#You are shoving that mirror in their face

[sarahsangelicdoll]

omlll i LOVED this, especially since anal is like one of my biggest kinks 😋

“The sound of fabric ripping has you gasping, Rafe pulling your underwear clean off your body and tossing the shredded fabric onto the floor. Goosebumps line your arms and legs as the cool air in the room hits your soaked core and you press your thighs together. Rafe harshly slaps the backs of your thighs, making your head fall forward, a cry of pain and pleasure falling from your parted lips.”

this did something to me oml gimme a minute

““Takin’ my cock so good baby, my little slut loves when I fuck her ass doesn’t she? I think that’s why you misbehave…” He trails off, running his hands up your sides until he reaches your face. He hooks his index and middle fingers of both hands into the sides of your mouth, pulling tightly, forcing your mouth wide open and forcing your head up, putting your eyes on his through the mirror. “You misbehave because you love being punished… Don’t you, baby? You love when I shove my cock in this tight little ass, you love your ass being spanked raw.””

“You try and choke out a response, but the way Rafe’s fingers were hooking into your mouth only had drool running down the sides of your lips. Rafe chuckled darkly, “Awww poor thing, can’t even fucking talk when I got you fish hooked like this. Turned you into a babbling, drooling mess.””

STOPP THIS IS SO HOT PWINMCHAURIFB

““That’s it… That’s my girl, I feel your ass squeezing my cock… You gonna cum f’me? You gonna cum just from having your ass fucked, baby?””

Yes yes i would 😩

This entire fic is SO good and i will be rereading it on numerous occasions, Rafe + anal is just… *chefs kiss* 💋

ᰔᩚ Day Three of Slutmas// Naughty or Nice— R.C

Rafe has to punish you after you act bratty at a Christmas party.

CW: smut! 18+ only! mean!rafe, brat taming, spanking, anal, mirror sex, rafe fishhooks his fingers in your mouth, ends with sweet!rafe.

slutmas masterlist

🎄❤️

“Rafe, ‘m sorry!” You cry out, fighting against the grip he has on your upper arm.

Rafe stops in his tracks, slowly turning to face you. You stop fighting, standing still, swallowing harshly as you meet his darkened over eyes.

“You’re… You’re sorry?! You just— Fuck! Babe, you just fucking embarrassed me! In front of all our friends! Why the fuck did you think it was okay to fucking act out like that? I mean… Jesus, I thought we were past that little bratty act you played when we first met, but I guess you still need to be taught a fucking lesson.”

You open your mouth to speak but Rafe throws his free hand up in the air, letting you know he didn’t want to hear anymore excuses from you. You knew you fucked up, you knew popping off at him and testing at his patience by disobeying him was a mistake, but you were sick of him treating you like a child he could control.

Rafe gets you out to his truck, opening the passenger door and tossing you inside before slamming it shut. The doors lock automatically, and you’re too afraid to attempt escaping. Rafe didn’t scare you, but you knew when he was angry like this, it was best not to push him any further.

The drive back to Tannyhill is uncomfortably silent, and the second you’re in the driveway, your hands grow clammy, shaking as you lace and unlace them together. Rafe throws the truck in park, shutting off the engine and letting out a deep breath. He places both hands on the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turn white as his head hangs between his arms.

“Out.” He demands, not once looking up.

You quickly obey, opening your door and hopping out of the truck. You silently stand outside the car, watching as he gathers himself before he too exits the truck. He rounds the vehicle, reaching you in seconds and gripping your upper arm again, making you cry out from the way his fingers dig into the underside of your arm.

“Rafe! Please… I promise I’ll be-”

Rafe stops at the front door, his keys fisted into his other hand. He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he rolls his neck. “Just… Stop fucking talking, alright? You’ve said and done enough.”

Quickly unlocking the door, he tosses you past the threshold, slamming it shut behind him. He turns to face you, his pretty eyes darkened over, his anger evident in the way his nostrils flare and his jaw ticks. He lets out a slow, calm breath. “Upstairs. Now.” He demands, and the tone of his voice leaves no room for arguing.

You slowly let your head fall, playing with your fingers as you silently make your way up the stairs. Rafe’s heavy breathing can be heard behind you, followed by the loud thump of his feet hitting the stairs with each step he takes. You reach your bedroom door, your sweaty palm reaching out and grasping the handle.

Swallowing the knot in your throat you push the door open, making your way into the dark bedroom and slowly stripping yourself of your dress— the least you could do is make this easier, the less Rafe has to ask of you, the better.

Rafe strolls in behind you, leaving the door wide open as he makes his way toward you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his ringed fingers splaying against your stomach, sending a chill through your body. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he runs his nose up the length of your neck. “Such a good girl, already stripped f’me…” He runs his hands up your sides, reaching your chest and cupping at your breasts harshly, pulling a sharp breath from you. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not enough. You embarrassed me, baby… You showed your ass and acted like a fuckin’ brat tonight… So… You know what I have to do.”

You softly nod your head. “I know… ‘M sorry Ra- ahh!”

Your words die, a scream escaping you when he grips your upper arm, his grip bruising as he digs his fingers into your skin. He drags you across the room, forcing you to stop in front of the dresser that sits against the back wall of the room, a large mirror sat on top of it. He pushes you forward, forcing your body to bend over the cold wood. Your fingers grip at the sides, knuckles turning white from how hard you were holding on.

The sound of fabric ripping has you gasping, Rafe pulling your underwear clean off your body and tossing the shredded fabric onto the floor. Goosebumps line your arms and legs as the cool air in the room hits your soaked core and you press your thighs together. Rafe harshly slaps the backs of your thighs, making your head fall forward, a cry of pain and pleasure falling from your parted lips.

“Open your legs, baby, you know how this works.”

You slowly spread your legs, lowering your face down onto the dresser, the cool surface sending chills through your body. Rafe pushes off the dresser, putting some space between the two of you. You hear him open the closet door, the unmistakable sound of his belt being pulled from a hanger fills your ears. You lift your head, meeting Rafe’s eyes in the reflection. He smirks at you as he wraps the leather belt around his hands, slowly making his way toward you.

He steps behind you, slowly unwrapping the belt from his hand and bringing it down, dragging it across your ass. You suck in a sharp breath, body tensing as he continues to drag the leather belt across your skin. Goosebumps prickle across your arms, opening your mouth to speak but only a shrill scream escapes as Rafe lifts the belt, bringing it down to connect with your skin, a loud crack echoing through the room.

“That’s one. Gonna need you to count each one, baby. If you miss one, we start over.”

Tears fill your eyes and you swallow over the knot clogging your throat, mumbling a weak “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” Rafe rasps, doubling the belt over and snapping it twice before he runs it over the red, sensitive spot on your ass.

Slap! The leather meets your skin again, on the left side this time, and you allow the tears to spill over. “T-Two..” you choke out.

Rafe continues his actions, slapping the leather belt against your ass before soothingly rubbing at the skin. By the time he’s done, your ass is red, raw and sore. Mascara stains your cheeks and your eyes burn, nostrils clogged from how hard you’d been crying.

Tossing the belt to the ground below, Rafe drops to his knees, his hands softly rubbing at your ass, making you hiss in a breath at the sting of his hands on your sore skin. His tongue darts out, licking at the deep red, welted marks left by his belt, his lips leaving soft kisses on the skin before he mumbles, “Look so perfect with your ass marked by my belt…” He places another soft kiss to your sore skin before he rises to his full height, towering behind you.

He wraps a hand in your hair, pulling your tear and mascara stained face off the dresser and forcing your bloodshot eyes on him through the mirror. “Do you think that was enough punishment, baby?”

You swallow thickly, knowing that he doesn’t believe it was. Rafe really believes in getting his point across, and ten slaps to your ass with his belt isn’t enough, so you slowly shake your head ‘no’.

He smiles widely, his eyes shining as he brings his bottom lip between his teeth. “Right answer, such a good girl, aren’t you baby?”

“Y-Yes… Your good girl, Rafe.” You stutter out, giving him your own weak smile.

Rafe releases your hair, letting your head fall forward. You loosen your hold on the dresser, allowing your muscles to relax for a moment as you listen to him remove his clothes behind you. You force your head up, meeting Rafe’s intense gaze through the reflection of the mirror once more, your eyes flitting down and staring at his long, thick cock.

Rafe smirks at you, spitting into the palm of his right hand before he tightly grips his cock, stroking himself as he slowly walks toward you again. The weight of his body presses into your backside, and you inhale sharply through your nose. Rafe continues to stroke his dick, coating his length with his spit before his left hand makes purchase on your hip.

“Relax, or this’ll hurt more than it needs to, baby.” Rafe rasps, pressing the swollen tip of his dick into your tight hole.

A whimper escapes you when his thick head disappears inside you, a low groan leaving Rafe as he places his right hand on your other hip, keeping you still as he slams his hips forward, burying himself inside you.

“Fuck! Rafe, s-so good! You’re so b-big… It hurts…” You whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks as Rafe keeps his hips flush against your ass. He lets out a low grunt, slowly pulling himself out and slamming forward again. Your hips slam against the dresser with each brutal thrust of Rafe’s hips, choked out sobs escaping you as he pounds himself into your ass.

“Takin’ my cock so good baby, my little slut loves when I fuck her ass doesn’t she? I think that’s why you misbehave…” He trails off, running his hands up your sides until he reaches your face. He hooks his index and middle fingers of both hands into the sides of your mouth, pulling tightly, forcing your mouth wide open and forcing your head up, putting your eyes on his through the mirror. “You misbehave because you love being punished… Don’t you, baby? You love when I shove my cock in this tight little ass, you love your ass being spanked raw.”

You try and choke out a response, but the way Rafe’s fingers were hooking into your mouth only had drool running down the sides of your lips. Rafe chuckled darkly, “Awww poor thing, can’t even fucking talk when I got you fish hooked like this. Turned you into a babbling, drooling mess.”

Rafe smirks, a low groan escaping him when he feels your tight ass squeezing at his dick. He pulls his right hand from your mouth, spitting down into his palm and landing a harsh slap against your sensitive skin before he begins pistoning his hips at a brutal pace, the lewd sounds of skin slapping skin bouncing off your bedroom walls.

“That’s it… That’s my girl, I feel your ass squeezing my cock… You gonna cum f’me? You gonna cum just from having your ass fucked, baby?”

More hot tears spill down your cheeks, your mind hazy as you slowly nod your head the best you can. You feel your pussy clenching around nothing while your ass tightens around Rafe’s cock. His thrusts become choppy, hips stuttering as his dick swells inside your ass. You cry out his name as a warm feeling takes over your body. You cum harder than you think you ever have before, and Rafe’s right behind you, dropping his left hand from your mouth and burying his face into the crook of your neck. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he cums inside your ass in long, slow spurts.

Once he comes down from his high, he’s kissing softly at your shoulder, kissing over the teeth marks he’d left in your smooth skin. He slowly pulls his cock from your ass, gently peeling your fingers off the sides of the dresser and lifting you into his arms. He carries you into the bathroom, placing a loving kiss on the top of your head as he whispers, “You know I love you, right? Please don’t make me have to do that again anytime soon… I hate hurting you.”

🎄❤️

tagging some moots: @nemesyaaa @rafeyscurtainbangs @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @starkeysprincess @oceandriveab @rafesbabygirlx @littlelamy @httpsdrewstarkey @drewsephrry @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll

[hesperisms]

// Knight Shift

This is my submission for @nanamiscocksleeve Christmas Secret Santa Fic Exchange! I was tasked with writing for the wonderful @reilemon ! "Please don't squirm...you're making it very hard for me to be a gentleman..."

// summary: you get a little too drunk and make a fool of yourself at the bar, requiring Zayne to haul you out of there.

// content warnings: 18+ (mdni), fluff, second-hand embarrassment, pet names, early-mid relationship, THE IMPLICATION, toothache cuteness, husband as HECK

// a/n: when I saw this prompt go on the list I was so hopeful I'd get it and I'm so glad I did! I hope I did your idea justice <3 Happy Holidays

likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

1:04 AM Zayne's phone screen beamed a soft blue glow back at him as he sat in his car in the darkened hospital carpark, brow furrowed as he skimmed through his notifications at the end of his shift.

A veritable forensic timeline of your night, his nimble finger scrolled through Moment post after Moment post documenting your Christmas party, smiling and shaking his head as he watched each captured tease of your night progressing. The Moment posts were very innocent at the beginning of the night and they made him smile to himself, you looking cute and bright-eyed in your new dress, twirling in your bedroom mirror to show him what you planned to wear. He felt a blush creep into his cheeks as he watched you, beaming happily and giggling with your colleagues at the bar.

Gradually however, the blush and the smile were replaced by a tight, protective, possessive feeling in his chest and a pit in his stomach as your drinks began to flow freely. The little brightly colored umbrellas from your cocktails were now starting to get stacked up in your messy updo like a crown of flowers, each video adding to your pile of paper adornments as the footage got blurrier and more concerning to him. Zayne had never been much of a drinker himself and you had pinched his cheeks as you rolled your eyes at him, insisting you could handle it when he asked you to be careful and pace yourself tonight, but the most recent Moment posts told a different story to your dismissals.

An hour ago, blurry new male faces appearing beside you and your friend that he didn't recognize as being colleagues of yours and they definitely weren't as drunk as you; twenty minutes ago a shaky POV of you cheer-screaming at the top of your lungs as your friend downed a double shot of something as they spurred her on. Thirty seconds ago a jumbled black screen mess of your phone clattering to the floor as you howled with laughter and someone tried to help you up, shoving another drink into your hand.

"This has gone on long enough; she's too drunk to be among strangers", Zayne thought to himself with a scowl as he started the car and began to navigate his way towards the location you'd tagged in your Moment posts. He dialed your number as he drove and after what felt like half a lifetime, you picked up the phone.

"ZAAAAAAAAAAAYNIE! ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYNIE!" you slurred at him excitedly as your glassy and unfocused eyes finally came into view on the facetime call. You were so much drunker than he expected you to be, so much so that he was half-questioning if something had been slipped into your drinks. "Zaynie I've been having SO. MUSH. FUN. with my new frenzzz here...what uhh...what were your namsh again?" you asked with a giggle as one of the unrecognized men muttered in the background and swiped at your phone when you turned it towards him.

Zayne forced a slight smile for you and spoke in a slow, even tone that hid his true feelings about the situation "I just finished my shift, I thought you might like me to come pick you up and we can finish the night with some dessert, hmmm?". With how happy you'd been to answer his call, he expected an enthusiastic yes, so when you pouted and whined that you were still having fun with your new friends, you weren't ready to leave yet, Zayne couldn't hide his icy scowl. "I'll be there in five minutes, Y/N, I'll carry you out of the bar if I have to." Zayne stated in a firm, no-nonsense tone.

Whether you hung up accidentally or deliberately didn't matter to Zayne, what mattered was you were alone and very drunk with strangers. His knuckles gripped the leather steering wheel tightly and he sped up a little, pushing the boundaries of how comfortable he felt speeding at this late hour. All he cared about was getting to you and getting you home safely.

Leaving his car a block away from the bar, Zayne jogged up to the doors, only to be stopped by the two large men guarding the entrance with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Too late for new entries, Sir" one of them said with a note of apology to his tone as he blocked Zayne from going further. Standing up on his tiptoes to peek over their shoulders, Zayne shook his head and began to make his case to them. "Sorry gents, I'm trying to collect someone. You might've seen her? Blue and white dress, about this tall, very drunk?". With timing so perfect only the cosmos could've coordinated it, you let out a loud squeal of laughter that carried through the open doorway, followed by a crash of what sounded like breaking glass. "Speak of the devil...May I?" Zayne winced in apology as the two bouncers looked at each other then back to him with a nod and stepped aside.

"Better you get her out quietly than we have to turf her out, Sir."

Nodding back with an apologetic tight smile, Zayne pat the shoulder of the bouncer in thanks as he passed, making a beeline for where your noise came from. When you had slipped and fallen off the barstool, your heel had snapped off your left shoe and you were drunkenly wobbling, trying and failing to understand why you had no balance.

Placing a hand gently on your shoulder so that you knew he was there, Zayne made his presence known. "Looks like I got here right on time, Y/n" he raised his voice above the cacophony of noise around you in the bar. On seeing your eyes light up in recognition, he dropped to one knee in front of you, beckoning for you to stick your foot out to him. Rewarding you with a slight smile as you complied, Zayne slid his hand delicately around your heel and began to unbuckle the strap on your shoe, slipping it off your foot. Repeating the process with your other foot, your bare feet now flat to the floor, you looked even smaller compared to his tall broad frame as he hooked his index finger into the straps of your shoes to hold onto them as he stood up, picking paper umbrellas out of your hair and letting them fall to the floor.

"Lets get you home," Zayne said to you softly, eyes scanning between the floor and your short dress, frowning at the broken glass you would risk navigating to the exit. "Hold these for me please," he instructed you, handing your heels back to you, before slipping his suit jacket off and wrapping it around your hips so that it draped down over the back of your legs to protect your modesty. You blinked at him in confusion before letting out a little squeal of surprise as he wrapped his strong arm around your thigh and picked you up over his shoulder, holding you tightly and securely in his arms. "Don't worry Y/n, I've got you, I won't drop you" he said confidently as he headed back past the bouncers at the front door.

"Zaaaaaaynie," you giggled tipsily. "You're carrying me like a princess, