with the working classes and Spanish was seen as more classy (this was the case since the 1600s and intensified much more after 1714), but thanks to the Renaixença movement* Catalan had regained prestige to be used in literature and formal settings, even of the upper class, though conservative upper class (specially monarchists and fascists) still preferred Spanish. But we had done a lot of great steps in the right direction, and things were going very well. Better than ever before since Spain's invasion in 1714.

*the Renaixença was an artistic —and most important literary— movement of the 1800s that's basically our version of Romanticism but with a strong component of political and social fight for the rights of Catalan language and people.

I do not have any preference on whether Spanish should be called Spanish (español) or Castillian (castellano). In Spain, it's almost always called Castillian, so when I speak in Spanish I say castellano just because that's what I'm used to. But it's the same. It feels more correct to say Castillian because it's the language of Castilla, like you say "English" because it's the language of England (instead of saying "British"). But Spain is just Castilla and the lands it invaded, so when anyone says Spanish (language, culture, government, whatever) it means the Castillian one, and Spain has worked hard to make it clear that it does not include any of the occupied nations in its concept of country. So I always understand Spanish as referring exclusively to Castillian things (understanding Castilla to include all the Kingdom of Castilla, not only the modern-day administrative regions of Castilla. So, for example, including Andalucía and Extremadura).

I do not consider myself Spanish and I find it offensive when people try to say "Catalan is also Spanish because it's a language from Spain", it feels like saying that Catalan is nothing of itself, only belonging to Spain. It's forgetting that part of Catalonia has never been Spain (Northern Catalonia) and that Catalan is also the language of Andorra (an independent nation) and l'Alguer (a city in Sardinia inhabited by the descendants of Medieval Catalan settlers who moved there centuries before Catalonia was occupied by Spain). Their language is not "a Spanish language" and never has been, and either way I refuse to be reduced to that. Our language goes back centuries (with changes over time, of course, but it hasn't changed as much as English, we can read Late Medieval Catalan just fine), it has developed as independently as any other Romance language, with its own traditions and literature (the 1st vernacular literature in Romance languages btw!), so we are of ourselves, not "of Spain". I don't want our existence to be reduced to a possession of Spain. We should be described in our own terms.

So yeah, in Spanish saying both castellano and español are fine (some Spanish-speaking countries use one more or the other more), and in English I think it's better to just say Spanish, because that's the word that's used in English. But I don't really mind tbh.

I hope that answers your questions :)

[abbyshands]

I can't even lie; I think a lot of the reason that TLOU fans specifically seem to be so angry about the strike and annoyed at having to hear about what's going on in Palestine is because they don't want to be reminded of the reasons why they should no longer buy anything in relation to the game. They don't want to be made to feel bad if they bought the remaster, or merch, or just bought the games in general even after finding out about Neil being a Zionist and sending money to Israel. It's sad, honestly.

anon. THIS! 100% percent. people are too full of themselves to want to feel responsible, to be held accountable. and it’s not like we’re saying to never play the game again, you know, never like it again? i don’t think people realize that it doesn’t even work like that. you can very well play the game (or watch someone else do it) or watch the show n’whatever, just make sure you’re getting it secondhand or pirating it, etc. what’s so hard about that? i hardly own a video game i didn’t buy secondhand, and i know i’m not the only one who’s watched a movie or show on some random ass site. it isn’t that difficult. and if you want to get merch? places like etsy have a million things you can buy, things even better than nd’s actual stuff (and, obviously, you’re not funding a zionist in the process).

like, it’s one thing when you’ve already purchased things before you knew. okay, well now you do, and here’s your chance to compensate for that, at least a little bit. but going out of your way to buy the remastered or saying you’re gonna keep watching the show & whatever (from hbo, i mean), when you know all of this? that shit’s just fucked. neil druckmann does not need you to dick ride him for being an actual pos. like, what?

i can’t even get what’s so hard about remaining aware of the media you consume, especially in our world. it’s not even just the last of us you need to do this for: it’s any show or movie you watch, any game you play, any book you read. you can’t just not do that considering the world we live in today. i believe that’s incredibly ignorant, and to be less scholarly, dumb. i never believed i’d see the day where a genocide wouldn’t be enough to make someone’s heart break. to make someone fucking cry. to make someone not want to speak out about it, to do their part to get it to end. god, i can’t believe it.

but on a bit of a better note, it makes my heart swell to see people on here, especially most of my mutuals, using their voices and followings to spread awareness about this. can’t even explain how much i love you, how much you deserve the world. or to people like this anon, who aren’t attacking me or anyone else for doing the right thing, & speaking actual common sense ♡

sorry this was such a long response, but you really spoke to me on this one, anon !!! keep spreading awareness about these people suffering before our eyes, backlash & ridicule or not. FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE.

[kayas-kosmos]

Because of what's happening on Twitter...

I've made a little diagram to demonstrate why billionaires and the ultra-wealthy are bad for society.

(Text in Image)

"If we view society as a body, every sector is like a different organ within the body that serves a function and works in harmony with other organs to maintain balance. Every part of the body is important for the whole thing to function."

"The ultra-wealthy want you to believe they are the beating heart and thinking mind of the society – they are the innovators who create our jobs and their brilliance drives society forward. They deserve to be at the top of society because they have earned that. Without them, the body won’t function because they are the most important part."

"In reality, they are more like a malignant tumour, sucking all of the blood (resources) away from everything else (people and the planet) to fuel its own infinite growth, depriving the rest of the body and slowly killing it. Workers create all of the innovation and keep things running, the ultra-wealthy take all the credit."

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

This is a public domain image so feel free to pinch it for whatever.

Elon Musk has put the careers of thousands of small business owners who depend on Twitter (myself included) in jeopardy by completely running it into the ground. Before this, Mark Zuckerberg had already been doing the same when he started pursuing Metaverse, making Instagram and Facebook much more unusable for artists. Do I really need to go into other examples of CEOs and very normalised practise of wage theft?

Meanwhile, the UK currently has the richest Prime Minister in its history. What is this man doing with this wealth? Continuing the Tory legacy of austerity in order to line his pockets and the pockets of his crony friends. This has resulted in a devastating cost of living crisis that continues to ravage the country as people's energy bills skyrocket out of control.

My diagram is pretty basic and lacks nuance, there's definitely more I could elaborate on with this comparison but I really don't have time. I just want people to get the basic point of how billionaires view themselves vs what function they actually serve. I'm also not here to debate whether some organs are more important than others since I'm not a doctor, that's not really the point here. And no, I don't care if people think I'm being harsh by comparing billionaires to a tumour. If they don't want to be compared to one they should stop acting like one. Jeff Bezos could end world hunger right now and chooses not to.

Also, I know a lot of people are going to come at me with the argument that billionaires give away massive amounts of money. First off, people like Jeff Bezos only give large sums of money to charity a.) for the sake of improving their public image and b.) because giving to charity allows them to write it off in their taxes. Also, charities in of themselves have a lot of problems, but that's a blog post for another day. Mutual Aid is a better way to help people directly. Really, the ultra wealthy need to be taxed, of course they do everything within their power to avoid taxes.

Also:

"Earning a lot of money" and "holding onto a lot of money" are two different things. You cannot be a multi-millionaire unless you hold onto that money. If you give away massive chunks of it to enrich society, you cease to be a billionaire.

Oh and this is worth a watch, too.

Furthermore:

Also before the inevitable great man comments:

Being a billionaire is a moral failing. Nobody needs that much money.

[Slight edit here - I made the assertion that a billionaire could not spend all of their money in their lifetime, but as someone in the comments pointed out it's very easy for them to completely waste billions in no time. Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg have shown that].

Anyway, if you would like to see more anti-Capitalist art from me, I am currently working on a webcomic called "Flowerpunk" - a story about a group of anarchists who are trying to save the city of Wyrdon from a supernatural plague known as "the rot." The comic heavily discusses disaster Capitalism and how the rich will use mass death and destruction as an opportunity to further line their pockets.

I also like to do little anti-Capitalist doodles relating to this project, which I plan to make into posters at some point.

Please consider donating a Ko-Fi also if you would like to help support this project. I am really struggling at the moment because I've basically lost a massive chunk of my client base due to this Twitter implosion and also because of the AI BS that has made it impossible for me to get any reach nowadays. The last year or so has been an absolute nightmare for my career because of all of this.

Thank you all for your continued support! Hopefully I can re-establish my audience here on Tumblr and wherever else I decide to go.

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Sebastian vettle being a totalbsf to love to lovers type of situation with the reader who's a driver for another team

This took me shorter time than expected and I enjoyed writing it so much. In my head it takes places around the time where Sebastian was driving for Red bull, the fic is about 2k words long

The deafening roar of the crowd echoed in the air as Y/n crossed the finish line, her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't believe it, she won. It was not only her first win, but also she managed to do it in her rookie year. When she stepped out of the car, her team rushed towards her, their faces expressing happiness and pride.

That was the moment Y/n had dreamed of ever since she stepped a foot on the track for the first time. Hell, it was something she had dreamt of ever since she was a little kid. People told her she would never make it that far. Well, these people could go to hell now. Y/n was so proud of herself, that day she proved something.

Sebastian watched Y/n's team celebrate her victory. Even if she was on a rival team, she was still a friend of his. That was something nobody knew. It was their mutual decision to keep the friendship to themselves, just in case someone decided to accuse Y/n of making a career in motorsport thanks to her friendship with Sebastian. She deserved that win, she fought hard for it. In the past Y/n had to make choices, had to sacrifice a few things, a few friendships, one relationship with a guy who, according to Sebastian, didn't deserve her. But it all led her to where she was now - the first place on the podium. And Sebastian has been with her through all of this, they sticked together, quietly supporting each other, carefully staying out of cameras' sight. Of course people would accuse them of dating if they ever discovered their friendship.

He was so proud of her. He couldn't take eyes off her. Once she took her helmet off and Sebastian could see her face lit up with pure joy, she looked even more beautiful than ever. Their eyes met across the busy pitlane. Gosh, she was gorgeous. Maybe it was the way she smiled at him, but Sebastian felt his face turn red. Was she always that beautiful?

Just minutes later Y/n found herself running towards Sebastian. They didn't have much time right before the podium ceremony and between interviews.

"I did it, I did it!" Y/n exclaimed, almost causing her friend to fall over when she crashed her body into his, closing him in a tight hug. "Seb, I won the race!"

"That's great, Y/n. I'm so proud!" He managed to say despite being quite shocked. What happened to keeping the friendship a secret?

Not going to lie, it didn't feel real. It certainly made Sebastian's heart skip a bit. Of course, he didn't let his confusion ruin Y/n's mood. He reciprocated the embrace, putting one of his hands on Y/n's back and the other on the back of her head. Damn it, her hair was so soft, even after spending so much time in that car with her hair trapped under the helmet, it didn't lose the softness.

What the hell was he even thinking about? Why was he thinking about it? And again - what happened to their agreement? They were probably already caught by some camera and Y/n didn't seem to care even a tiny bit.

"Y/n..."

"Yes, Seb?"

"We... weren't supposed to display our friendship."

Y/n slightly pulled back out of the hug. Her smile was a little smaller now, after Sebastian pointed that out.

"I just..." She tried to explain, her voice soft with uncertainity. "Do you think it matters now?"

"Well, you started that. You didn't want people to know about our friendship for the sake of your career and I agreed. Because I... care about you."

Y/n's breath got stuck in her throat, she stayed silent for a longer moment. He cared about her. Of course he did, they were friends, he cared about her the same way she cared about him. That's what friends do. They care about each other. But... the tone of his voice. There was something in the way he said these words. Almost as if they had a secret meaning.

"I know. I never doubted that." She said eventually, ignoring her thoughts. "Thank you for being here for me. Sorry you didn't make it to the podium today."

"That's okay," Sebastian smiled, "now go, they're waiting for you. We can talk about the privacy of our friendship later."

Y/n nodded and headed towards the podium. She smiled, waving at people. Somehow, Sebastian's words hung in her mind. He cared about her. His words carried an emotional depth. Y/n knew there was a second meaning, but she had to yet figure out what it was.

The cameras did catch them that day. The whole world saw Y/n running towards Sebastian. Hugging him. And him hugging her back. But that was alright. They decided that from now on their friendship wasn't going to be a secret anymore. They kept supporting each other through ups and downs, to victories and defeats, and it was way easier when people were aware of their friendship.

Friendship. Whoever was close to them could easily tell that word didn't describe the bond between them well. It evolved into something more than that. It was subtle at first, hidden in fleeting glances or lingering touches that sparked a warmth in their hearts. It were the little things. The way Sebastian's gaze lingered a second too long, the way Y/n's heart raced whenever he was near. That spoke volumes. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the truth began to reveal itself.

Y/n and Sebastian were falling for each other, slowly and inevitably, without even realizing it themselves. The love grew between them slowly all along, but the both of them brushed off any evidence the other one could feel something more. Maybe they unconsciously sabotaged what could happen if they confessed their feelings. So many things could go wrong. Their conversations were filled with banter and jokes, trying to mask the tension. It was as if they were dancing on the edge of a cliff. One wrong move and everything goes down, including them.

At some point, it became frustrating. It wasn't even like tiptoeing around their emotions. It was like walking on eggshells. Their friendship became suddenly so fragile. They were heading towards something they were trying to avoid so desperately.

Sebastian decided to put an end to this. He had enough, he didn't want to continue tiptoeing around their feelings, pretending that everything was normal when it clearly wasn't. They needed to have a conversation about this.

It was evening. Another race weekend had passed and on the next day they were heading out of the hotel. Just as Y/n changed to pajamas, ready to sleep, she heard knocking on her door.

She sighed to herself, nor expecting any guests. Being the nice person she is, she decided to see who might have had a need to see her. She didn't necessarily expect to see her best friend.

"Sebastian? It's a bit late."

"I know," he walked inside the room, not waiting for an invitation, "but I'm sick of it. I can't keep going like that."

"What are you talking about?"

The girl knew what he meant, but she tried to avoid the topic like she had been avoiding it for the past few months.

"You know what I'm talking about," Sebastian ran his hands through his hair, "we can't keep pretending. We need to talk about us, Y/n."

Y/n felt her heart speed up. It was about to start pounding as fast and hard as it did the day she won her first race a few months ago.

"Seb, no." She refused, knowing that this conversation had been a long time coming, but that didn't make it any easier to face.

She knew him. She knew Sebastian was the kind of person who always had to get what they wanted. And now he wanted to talk. He wanted to have a serious conversation with her and he was going to have it.

But despite her reluctance, Y/n knew that she couldn't keep avoiding the inevitable. They needed to address the tension between them, to lay everything out on the table and finally confront their feelings.

"Alright, Sebastian," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Let's talk."

Sebastian took a deep breath. He had never been one to shy away from speaking his mind, to assertively pursue what he wanted. So why did he feel so vulnerable in this moment?

"Okay, fuck it." He said that rather ti himself. "Y/n, I think I am in love with you."

The words hung heavy in the air, filling the hotel room with tension. With desire. The silence was deadly.

Y/n felt the same, of course she did. She didn't know how or when it happened, but she was in love with her best friend. She had no idea why no words left her mouth that time. It felt as if something was stuck in her throat, nit allowing Y/n to make a sound.

It was just so overwhelming for her to have Sebastian admit his feelings just like that. He laid his feelings in front of her and now the choice was hers, the next move depended on her.

She wanted to tell Sebastian that she felt the same, that she had been longing for this moment as much as he had.

"I..." Y/n paused, god knows what for, "Seb, we can't. We can't be together. You're my best friend."

Her heart ached at the weight of the words she spoke. For a moment she wished she hadn't said that. But she did and she couldn't take that back.

"The healthiest relationships start with friendships. Y/n, I am in love with you and don't even try to tell me you don't feel the same." His eyes bore into her. He wasn't the man to give up easily and he certainly wasn't going to give up on a chance with the woman he loved. And he knew she loved him too, even if she was scared to admit it. But he needed her to say it.

It was obvious. He felt it. In the way she spoke, in the way her behavior changed around him. The both of them felt something more than friendship and it was evident.

As Y/n met his gaze, she realized that he was right. Even if she was running away from that thought, even if she was hiding this from herself, he was right. She was in love with him.

In that moment, Y/n knew that she couldn't deny the truth any longer. She was in love with Sebastian, just as he was in love with her. And no matter how hard they tried to resist it, their hearts were bound together, beating in the same rhythm.

"I don't know what to say." She admitted.

"The truth." He said softly. "Or don't say anything. That's okay too." His voice was filled with some kind of warmth, so familiar to Y/n.

"I don't wanna lose you, Seb."

"You won't. Our friendship is the foundation, we'll never lose that. I'll make sure of that. You mean everything to me." His gaze never left her. He appreciated how vulnerable she was being right now.

Y/n knew in that moment that she could trust him with her heart, that he would always be there for her no matter what.

"You mean everything to me too. I... I love you too." As she spoke these words, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest. A sense of peace washed over her body.

Y/n closed her eyes, feeling the tears approaching the surface, and she felt her best friend closing her in an embrace. Surrounded by the warmth of Sebastian's such close presence, Y/n knew that their love was stronger than any fear or uncertainty.

Together, they would defeat any storm that came their way, bound together by a love that was undeniable and strong. And now they weren't going to hide it. Not anymore. They were proud of their feelings and they were going to let everyone know, celebrating victories together with romantic gestures on the podium, everybody was going to know Y/n and Sebastian were together. The whole world could be against them, but it didn't matter as long as they had each other.

[argisthebulwark]

A Feast for My Eyes Only

summary: Small things that I believe would turn on some of our favorite Skyrim guys. gn reader, no y/n or pronouns used. featuring: Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Vilkas, Balimund, Mercer, Teldryn warnings: Sexually suggestive content, minors do not read or interact. tagging @daedrabait because once again i am mercerposting

Miraak claims to be unaffected by mortal temptations until he meets you. When he witnesses how naturally you control the Thu’um and he feels the ancient power that resides deep within you. It is when you have him pinned, blade at his throat and eyes brimming with determination that his blood heats. He's never seen such beauty. Apocrypha crumbles at your voice, hand twisted into his robes to hinder any chance of escape when he dives in for the first kiss, unable to contain himself any longer.

Farkas is a sucker for your touch. Something as simple as you brushing hair out of his face or aiding in the placement of his armor is enough, he loves being able to touch you. After a long day he leaves Jorrvaskr behind to return home at your side. Farkas wants nothing more than to sink into a warm bath together, no armor in the way of allowing him to appreciate each inch of your body. He loves the way his hands look on your skin and the way your fingers trace along his scars, every small touch fueling the fire in his heart.

Brynjolf has become rather addicted to watching you work. When you skulk through a wealthy neighborhood in search of all their easily forgotten baubles and he struggles to track you his blood starts pumping. He follows you upstairs into some nobleman’s lavishly decorated chambers, stealth forgotten in his bid to spread you out on that ridiculously expensive bedding. He wants to make you writhe, to hear you moan until the neighbors know just how exquisite he alone can make you feel. 

Vilkas finds it extremely difficult to maintain composure when you are demanding. When you command that he rests he is entirely at your whim. He is thrilled by your hands on his chest shoving him into bed, your body straddling his, the bliss of someone else in complete control of him. He’d never admit it to anyone else but he would beg for just one more taste of you. He gazes at you, knowing that he made the right choice loving the one person who brings him to his knees.

For Balimund, he finds that he is most undone by you when you are free from all the titles and duties. When you are wearing his shirt and lounging together. He finds you the most alluring when you are warm and cozy, wrapped around him without a worry in the world. He cannot keep his hands to himself when you are relaxed in his bed, everything forgotten but one another. When your skin is warm against his, hands sliding easily under loose clothes and sheets twisted around your bodies.

Despite his many secrets, Mercer seems to get a thrill out of the danger of being caught. Whether you’re spread over the messy desk he treasures or against the Vault’s chilly metal doors he loves to hear you moaning his name, each sound echoing through the Cistern. It's like he's daring one of the thieves to notice, blood heating each time someone mentions the marks you've left on him.

Teldryn has always enjoyed your banter but found himself head over heels when the mutual flirtation began to seep in. It is only when you cut the innuendo and lay it all out that he feels himself at a loss for words, when you tell him how badly you desire him and every impure thought that’s plagued your mind. He loves the way you speak to him, how vulnerable you are when it's just the two of you.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Cost of Fame

(37)Cillian Murphy x F! (23)Famous Reader

Summary: You are currently in a presscon for your new album, an interviewer asked you about your relationship with Cillian.

Wordcount: 5.6k

Warnings:

Switch! Cillian, unsafe sex, m! overstimulating, m! & f! oral receiving and giving, handjobs, fingering, p in v, soft/dirty talk, aftercare, younger reader, like by 14 years. So she’s 23 lolz.

She smiled at the interviewer, the question about your relationship with Cillian Murphy one she’d faced many times before. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, knowing that her answer will be scrutinized and analyzed by both fans and critics alike.

After several questions about your music and upcoming projects, the interviewer stood up, his expression sharp and confrontational. She recognized him immediately as someone who thrived on controversy.

“Do you think Cillian is having a mid-life crisis by dating someone your age?"

The interviewer’s question hangs in the air, charged with insinuation. She took a moment, maintaining her composure, and then meet their gaze with a calm, confident smile.

“Cillian and I have a relationship built on mutual respect and genuine affection,” she begin. “It’s disappointing that people might reduce our connection to a cliché like a mid-life crisis. Cillian is an incredible person with a deep understanding of life, and he values me for who I am, not just my age.”

"Do you think Cillian sees you as more of a trophy girlfriend because of your age and beauty?"

The fuck is with this interviewer man..Jesus Christ

Maintaining her composure despite the intrusive nature of the question, takes a moment before responding. Her expression is calm but resolute, reflecting both her confidence and the depth of her feelings for Cillian.

"I understand why some people might think that way," she begins, her voice steady and measured. "But those who know Cillian and our relationship understand that it goes far beyond superficial attributes like age or appearance."

She takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. "To suggest that he sees me as a 'trophy girlfriend' is to undermine the very essence of what we share. We challenge each other, support each other, and grow together.”

Her eyes soften as she continues. "Cillian has always made me feel valued and respected for who I am as a person, not just for how I look or my age. That's something I deeply cherish about our relationship."

She finishes with a confident smile. "So, to answer your question: No, I don't believe Cillian sees me as a trophy. He sees me as his partner, his equal, and someone he truly loves."

She had walked into this interview feeling ready for any kind of questions they might throw at you but for god’s sake she wasn’t prepared for any of these questions.

"Given your significant age difference with Cillian Murphy, do you think you’re being taken advantage of in your relationship? Or do you believe it’s just a phase you'll grow out of once you mature a bit more?" he asked, his tone dripping with insinuation.

The room fell silent, the question hanging in the air like a dark cloud. She felt a rush of heat flood her face, a mix of anger and hurt. The insinuation was clear, and the disrespect stung deeply.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, but the anger was too raw. "Excuse me?" She said, her voice steady but laced with a cold edge. The interviewer didn't back down, his eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a reaction.

"Do you think your relationship is genuine, or is it just a means for publicity?" he pressed on, clearly sensing he had struck a nerve.

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. The room collectively held its breath. "I don’t have to justify my personal life to you or anyone else," she said, her voice firm. "This interview is over."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out, the silence behind her was deafening. The press conference, with its blinding lights and probing questions, had left her drained. The whispers of the journalists faded as she made her way down the elegant staircase of the venue, the heels of her shoes clicking rhythmically on the marble steps.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she navigated to Cillian’s number. The screen seemed to blur momentarily as the fatigue from the day caught up with her. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the call button and held the phone to her ear, listening to the steady ring. She loved Cillian, but sometimes he was a bit slow to pick up the phone.

Finally, the call connected, and you heard his familiar, comforting voice. "Ey’ love, how’d it go?"

Her breath shook a bit as she responded, "Cill, definitely not a fun interview."

"Do you want to talk about it when you get home?" His concern was evident, and it warmed your heart.

"Yes, it would be nice," she replied softly.

"I love you," she said before hanging up. The weight of the day seemed to lift slightly with those three words. She slipped her free hand into her purse, pulling out her favorite pair of bulky Louis Vuitton sunglasses. They were perfect for hiding from the paparazzi, who were most definitely outside waiting for her.

With a sigh, she put on the sunglasses. As she stepped out into the waiting throng of photographers and reporters, she felt a rush of flashes and shouts. The cameras were relentless, capturing every moment of her exit. But she held her head high, knowing that she had someone waiting for her at home who loved her unconditionally. The drive home was filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. She couldn't wait to see Cillian, to feel his arms around her and hear his comforting words. The scrutiny and judgment from the public seemed to melt away when she was with him, replaced by a profound sense of peace and understanding.

As she pulled into the driveway of her shared home, she saw Cillian waiting on the porch, a soft smile on his face. He stood up as she approached, his eyes filled with concern and love. She stepped out of the car after bringing it to park and he opened his arms, enveloping her in a great big hug.

She buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the tension of the day melt away. "I'm glad you're home," he whispered, his Irish accent a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

Cillian pulled her out of the gentle hug and looked into her eyes, his gaze full of warmth and affection. With a tender smile, he brushed aside some strands of hair from her face, his fingers lingering softly against her skin. Cupping her cheeks, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her soft lips, savoring the moment.

"Even though it's a day, I can't stand to be without you," he murmured, his Irish accent adding a charming lilt to his words.

She smiled against his lips, her heart swelling with the love she felt for him. "It's the same feeling over here, y'know," she replied, her voice filled with emotion as she leaned back in for another kiss, not wanting the moment to end.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside faded away. In that moment, it was just the two of them, their hearts beating in unison, their souls intertwined. The future was uncertain, but as long as they had each other, they knew they could face anything that came their way.

With a soft sigh, she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I love you, Cillian," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I love you too, more than words can say," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity and devotion.

Together, they stood there, wrapped in a cocoon of love and contentment, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other to lean on.

Some days had passed, and now her and Cillian were in the kitchen together, a comfortable routine having settled between them. The midday sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room as she busied herself making lunch. The aroma of fresh ingredients filled the air, mingling with the sound of a soft melody playing from the TV.

Cillian leaned against the countertop, his eyes following her every move. He watched as her hips swayed gently to the rhythm of the song, a small, contented smile playing on his lips. There was something mesmerizing about the way she moved, a natural grace that seemed to come effortlessly to her.

"You know, you have a knack for making even the simplest tasks look enchanting," he remarked, his Irish accent adding a melodic charm to his words

She glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze with a playful glint in her eyes. "Is that so?" she replied, her voice light with amusement. "Maybe it's just the company I'm keeping."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Flatterer."

Turning back to her work, she couldn't help but feel a warm flush of happiness. The kitchen had always been a place of comfort for her, but having Cillian there, sharing these simple moments, made it even more special. She reached for a spoon, stirring the pot with a rhythm that matched the music.

Cillian took a step closer, his presence a comforting weight behind her. "What are we having today, chef?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Just something simple," she replied, smiling as she looked up at him. "A bit of pasta with fresh vegetables. Nothing too fancy."

He nodded appreciatively. "Sounds perfect to me."

She returned to her task, feeling his gaze still on her. It was moments like these that made her realize how deeply she cherished their time together. Despite their busy schedules and the constant demands of their careers, they always found a way to make these everyday moments feel extraordinary. As she plated the food, she turned to him with a satisfied smile. "Lunch is ready. Hope you're hungry."

Cillian pushed himself off the counter and moved to help her, his hands gentle as he took the plates. "Always am when you're cooking," he said, a hint of teasing in his tone.

They sat down at the table, the soft music providing a backdrop to their conversation. They talked about their days, their plans, and shared laughter over little jokes. It was in these simple exchanges that they found their strongest connection, a bond that went beyond the glamour of their public lives.

At one point, she reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his hand. "I'm really glad you're here," she said softly, her eyes reflecting the sincerity of her words.

He squeezed her hand gently, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that took her breath away. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied, his voice low and earnest.

They finished their meal, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the room. As they cleared the table, Cillian wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You know," he murmured, "I’m glad you’re mine..”

After a long day, Cillian and she had just finished a relaxing shower, the warm water soothing their tired muscles. They stood in front of the mirror, drying off and getting dressed, a comfortable silence enveloping them.

Once they were both dressed, they retreated to their bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. They crawled into bed, the sheets cool against their warm skin, and snuggled under the covers, a sense of contentment settling over them. They turned on the TV and started a movie, the sound filling the room with a comforting background noise. Cillian wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, her head resting against his chest. They lay there in comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle hum of the movie and the steady rhythm of their breathing.

As the movie played, Cillian occasionally brushed his fingers through her hair, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. She tilted her head up to look at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. He met her gaze, his eyes warm and full of love. She shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of the sheets against her skin as she moved to sit on Cillian's lap. His cock wrapped in the thin layer of a soft polyester pressed against her inner thighs, his body radiating a comforting heat that enveloped her as she settled into his embrace.

Cillian's breath caught in his throat as her thighs applied just enough pressure to elicit a response from his now throbbing cock. He shifted uncomfortably under her, his body betraying him in the most deliciously agonizing way.

"Cill..." she murmured softly, her voice a gentle whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. "I can feel you throbbing..."

His face flushed bright red, embarrassment and desire warring within him. "I know," he admitted, his voice strained with restraint. "I can't help it... but it's fuckin’ hard not to be hard when you're on top of me like this..."

Feeling his discomfort, she slid off his lap, her movements careful and deliberate. He grunted softly, the loss of her weight leaving him feeling strangely empty. She pulled back the covers, her eyes drawn to his predicament, his cock pitching a tent in his boxer briefs. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight, arousal pooling low in her belly at the thought of him, so achingly hard and desperate for her attention. She could see the head twitching, a damp stain where his pre-come was dripping from, evidence of his arousal and need.

"It fucking hurts," he confessed, his voice strained as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

Without a word, she reached out, her fingers trailing lightly over the fabric of his boxer briefs, feeling the heat radiating from his straining cock. She could feel his pulse racing beneath her touch, his need palpable in the air between them. His hips were bucking up towards her hands.

“You’re a needy lil’ thang aren’t yah?”

Gently, she tugged down his boxer briefs, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. He hissed softly at the sudden exposure, his arousal on full display for her to see. Without hesitation, she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, her tongue darting out to taste the salty sweetness of his pre-cum.

Cillian's breath caught in his throat, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as pleasure washed over him in waves. "God, please," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with need. "I need you, love... please..."

Her tongue danced around the tip of his cock, teasing and testing, exploring every sensitive nerve. She took her time, savoring the salty taste of his pre-come, her touch both gentle and deliberate. Today, she wanted to hear him pant, beg, whine, and break. This side of her emerged on certain days, a side that reveled in having Cillian at her mercy. Cillian's hands were pressed against his face, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But it was a losing battle. He couldn't help the soft, desperate sounds escaping his lips as her tongue worked its magic on him.

"God, love, please..." he whispered, his voice trembling with need.

Ignoring his pleas for now, she continued her slow, torturous ministrations. She flicked her tongue over the sensitive slit, then swirled it around the head, before taking him just an inch into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and Cillian's hips bucked involuntarily. She let out a soft, pleased hum as she felt him twitch against her tongue, and it vibrated around him, sending a shiver through his entire body. Slowly, she began to take more of him into her mouth, inch by inch, until her lips were stretched around him, and he was pressing against the back of her throat.

Cillian's hands moved to her hair, threading his fingers through it and holding on for dear life. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he fought to keep from thrusting up into her mouth. The feeling of her hot, wet mouth around him was almost too much to bear.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're so fuckin’ good at this."

She took him even deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate him, her nose brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. She could feel his body tensing, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back his climax. She pulled back slightly, her tongue still swirling around him, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him hard. Cillian let out a strangled cry, his grip tightening in her hair. He was close, so close, and she knew it.

Determined to push him over the edge, she increased her pace, bobbing her head up and down, taking him as deep as she could with each movement. The room was filled with the lewd sounds of her mouth working on him, and his increasingly desperate gasps and groans.

"Please, love, I can't... I'm gonna..." he panted, his voice breaking.

And then he was there, his body tensing, his hips bucking as he came hard, spilling into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, her tongue still working to prolong his pleasure, to milk every last bit of his orgasm. Cillian's hands fell from her hair, his body collapsing back against the bed, utterly spent. She released him gently, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock before crawling back up to lie beside him, her own arousal thrumming through her veins.

Turning to look at his flushed face and listening to his panting breaths, she felt a renewed wave of desire wash over her. She wanted more, but would he be able to survive it? There was only one way to find out.

“You’re so good for me, Cill, so good for me,” she murmured, her voice a husky whisper in the quiet room.

Her hand moved slowly to his semi-soft cock, which lay against his abdomen. Her thumb traced circles around the head, collecting the beads of cum and spreading them along his length. He let out a soft She began rubbing her thumb against his slit once again, watching his every move with an almost predatory intensity.

Cillian groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he buried his face in the soft nape of her neck. "B-baby... you’re gonna kill me if you do that again," he groaned, his voice laced with both exhaustion and undeniable arousal.

Cillian threw his head back as her thumb continued its slow, deliberate movements on his already weak, fragile, and sensitive cock head. His body trembled under her touch, each gentle stroke sending waves of electricity through him. He buried his face into her chest, his soft and begging moans filling the air, creating a symphony of desperation and need.

"Please," he whispered, his voice muffled against her skin. "I can't... I can't take much more."

Her hand started to move slowly up and down his shaft, each stroke a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through her chest as she hummed a tune, the melody wrapping around them both in the intimate setting.

“You’re already a mess,” she teased, her voice a sultry whisper. “Come on, make a bigger one for me, eh?”

His body shuddered at her words, the raw need in her tone making his cock twitch in her grasp. “I-I can’t... it’s too much,” he gasped, his voice a broken plea. She smiled, a wicked glint in her eye as she continued her slow torture, her hand squeezing gently at the base before gliding up to the sensitive head again. His hands clutched at her back, his nails digging into her skin as he tried to hold on, tried to control the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. But her touch was relentless, each stroke, each caress pushing him closer to the edge.

“You’re going to come for me again,” she whispered, her voice a command wrapped in velvet. “And you’re going to love it.”

Cillian’s breath hitched, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he couldn’t deny her, couldn’t resist the pull of her words, the promise of cumming in her hand. “Please,” he moaned, his voice barely a whisper. “Please, make me come.”

Her hand moved faster, her strokes more insistent, driving him towards the brink with a skill that left him breathless. “That’s it, love,” she encouraged, her lips brushing against his ear. “Cum in my hand, yeah…that’s it you slut.”

With a final, desperate cry, Cillian’s body convulsed, his cock pulsing in her hand as he came hard, his cum painting her hand and his abdomen in a white, hot, and sticky spurts. He buried his face deeper into her chest, his moans muffled but no less intense. She continued to stroke him through his orgasm, milking every last drop from him until he was a shaking, trembling mess in her arms. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “You did so well~…”

His breathing was erratic, chest heaving as he tried to regain control, but it didn't matter. She clearly wanted more. Her intentions were unmistakable, and the desire in her eyes left him both helpless and exhilarated. His mouth hung open, a desperate gasp escaping his lips as he practically drooled on her chest, the dampness seeping through her thin shirt and onto her skin. It was a sight that drove her wild, seeing him so utterly undone by her touch.

"Honey, I'm-ima old man... you can't ju-"

She cut him off mid-sentence, her hand wrapping around his sensitive cock again. This time, her strokes were slow and deliberate, each movement designed to drive him insane. His protests died on his lips, replaced by a low, guttural moan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.

“Yeah..but you’re also a fuckin’ slut whose begging for more”

His eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling under her touch. "Fuck... you're killin' me," he groaned, his accent thick with desire and exhaustion. He tried to hold on, tried to resist the overwhelming sensations, but it was futile. She had him completely at her mercy.

Her hand continued its slow, torturous rhythm, the slick sound of her strokes filling the air. She watched his face intently, relishing every twitch, every gasp, every whimper that escaped his lips. "You're so good for me," she murmured, her thumb brushing over his leaking slit, making him shudder. "Just one more time, love. You can do it."

His head fell back, mouth open wide as he panted and moaned. He could feel his release building again, the pleasure almost too intense to bear. "I... I can't... it's too much," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, you can," she insisted, her strokes becoming a fraction faster, her grip just a bit tighter. "Come for me again”

His eyes flew open, locking onto hers as his release approached. With a strangled cry, he came, his cum spilling over her hand in hot, sticky ropes. She continued to stroke him through his orgasm, drawing out every last drop until he was a quivering, whimpering mess.

"That's it, love," she soothed, her voice like honey. "You're perfect."

He collapsed against her, completely spent. His breathing was ragged, his body slick with sweat.

She leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "Baby... I'm so fuckin' wet from watchin' you come so much..."

Cillian's mind raced, her words sending a jolt of electricity through his body. Despite the exhaustion from his recent climax, his cock began to stir again, the thought of her arousal igniting a primal hunger within him. He glanced down at her, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. He could practically taste her, the anticipation making his mouth water.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice rough and low. "You don't know what you do to me."

With a sudden burst of energy, he flipped her onto her back, his body hovering over hers. His eyes locked onto hers, a mix of lust and adoration swirling in their depths. "I need to taste you," he growled, his Irish accent adding a delicious edge to his words. "Like it's my last meal."

She shivered with anticipation, her body responding to his intensity. He kissed his way down her body, each touch of his lips a promise of what was to come. When he reached her hips, he paused, looking up at her with a smoldering gaze before hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and sliding them down. Her wetness caused her cunt to practically glisten under the light. Cillian settled between her legs, his breath hot against her inner thighs. He inhaled deeply, the scent of her arousal driving him wild. With a groan of pure need, he finally dipped his head, his tongue darting out to taste her. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as his tongue explored her folds, savoring every drop of her essence.

His movements were slow and deliberate at first, savoring her taste and the way she writhed beneath him. But as her moans grew louder and her hips began to buck, he increased his pace, his tongue moving with a fervent intensity. He latched onto her clit, sucking gently before flicking it with his tongue, driving her closer to the edge. Cillian didn't want to let up. With a determined glint in his eyes, he gently pulled her legs over his shoulders, angling her hips to grant him even deeper access. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to savor every drop. The sheer pleasure of it had his cock throbbing with need, the hardness almost painful. He couldn't resist the urge any longer.

With his left hand, he moved to grasp his twitching cock, the contact sending shivers down his spine. He began to stroke himself in time with the rhythm of his tongue on her, his moans mingling with hers, creating a symphony of shared pleasure. His mouth worked diligently, his tongue exploring her depths with fervent hunger. The taste of her arousal was intoxicating, driving him to delve deeper, to lick harder. He groaned softly against her, the vibrations causing her to gasp and arch her back. Drool mixed with her juices as he devoured her, his need for her evident in every lick and suck. He stroked his cock faster, the slick sounds of his hand moving over his shaft adding to the erotic atmosphere. His breaths came in hot, heavy pants, each exhale fanning over her sensitive skin and sending tremors through her body.

She writhed beneath him, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, her moans growing louder with each passing second. "Cillian... please..." she whimpered, her voice thick with desire.

He responded by increasing his efforts, his tongue moving with a relentless pace as his hand continued to work his cock. The dual sensations were driving him to the brink of madness, his own moans becoming more desperate as he chased his release.

"Fuck, you're so good," he groaned against her, his words muffled by her flesh. His own pleasure built to a crescendo, the sensation of her wetness on his tongue combined with the tight grip of his hand on his cock pushing him closer to the edge.

Her body tensed beneath him, her moans reaching a fever pitch as she approached her climax. The taste of her arousal became more potent, spurring him on. With a final, deep suck on her clit, she came undone, her orgasm crashing over her in powerful waves. He growled against her, the vibrations sending her over the edge. Cillian didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap up every drop of her juices, prolonging her pleasure until she was a trembling, gasping mess.

Her cries of ecstasy were music to his ears, the sight of her in the throes of pleasure pushing him over the edge. He groaned loudly, his own release spilling over his hand as he continued to stroke himself through the aftershocks. Cillian's body trembled with the force of his orgasm, his mouth never leaving her, savoring the final moments of their shared bliss. As the waves of pleasure subsided, he finally pulled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He moved up to lie beside her, their bodies slick with sweat and arousal.

Cillian looked at her while panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He had already come four times by this point, each release more intense than the last. God, she knew exactly how to touch him, how to unravel him in ways he never thought possible. But now, it was his turn. His turn to make her the moaning mess, to make her forget everything but the pleasure he could give.

"Yet here you are, a moanin’ mess," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "You know how to make me crumble, but only temporarily. However, I can fuck you 'til you forget you know your name, love."

His Irish accent, thick with arousal, sent a shiver down her spine. The promise in his words was clear, and she felt a surge of anticipation wash over her. Cillian leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that left her breathless. With a swift, practiced motion, he flipped her onto her back, positioning himself above her. The look in his eyes was one of pure dominance, a primal hunger that made her heart race. He paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build, before sliding his hand down to her messy and sticky cunt. She was already a mess from his feast a minute ago but her body was eager for more.

Cillian's fingers teased her clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made her hips buck. He watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered shut, her mouth falling open in a silent moan. "You like that, don’t you?" he whispered, his voice a husky murmur in her ear.

His fingers brushed lightly against her folds, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. He marveled at the slickness of her arousal, his own desire growing with each passing moment. His fingers knowing exactly where to go to drive her wild with need. He circled her clit with feather-light touches, teasing her with the promise of pleasure to come. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more contact, more friction. He increased the pressure of his touch as he began to stroke her clit in earnest. His movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke sending a jolt of electricity through her body. He could feel her muscles tensing beneath his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

But Cillian wasn't satisfied with just teasing her clit. He wanted to explore every inch of her, to drive her to the brink of ecstasy and beyond. With practiced skill, he slid one finger inside her, feeling her walls clench around him as he began to move. He set a relentless pace, his finger plunging in and out of her with a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. Her moans filled the air, a symphony of pleasure that drove him wild with desire. He added a second finger, stretching her to accommodate his girth, and she cried out in ecstasy as he filled her completely. His thumb continued to stroke her clit, adding an extra layer of sensation that pushed her ever closer to the edge.

Cillian could feel her climax building, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he wasn't about to let her off that easily. With a wicked grin, he curled his fingers inside her, hitting that sweet spot that sent her careening over the edge. She came with a scream, her body convulsing with the force of her release. Cillian didn't let up, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of her until she was a trembling, quivering mess. Only then did he withdraw his hand, his own arousal burning hot and fierce. Cillian watched her, a satisfied smirk on his lips, as he slowly withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, tasting her essence.

But he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. He positioned himself between her legs, his cock hard and throbbing with need. He guided himself to her entrance, pausing for a moment to look into her eyes. "Ready for more?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Her answer was a breathless yes, and with that, he thrust into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her hands clutching at the sheets as he began to move, each thrust deep and deliberate. The pace was slow at first, teasing, but he quickly picked up speed, driving into her with a force that made her cry out. Cillian's hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer with each thrust. He could feel her tightening around him, her second orgasm building rapidly. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss as he drove her higher and higher.

When she finally came, it was with a scream that echoed through the room, her body shaking with the force of her climax. Cillian followed soon after, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He groaned her name, his body tensing as he spilled into her, the pleasure overwhelming him. They collapsed together, panting and spent, their bodies tangled in the aftermath of their passion. He pressed soft kisses to her forehead, her temples, her cheeks, savoring the intimacy of the moment. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her how much he loved her, how she was his everything. She melted into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms.

He ran his fingers gently through her hair, his touch tender and loving. "You were amazing," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I love you so much."

She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with love and contentment. "I love you too," she replied, her voice soft and filled with warmth. "That was... incredible."

Cillian leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. He wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped in her arms, lost in the moment. But he knew that they couldn't stay like this forever. Reluctantly, he began to move, untangling their bodies and sitting up. He reached for the blanket, pulling it over their bodies to ward off the chill that had settled over them. He then turned his attention to her, his gaze soft and affectionate.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. "No, I'm fine," she reassured him. "You were perfect."

Cillian's relief was palpable, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his lips lingering against hers. They stayed like that for a long moment, lost in each other's embrace, before finally settling back against the pillows, their bodies still entwined. As they lay there, Cillian ran his fingers gently over her skin, tracing patterns along her arm and across her back. She sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the sensation of his touch.

"I could stay like this forever," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian smiled, his heart swelling with love for this woman who meant everything to him. "Me too," he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "Me too."

Author’s Notes:

I got this idea from a lovely character AI user, which is shurilix. Yes it’s just main message you get from a character that sparked the idea of a series by itself. But it’s really all their idea. I don’t think they have a tumblr but I still wanted to mention it. Also I originally wasn’t going to do smut for this part but fuck it why not.

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: strangergraphics-archive

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Back to the Self Aware! BSD AU x Black Butler Crossover

________

Same voice actors time again.

While Ace didn't get into the Real World (I have an ask about him, that ask is in a process of being answered, and I am planning to write about his situation in the future [Somewhere after Fyodor's entry]), let's imagine, that he also got into the real world with the rest of the cast.

Ace didn't like GL. Mostly because GL didn't have anything good to say about Ace. Add Karma in top of it. He just keeps everything to himself, staying away from GL and BSD Cast.

So, after Black Butler get into the real world. And Reader are happy to see almost everyone from them. And form mutual respect with Sebastian...

_____

Reader: Thank you, Sebastian, for helping with the dinner.

Sebastian: My pleasure, [Y/N].

Reader: You know, despite being a demon, you are a savior for this place. Helping to feed everyone and keeping the mansion tidy.

Sebastian: quiet chuckle

Reader: grinning Still can't believe it. Someone, I thought wasn't real, is in my house. And I can talk to them, and their voices are voices I get used to. No need to pay for VA's lines.

Ace: barging in Why you little?! This demon and I have the same voices! Why you have never complimented my voice? Am I not enough for you? What he has, that I don't have?

Reader: look between Ace and Sebastian Do you need the short list or the long?

_________

If we count Season 2 characters

Alois felt jealous, because every demon (Sebastian, Claude, Hannah and Triplets) treat you with genuine respect. He was afraid, that you will steal Claude from him. You assured him, that you already have your own demon (*cough* Fyodor *cough*) and don't need any more demons.

__________

William T Spears and Kunikida quickly became friends. Unfortunately for them, Dazai and Grell also became friends.

_______

(Slightly) non-related idea. I have a feeling, that Grell will love Edna Mode from The Incredibles.

______

Undertaker made a new coffin for Bram. Many coffins. Because Bram was "that one client", who will always find something to complain about. Then Undertaker snapped.

*during dinner one day*

Undertaker: to Bram Just how big of a coffin you need? I have been redoing it for the fifth time already.

Bram: Big enough for two people to fit. I want our weekly cuddle time with My Little Bat, My Dear [Y/N] to be as comfortable as possible. Especially, when others cuddle with [Y/N] in beds during their cuddle time.

*Black Butler Cast froze. Lizzie dropped the teacup. You are covering your face with both hands. You felt like you will burn in a flame of embarrassment.*

/Next lesson of "How to live in this world and this age" for BB Cast was focused on explaining, what "polyamorous relationship is"./

[sunboki]

— START TO FINISH a Han Jisung fiction

🧸 : Han Jisung x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, forced friendship, friends to lovers, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT. 6.2k ☆ 31 minute read

WARNINGS. lots of cursing, underage drinking(reader & han are 18, legal drinking age in korea is 19), making up, reader punches someone

AUG'S NOTES. i know i know, after so long the fic is finally here!(thank goodness) and i just remembered how @geneziesm was excited for this back in.. february?? so apologies for the wait sweetness, hope you don’t mind that i changed our love interest from changbin to jisung :’) btw, the cabin they’re staying in looks like this

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. From start to finish. That’s how you ended things with Han Jisung, starting with your fist balled up and ending with a slam right to his cheek. Or so you hoped. “I mean, they’re just kids, what could they do?” Was what both of your parents said as they spoke over the phone without you knowing. Without either of you knowing you learned later on, luggage in hand as you stared at the dangling road sign beside the cabin’s entrance. Gangwon Cabin, the place you’d be occupying with Han Jisung, your mortal enemy, for two months. It could be worse.. right? No. This was the worst it could be.

or alternatively :

Two months ago you were certain you’d hate Han Jisung forever, but what about now?

You’re. Fucking. Kidding me.

"You take one step into this room and I cut off every limb attached to your body, understood?" Is what you hissed at the boy who looked too smug standing in front of you.

"Awe, aren’t you just the sweetest?"

"Better yet, I could cut off your tongue."

"The more the merrier." He stuck out his tongue connivingly, earning a hard slam of the door right in the face.

You don’t care if you have to slam that door a billion more times to escape from him, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Your only priority for these two months? Avoid Han Jisung at all costs.

Han Jisung is the boy that ate sand as a kid. You’re sure of it.

You’ve convinced yourself he somehow ate enough sand to where it creeped up into his brain and made him into a complete asshole for the rest of his life. A shame, really.

You didn’t know if that was true or not —though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was— but the theory served as a decent explanation of why he acted like an absolute piece of shit… For the most part.

Honestly, the hatred was sort of mutual. If you define mutual as in unspoken glares across the classroom and his malice-filled smile glittering right back at you, then yeah, mutual.

Starting from the moment you stepped into Mr. Jeong’s class and took your seat beside him, a blazing electric bolt strung itself between you two. And despite being unsure why, the bolt grew stronger without sign of stopping, alighting hatred and dislike.

Was it fair carrying the burning grudge? Not at all, but if Han Jisung kept egging you on like he always did, it would stay that way.

Except what was once anger noticed by only you quickly escalated into heated, gas-lit arguments the entire school heard—because Han Jisung found the perfect timing every time. Heavy on the sarcasm.

Best example? You had utterly bombed your chemistry midterm, one you tirelessly studied for as well when a shadow loomed over your desk belonging to none other than the Devil’s offspring himself (if you guessed anyone other than Han Jisung, you’re dead wrong).

"I wouldn’t recommend crying in class, but that grade is pretty shitty so if you need a shoulder, I've gotcha sweetheart." He cockily pats his shoulder while sending you a wink, and you couldn’t believe someone would so blatantly ask for a broken nose, yet here you are.

Trust that your list of reasons to plan a burial for the seat-mate goes on as long as you breathe.

And apparently, whatever chemical reaction you’d fucked up during the exam turned out to be highly explosive on a Friday afternoon, unfortunately without the addition of Han’s broken nose. You were close though.

That day he picked. Picked and picked and picked enough that your fist found itself smashed against his jaw, the boy’s hand immediately coming up to shield the wound. Instantaneously, the classroom became noiseless apart from the sound of blood pumping in your ears and Jisung’s heavy breathing.

"Han Jisung, Ln Yn, go to the office. Now!" Mr. Jeong called from the doorway, noticeably out of breath from his brambled hair and glasses askew upon his nose.

The customary lecture about how you should "never resort to violence" was nothing new for the both of you, Counselor Kim’s furious tapping of her foot reflecting the glare she burned your way. From the other side of the room Han sat on the patient-bed, a bandage sized to his cheek covering where you’d unapologetically swung all your frustration. You had zero remorse and would continue to have zero remorse. Forever.

"For the love of god what are you two standing there for?! Apologize. This. Instant!" And with the final crack in her flaming attitude she stomped out the door, fanatically shaking her head with dismay.

Ravaging every advantage, you sauntered towards the boy, releasing a heavy sigh just to announce your 'sincerity' first and foremost. Now was prime time to sugar him up, and you’d be sure not to take it for granted.

Stepping forward, you lift your head to deliver a faux smile.

"I’m so sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you leading up to this, especially after punching you in a spot that won’t heal for a long time because you never deserved that and most definitely did nothing wrong." Delighted to finally be pushing his buttons just as he did yours, you plaster the most guilty expression you can manage, voice dripping with lies.

Jisung breathes a rather bored sigh.

"Nice try."

Geesh, he’s exasperating. Take a hit for once, why don’t you.

"You want me to pray for your forgiveness or what?" Managing to omit the derogatory nickname attached to your sentence, you spare a hasty glance at Ms. Choi, the nurse who every other male at the school had a crush on. She types into her laptop at an alarming pace—fortunately either ignoring or oblivious to your brewing cat-fight.

The boredom appears to leave him instantly for a reason you couldn’t guess. Regardless, you knew it meant bad news.

Exasperating. He is unbearably exasperating.

"'Didn’t think you were that in love with me, but no. I want you to give me a kiss," Using the hand he’d previously ran through his hair, he pointed to his cheek. "Right here."

Is no one else hearing this? He’s not serious .. right? And why are your hands sweaty?

"Bullshit."

Aha, there’s the usual Oxford graduate vocabulary. Let’s hope Ms. Choi didn’t hear anything.

"Sadly. Worth a try though." Jisung deflates, swinging his legs around aimlessly. He’s daring from a point you can’t figure out. His inability to piss you off is easy to discover, but there’s something else there—a word your finger keeps skipping over.

Then suddenly, in the midst of observing your lost-in-thought expression, he piques with realization. By the time you notice, all your earlier remorse voluntarily throws itself out the window. Not that there was any remorse anyway. Definitely.

"Wait- don’t tell me you’re actually going to apologize, hold on I need to record this—"

"SHUT UP! I’m leaving, have a good evening Ms. Choi." The poor woman jumped out of her skin, shakily bowing farewell as you stormed from the infirmary, seething rage billowing out both ears.

Your walk home lasted much longer than usual, probably because you didn’t even want to step foot on the property; wanted to savor every moment of fresh air before seeing your parents in their fury glittering glory.

Unbeknownst to you, they’d already gotten the call—four hours ago, to be exact. Though you didn’t realize that’s how long you’d been procrastinating, and neither did Han Jisung, who was doing the same thing.

Except while you walked around killing time, he occupied a swing at the old neighborhood playground, humming a tune to himself.

So as you turned the corner, the last person you expected to be there was there, seeming quite aloof as he gazed off into the distance.

"What’re you doing?"

You swore he leaped a solid foot into the air, hand frantically clutched to his chest as if you were the doctor telling him he wasn’t allowed to jack off anymore.

"Jesus! You scared me. I should ask you the same thing," Han grumbled, lips pulled into a taut pout.

This momentary peacefulness, or whatever isn’t hostility occupying the space between you is gross considering you’d socked him mere hours earlier, still able to make out the light bruising scattered along his jaw.

You kick off some of the mulch lingering atop your shoelaces. "Procrastinating going home, you?"

Laughing bitterly, Han settles back into the swing. "I guess that’s something we can agree on," He says, causing you to sort of falter.

Sadness lingers in his tone and you can’t decipher it, not when your average Han Jisung would be rearing to tease you. Instead, he remains quiet enough that when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you flinch.

"I’ve gotta go. This is the eighteenth time she’s called, I wish I was joking." You breathe through your nose, staring at your mom’s number flickering atop the screen.

Why you even dismissed yourself you don’t know. It was Han Jisung, why did you bother? You should’ve acted spiteful and left him at that. But you couldn’t. Not when he seemed so.. miserable. You staved down the gnawing guilt.

"What color do you want to wear in your casket, I’ll be sure to tell your parents."

Well there goes any chance of being nice.

"I hate you," You automatically snarl, spewing those words as if they had no weight anymore.

Looks like everything is back to normal, for now.

Currently standing at the doorstep, you thought back to all the excuses you’d used in the past and which one seemed suitable this time around. Which one would, hopefully, secure your life for another day.

There’s the truly heroic "he was insulting you guys! Saying you didn’t raise me right!" that would earn a bit of sympathy, or maybe you could even go bigger and say he was threatening to rob you and— the door opened. Shit.

"Come in! Tell me about your day at school." Your mother, strangely enough, smiled.

Okay. What the fuck is going on. Where’s the berating and disowning threat, seriously.

"Aren’t you mad?" You skittishly ask, only receiving a swift jerk of her head signaling for you to come in.

Hence, you tentatively, like an ax would strike you at any moment, obediently tip-toe into the living room, glancing around cautiously.

She finds her spot on the couch beside your dad and you nonchalantly shift a good distance from the two, just to be safe.

Who knows, perhaps they’d planned collaborative man-slaughter.

"Oh no, we’re livid, but we talked about it and have a fantastic idea that we’re sure will help!" Help what, you’re not sure. All you know is that this cannot possibly end well. 

Your ungodly hour wake up was the first unfortunate event, basically being shoved into the car to who knows where and before you knew it, the sunlight illuminating the road in front of you became shrouded with shadows of tall alpines looming overhead. They spared no hint as to what their "fantastic idea" was yesterday, so the jury ruling your case as a third-degree murder was only something you could wonder from the backseat. Something you could wonder for a long, long time.

Thankfully, decades later, the vehicle eventually came to a halt and your parents wasted no time shoving you just as easily as they did into the car, outside of the car. Adjusting to the brightness, you find yourself facing a building only definable as a cabin from the wooden exterior and forest surroundings.

A creative collaborative homicide, definitely.

"We’re here~" Your mom calls from the passenger seat, helping unload stuffed suitcases from the trunk.

Suitcases. Lovely.

Alright, staying here for a while doesn’t sound too bad aside from the feeding yourself part. Yogiyo Food Delivery could find their way here, surely. You’d just have to give a generous tip, that’s all.

Clapping her hands together a little too excitedly, the woman pats your shoulder, gesturing to the abundant amount of luggage your dad heaved to the entrance, or wherever the rickety door leads.

Hold on, whose car is that parked beside yours?

Almost like she read your mind, her brows lift cartoonishly as you follow the click of a car door opening in unison.

"Oh! Right! Now we wanted to make sure this would be beneficial for both of you, so we invited Han’s parents to have him stay with you for these two months!"

Haha.

You’re dreaming. This is all a dream. Because Han Jisung did not just get out of that Kia, and she did not just say two months.

Automatically, your hands fly into the air, willing to battle your way out of this one if that’s what it takes.

"You’re leaving me here? Are you serious-what’re you-Hey! Don’t drive away!" Before you can open your mouth the two cars back out of the dirt road without so much as a goodbye to the children they’d utterly abandoned, might you add the children that wanted nothing more than to bury each other a day ago.

And so, the two months of summer hell began.

..Albeit, out of all your troubles, the scenery wasn’t too hellish opposed to the internal screaming echoing around your skull.

Instead, serene, comfortable sound consumed the wilderness surrounding the cabin, filling your ears with the hum of evening birdsong and water trickling from the river below. At least that part was tolerable.

You perch on the edge of the railing and listen, trying to distract yourself from your mind for a moment—allowing you to bask in a billion thoughts you wished to drown out.

Han had already gone inside without even a hello (not that you expected one), seeming to feel the same amount of hopelessness as you did after hearing your fate. Peaceful, until the creaking patio door opening rips every inch of calmness right out of your grasp.

"The view is nice, isn’t it."

Stop it. Stop talking like we’re friends. It’s not normal. We are not normal.

The sensible part of your mind tells you this is how people that don’t go for the throat talk, but you can’t convince yourself to communicate like that. Not with your history, not now.

"Nice without you interrupting me." Your grip tightened on the fence supporting you, refusing to even spare him a glance in fear of watching disappointment flood his frontal. You’d stab a stake through your chest before succumbing to him, before sympathizing his feelings.

"I’m going inside," you mouth, quickly slipping past him through the half-open door without another word.

Unforgiving. You are both very unforgiving. Or maybe it’s you, unable to forget about your grievances, unable to let go. For a second—closing the door behind you—you fear you’ll never be able to let go.

Radio silence inhabits the aged home, and you both hurry off to separate sides to digest everything’s awfulness in your own, unique ways. Han resorts to strumming the acoustic guitar he’d stuffed in his bag before leaving Seoul, and you, well, you cope, furiously pacing the room until exhaustion overtakes your limbs and you pitifully flop onto the floor.

The suitcases will have to rot outside tonight because leaving this spot, no less passing by the living area, meant Han Jisung exposure, the last thing your sour mood needed. You rationalize—you really do—but fleeting thoughts and whatever keeps itching your leg steal your chance of thinking positively.

Wait.

Alternatively, during what he assumes to be your sulking-about-how-life-isn’t-fair session, Han’s daily mug of coffee (the one he’d missed out on due to being forced up at the asscrack of dawn) was cut short thanks to a shrill scream. He hurriedly placed his beverage on the counter, racing to where you stood glued to the wall of the hallway, finger shakily pointing to a bug crawling along the floor.

Mischievously, Han crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the chaos that could ensue with a simple request. This was already off to a great start.

Why not get his fair share? Toying with you was way too fun after all.

"Y’know, there’s a great way to deal with this." He takes his last swig of caffeine while you basically crawl into your skin, impossibly backing up further from the skittering insect.

"And what would that be?"

Rookie mistake. He can tell you’re aware of exactly what he’s going to say next, already two steps behind him before you realize you can do anything about it. What to choose, what to choose.

Then, Ding! A marvelous idea strikes.

"I’ve always imagined the nickname Sungie would sound cute coming from you," he sings, dreadful anticipation vividly apparent. He’s having a blast.

Wrinkling your nose, your glare radiates nothing but red-hot animosity, patience walking a thin wire. Han loves every bit of it.

"What the hell are you talking abou—"

"You might wanna say it, that beetle is getting closer," He says, voice laced with devilish intent.

Unfortunately for you, life and death were the only ways to get through this. Naturally, you leaned closer to choosing death for the sake of your reputation, but life had to be an asshole and shatter your ego into a billion tiny pieces last minute.

"FUCK- Sungie- kill it now!" You shout, releasing a very frustrated scream you’re certain could’ve topped Regina George’s.

Beneficial? She called this beneficial?

"I knew it’d be cute,” He snickered, instantly covering the god-forbidden demon with his empty cup and grinning up at you with crescent moon eyes as if he hadn’t brutally manipulated your terror seconds before.

You hate him. Hate him hate him hate him.

God. You wanted to cry.

. ..

Jisung would’ve loved to see your reaction if he caused a ruckus so early, but he was being nice this morning, carefully traveling around the kitchen island to fill his thermos with water when he dropped the metal bottle and the loudest, most blaring screech echoed around the entire house.

Truthfully, it was an accident. Truthfully.

You wouldn’t believe him.

Not even a minute later, low and behold, the adorable grumpiness identified as you peeked out from a blanket burrito, noticeably seething from your bedroom door.

"It’s five in the morning you lunatic, what is so important that you’re leaving at five in the morning," you grumble, instinctively pulling your blanket tighter when he approached.

"You really want me to stay with you that badly, honey? All you had to do was ask~" You tiredly push away his kissy face leering close, clad in pajamas and not quite awake enough to put up with him.

He twirls the keys, stopping to dramatically blow you a kiss in the process.

"'M going on a run, don’t miss me too much,” Jisung waved, and with the click of the door closing behind him, he’s gone to who knows where.

His cockiness makes you roll your eyes as you begin whipping up some form of breakfast to satiate your stomachs complaints, knowing your chances of going back to bed were slim to nothing due to being woken up so mercilessly.

If he dropped what sounded to be a iron pipe to wake you up, thinking about what his next "alarm clock" would be gives you goosebumps. Yep. No going back to sleep for you.

Except the minute hand ticks by, and what used to be a short run turns into an uneasy feeling by the time the third hour rolls around.

Three hours and twenty minutes.. Three hours and thirty minutes.. Three hours and forty minutes..

Screw it, you’ll go looking for him.

"Jisung? Jisung, where are you!" Your shouting has to have echoed around the entirety of Gangwon at this point, stopping to catch your breath on the side of the never ending dirt pathway. Miles and miles you scour, gradually reaching a bench covered by a willow tree where you slump down, enjoying the swift moment of rest.

What you hadn’t expected enjoying your much needed break was to find the exact boy you were searching for, lying fast asleep in the shade.

Covering your mouth to mute your gasp, a string of mumbled curses fall off your tongue as you get up from your spot and hesitantly approach the sleeping beauty.

Oh so slowly you sit down in the grass, paying attention not to make too much noise from the crunchy leaves.

"It’s not fair that you’re pretty even when napping," You mutter, infatuated by his mesmerizing looks that seem to glow in the minimal light emerald leaves reflect.

That is, before his eyelashes dust and you noisily rush to your feet, flushing pink at an alarming pace. The prince-like beings' cheeks puff, blinking rapidly to clear the sleepy haze.

"Huh? Y/n, when did you get here? You’re red; are you okay—"

"Yeah. C’mon." You speed-walked ahead despite Jisung calling out for you to slow down, terrified he’d seen you or, worse, heard the things you’d said.

He stalls to pick up something and you experimentally glance back, noting a green color visible through the plastic bag he held. What’s inside is only recognizable by the clinking of glass colliding together.

"Did.. did you- is that…" Words pour without making sense, squinting accusingly at the bit of a label you can see reading "Chum Churum Soju."

Your bewilderment keeps you planted to the ground, scrolling through your mental list of possibilities explaining why it couldn’t be alcohol. And suddenly you genuinely question if Han’s delinquency appeared outside of school as well.

Surely, because the smirk painting his features when he caught sight of your shocked expression left no room to wonder.

"Won't it be fun?" He shakes the bag. "We’re irresponsible highschoolers anyways, and the grandma working there said it has the best flavor this time of year."

So that’s how he managed to get by without an ID. Of course.

Problem? One, you’re underage. Two, who knows if someone found out. Three, you had no goddamn clue what you were like drunk, and the last thing you wanted to happen was a detrimental mistake under the influence with Jisung. Everything about this foreshadowed disaster, how he couldn’t figure that part out was beyond you.

Or maybe he wanted disaster to strike, maybe it was all a part of his plan, the cherry on top to ruin your life permanently.

Yeah, you’re not letting even a drop enter your system.

"Aigoo— don’t cry," Han whines, obviously a bit tipsy, though compared to you who’s almost completely wasted (rocking back and forth while spilling nonsense to nobody in particular), he’s basically sober.

It was an accident, you swear. You couldn’t help it, he called you a coward and dared you to a drinking contest that put your precious pride on the line—leading into this shithole of a situation in the first place. Backing down meant ultimate defeat, and knowing you had at least three more weeks stuck here narrowed down the last option available.

"'M not crying asshat.." You sob, hand feebly hitting the table in a pitiful show of aggression. Your brain is fuzzy and everything feels so weird and dizzying. Then you feel it.

Oh no. Word vomit. You can’t stop it.

"I just don’t think it’s fair, Jisung," You blurt, Han blinking tiredly upon hearing his name. "You have such a pretty face for such an awful person."

You’re babbling now, blurily viewing multiple emotions unfold prior to opening his mouth. You guess in some way he heard what you said below the willow tree, even as a drunk confession.

"You.. You think I have a pretty face?" Though seconds after he finishes speaking you lean across the table to press your index against his lips, the boy’s eyes growing to the size of saucers.

"Shut uppp, I don’t wanna hear your voice, ever." Interrupting the question, you wobble to your feet, grip fumbling on the chilled door knob before blindly plowing into the room and collapsing on your mattress.

Meanwhile, Jisung attempts to stop you. Keyword: attempts. He does, almost there, and then the carpet trips him somehow (his own way of pretending he didn’t slip over nothing) and he’s kissing the floor, exhaustion immediately numbing his entire alcohol-ridden body till he succumbs to oh so welcoming sleep.

Gasping awake, a rampaging headache greets his skull, unevenly carrying himself to grab a barely there cup of water that’ll hopefully ease some tension. He assumes this must be a hangover, and man, it’s more of a pain than he thought.

The Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon before ending up here, a place that was certainly not home. Well, the Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon along with waking up on the floor, being stuck in this place with you, and an entire collection of things he couldn't name off the top of his head.

Being completely honest, he’s amazed he hadn’t slept the rest of the day and night after earlier, filled with crude small talk and stolen alcohol sipped from styrofoam cups. And you calling him pretty, that too.

Said styrofoam cups scatter in disarray all over the floor, evidence of how drunk you’d both got that painted quite an impressively messy picture.

There’s not much to see staring through the fogged window; Gangwon’s relentless humidity leading to a nearly impossible view of the lake outside. Though he doesn’t mind. In fact, knowing that no one can find him here, you and him, isn’t too bad. No teachers looming over him, nor were his parents reprimanding him for grades slightly below perfect.

Although in the midst of his headspace, a floorboard creaks exceptionally loud and you stand, rocking back and forth on your heels and gazing at him through half-lidded eyes he can’t quite read. What he distinctly spotted, however, was the smile casually gracing your lips. A dreamy, loopy smile that told him something wasn’t exactly normal.

"Sungie.."

Han cranes to hear what you say, bewildered by the nickname you swore to never utter. Were you still drunk? You had to be, or you wouldn’t have approached him with open arms like that to bury your head into his chest where he feared you’d hear his hammering heartbeat—frozen stiff as a board with your arms wrapped around him.

"Are.. are you still drunk?" Han timidly asks and you absentmindedly groan before your movement stops, the boy doing a double take in case you managed to pass out buried in his clothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he pulled you off of him, body curled in disgust due to the saliva staining his t-shirt where your face had been.

Yep. You had fully passed out while hugging him.

"Wow, how much did you have to drink again?" Laughing to himself, he struggles guiding you to the couch to sit down without stumbling over each other.

Propping a pillow behind your head, the boy hesitates, feeling a sort of déjà vu he can’t make sense of. Though quickly enough, he shakes off the phenomenon and begins raising up, but a softness threading through his fingers stops him in his tracks for a second time, and he has to blink multiple times to register what was happening.

Although appearing passed out still, your hand found its way to reach for his, holding onto his pinky so lightly, so carefully. The boy's heart pounded, collecting all of his self control to refrain from making decisions he'd regret.

"Stop. We can’t." Sentence trembling on his tongue, he steadily pulled away, nearly wincing when you shifted slightly.

You were only dreaming, you never would have done this if you were awake, he reminded himself, glancing back to where you lie once more as if you’d magically spring up and announce your undying love for him. Did he want that to happen? No, he’s just joking, just a joke. Right.

It hurts, he can’t name why.

He prays you don’t remember.

"Please tell me why it’s so freaking cold in the middle of July," You mumble to nobody, spotting your cell mate’s cabin mate’s backside crouched over the fire pit. What he busied himself doing you couldn't guess, unpredictably unpredictable.

Curiously, you shuffle to the window, observing the charcoal he added before flicking the lighter and setting the lumber ablaze, flames licking at the dark sky above. Starting at age ten you learned curiosity killed the cat, but never did you think it killed humans as well. That was, prior to Jisung noticing you watching him. Astonishingly, however, he motioned for you to come out, refraining from the average jerk behavior on this occasion.

Unpredictably unpredictable, like you said.

"Have you given up yet? Hating me, I mean." Appearing beside the lawn chair you had cozied into, he tossed a few additional branches into the brewing flames, dropping down to warm his hands. Apparently, you don’t remember. Only Jisung would realize that.

"You talk about it like it’s a choice." Stuffing your hands inside your coat pockets, you avoid him per routine. Confidence comes easier that way, especially with him—someone you’re weak for.

You’d never admit that.

"It’s not?"

Your tongue pokes at the flesh of your cheek, ticked.

"You don’t seem to understand the hell I go through every day I come to school. Han Jisung, you give me every reason to hate you," You state coldly, fists clenching and unclenching where he can’t see.

This argument is fearful. You both glare at anything but each other, turning away from mere face-to-face contact in fear you’d apologize. Jisung is always first to look, first to try understanding.

Those times are never noticed by you, someone who doesn’t give in.

"But we're not in school anymore; we’re free in a cabin in the middle of Gangwon. So could you at least pretend to not hate me?" He looks. Looks at each minuscule twitch of your mouth, the soft cupid's bow perfectly carving your lips. Han scolds himself. He gets lost in you sometimes, a habit. Times that he’s glad you avoid him, unlike now, desperately needing you to see.

"Pretend? Did you say pretend? You’re fucking insane thinking I can just pretend nothing has happened. You think I can walk away from all this like it’s nothing, because I'm nice and sweet and do anything for anybody? You’re heartless, Jisung."

The boy hastily clutched onto the sleeve of your puffer jacket as you got up, fanning flames revealing your broken expression.

You shakily inhale, tears unconsciously slipping down your cheeks. This is the last thing you wanted, to end up crying in front of him. But here you are, walls crumbling down.

"Stop trying to make us right when we’ll lead to a bad ending."

You tremble and his grip loosens automatically, lingering there.

"Look at me."

"Let me go."

"Look at me, please."

You foolishly look like he did. Look and note how deep the pools of dusky caramel dancing in his eyes are. Look and pinpoint the mole residing on the right side of his face, effortlessly close to pretty pink lips. Look and admire the sweet curve of his eyes complimented by the shape of his brows, furrowed with sadness that match the tone you’d heard that day you found him on the swing.

You curse your hiccuping, delving into the softness of his palm while his thumb delicately swipes your tears. He’s warm. Han Jisung, though you never thought you’d say it, is warm to the touch.

"We’re not leading to a bad ending, Y/n. You want a bad ending because of what I’ve done, so you can feel like your anger is justified. This is my fault, and I’ll take responsibility, so give me a chance to fix it and quit burdening yourself because of my mistakes, okay?" He tips his head, tenderly caressing the delicate tear-stained skin beneath your lower lashes.

Today, tonight, everything you ever believed about Han Jisung was proven wrong.

His perception and his kindness, which you didn’t even know existed, forged through the surface and tore your heart in halves. He’d revealed himself to you and in actuality, he always had; you just closed your eyes.

But today, tonight, he didn’t let you close them; he held them open to see him, see his apology, see his acceptance—and it gave you no choice but to comply, to nod your head and trust him, something you’d never done before.

You take a seat again, yet the stifling company isn't stifling anymore, and a sensation akin to relief floods the brisk air surrounding Gangwon cabin. He brings you tissues and you say thank you, it’s new. He smiles and you smile back, it’s new as well.

You’ve never liked things you were unfamiliar with, but this is okay.

For once, being around Han Jisung feels okay.

"..Did it hurt?"

He blinked, fixating you with a confused stare.

"When I punched you, did it hurt?"

Slowly, his mouth stretched into a grin, chuckling. That’s new too, you think you like it the most so far.

"Like a bitch."

. ..

You’d say your relationship evened out, not finding an incessant need to respond with something even nastier. It was weird at first, coexisting and all. Weird being so friendly, despite the annoying banter paying occasional visits.

Better, better this way.

The moon rose up high in the sky only to settle, and you’d periodically climb to the top of the house in a way Jisung had taught you, hand placed on your back reassuringly as you climbed the cob-web infested windowsill up to the roof. You’d also say that gesture didn’t affect you. You lied.

Nonetheless, the rooftop "dates" helped you appreciate how bright and brilliant the twinkling balls of fire were after being pulled out here where artificial light is infinitely scarce compared to Seoul’s amusement park of electricity.

"That," Jisung points, finger drawing an imaginary line connecting specific stars lighting up the sky. "Is the constellation Cygnus, it’s Greek for swan. When I studied in Malaysia there was a great hill to stargaze, that’s where I learned about them."

You nod, savoring the otherworldly view paired with his voice.

Comfort. He’s comfortable telling you about himself. Your heart feels happy.

"I always thought Lyra and Cygnus would make a good couple," he says, beats of a silence passing before you burst into a fit of giggles, the boy raising up to lean on his elbow appearing quite offended.

A constellation? He thinks constellations would make good couples?

Han Jisung is full of surprises.

"Yah I’m serious! They’d be perfect together! It’d be romantic and sweet and— you’re mean." He whined playfully, suppressing his own laughter noticing how hard you were trying not to laugh.

Quietness, silence if you must, replaces the once child-like conversation. Not the I’m-counting-the-seconds-to-your-funeral type silence that occurred daily prior to your campfire crying/make-up session, but a calm silence.

"Could you imagine what the kids back home would say?" He breathes his words airily whilst admiring your eyes staring up at the sky—twinkling. To him, those eyes hold the galaxy in them. Eyes that weren’t introduced to him until recently, on a night he’s certain he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

"We’re not home, we’re free, like you said." You don’t glance at him and ironically, he can’t stop gazing at you. You move and he watches, enraptured by this. Whatever this may be.

Ah, he’s staring again. Lost in you again.

Abruptly, your dramatic sputtering successfully pulled his head out of the clouds, splatters of water began to dapple your once dry bodies. But as you prepare to ease down and go inside, he lightly grabs your wrist with a sweet look, convincing you, if only for a few minutes, to stay.

"You’re crazy, Jisung." You laugh, expression breaking into the most breathtaking beam Han had ever seen. If someone were to take a picture of Jisung right now, he’s certain his irises would be heart-shaped. And in that moment he swore he’d never fallen in love harder before. Falling in love he’d write about on pages of a journal, photograph with his polaroid back home. Falling in love soaked with rain on the roof of a cabin, stargazing without clocks to tell you what time it is.

You’re drenched, he’s soaked. He wants to kiss you, you want to kiss him. Then you remember you’re still learning this entire "normal people" concept and he’s supposed to tread carefully when it comes to you, but everything fits so well and your lips sort of connect and you can’t let go.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

Your hands in his hair, his cupping your face, head tilted to gain easier access while leaning against his side. Endlessly close.

Han is like spring, like daffodils blooming their hidden colors deep in a field. You might get frustrated searching, but once you find and pluck the flower from long stalks of grass, its petals will shine eternally.

Rain is pouring, pelting his already messy overalls and leaving strands of ash blond stuck to his forehead, lips pulled so high up he can’t think straight.

He smiles and you do too and things feel right, righter than they had in a long time.

Young kids sure act stupid when you leave them alone for too long.

He wouldn’t take it back for the world.

.. .

"Ready to go?" Referring to the doorway, he waited for you by the door, brown hues carrying emotion you chose not to acknowledge.

"Yeah, um, get home safe and text me sometime, whenever you’re not busy, I mean." He nods a response, stupidly happy face earning your harmless scowl in the process of helping push your luggage through the door.

Different. Remarkably different from how things were before. Two months ago you would’ve hated this, hated anything to do with him.

Different, it was different now. Better, better this way, like during stargazing.

He turned left and you turned right, opposite directions towards where your parents stood, towards the cars that would travel far from here. You’d drive, drive and drive back to Seoul carrying new feelings and new conversation, new love.

And from a peculiar standpoint, Gangwon Cabin was your start to finish with Han Jisung. Starting with a punch to the face and ending in a way you could never have imagined that one summer in high school.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @ren0325 @lix-ables @babrieeee @azurez @soobnny @weird-bookworm @q1sng @telesvng @ren0325 @hello-stranger24

[supernovafics]

you and steve hate each other but you decide to help him when he gets sick

wc: 1k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was the sound of two consecutive sneezes followed by a cough that immediately caught your attention when you walked into family video.

“ew, you’re sick,” you said to steve as you adjusted your vest and fixed the nametag which said “robin” instead of your name because you were covering for her while she was out of town for a month.

“i’m fine.”

you simply looked at him. “oh yes, because sneezing and coughing are the signs of someone in perfect health.”

“it’s just really dusty in here,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. “you probably should’ve cleaned better last night.”

you rolled your eyes at that and almost flipped him off but refrained from doing so last second. there was something about steve that always seemed to annoy you, and you knew that the feeling was fully mutual. it was way too easy to butt heads over nothing or start an argument over the littlest of things. hence why you were barely a minute into your six hour shift and the two of you were already ready to murder each other.

in a way it was funny, though— you two didn’t like each other but somehow you shared a common best friend. a best friend who would do anything to try and make you two become friends. however, through robin’s many failed attempts, it was settled that that was something that would never happen. in the end, she said that it was probably because you and him were way too similar to one another, which you wholeheartedly disagreed with, and that was why you couldn’t be friends.

“let’s just stay away from each other during our shifts, okay? i’d rather not get sick right before the fourth of july,” you told him.

“i’m fine,” he said again and then sniffled, which didn’t help prove his case. “but, i will happily stay far away from you.”

apparently, he wasn’t really fine because the next day he didn’t show up for work and it was just you for the entirety of the morning before keith showed up in the afternoon.

“where’s steve?”

“called in sick,” keith told you. “i almost didn’t believe him, but he actually sounded pretty bad on the phone.”

keith’s words didn’t surprise you at all, but for some reason for the rest of your shift you contemplated going over to steve’s house; bringing him a cup of the soup that was your mom’s recipe but you’d always end up making it for yourself when you were sick because of how much she worked, and also bringing him the cough syrup that seemed to always do the trick. and then you felt stupid for wanting to do anything that would help make him feel better because you didn’t even consider him a friend.

but still, when your shift ended you found yourself heading home to make the said soup and grab the cough syrup, and then proceed to go over to his house. your conflicting thoughts were fighting each other on the entire drive over.

“has this been poisoned?” steve asked when he opened his front door and you told him that you brought him soup since he was sick; hearing the words fall from your lips even surprised you, so his question actually somewhat made sense in your eyes.

but instead of acknowledging the fact that it was really insane that you were at his house right then, you sarcastically decided to say, “shit, i knew i forgot to add one ingredient!”

“ha ha,” he said with a straight face. “seriously, should i trust this?”

you rolled your eyes at him. “oh god, i’m already regretting coming here. just take the fucking soup, harrington.”

after another moment of contemplation, he took the tupperware of soup from your outstretched hand and then opened the door further to let you in. you followed him to the kitchen where he placed the tupperware on the counter.

“you didn’t have to bring me anything.”

you knew that, but there was still something in you that made you want to.

“i know, but i need you to get better fast so that i don’t have to spend another shift only with keith.”

he smirked at you. “so you missed me?”

you forced yourself not to consider his question for a second.

“‘missed’ is a very strong word,” you told him and then quickly changed the subject. “you look really bad right now, by the way.”

he was wearing a hoodie and basketball shorts, his hair was disheveled, and his nose was red from how much you assumed he’d been blowing it all day. it was probably the worst you’d ever seen him and you actually found yourself feeling bad for him, which was something that quickly confused you.

“glad to know your main reason for coming over here was to bully me.”

you smiled at him. “i can’t go a day without it.”

you then remembered something and started to pull it out of your bag. “oh, i brought some cough syrup too. you probably have already taken some, but just in case.”

“i actually haven’t taken anything,” he told you.

you furrowed your eyebrows. “so you’ve just been suffering all day?”

“is that not normal?”

the genuine curiosity in his question confused you for a moment before it all clicked into place. you silently wondered if he had ever been taken care of when he was sick. his parents were rarely ever around so you figured the answer was probably no. it reminded you of how often you’d also have to fend for yourself when you were sick since your mom was barely home. maybe robin was right— you and him were pretty similar.

“no, that’s not normal,” you shook your head at him before handing him the cough syrup. “please take this. you’ll feel better much quicker than if you just ‘let it pass,’ and i can’t believe this is something that i have to explain to you.”

he nodded and took the cough syrup before continuing to eat the soup, which he thanked you for and complimented you on how good it was.

the two of you eventually migrated to the couch in his living room, letting reruns of some random sitcom play out in front of you.

“y’know robin would be very proud of us right now,” steve said, breaking the prevailing silence. “actually being civil with each other.”

“yeah, she would,” you agreed. “but, we’re still not friends.”

“of course not,” he responded with a shake of his head. “the world would probably explode if we were.”

“exactly,” you agreed, letting out a small laugh. “and we cannot allow that to happen.”

but still, as the cough syrup kicked in and he fell asleep leaning on your shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed.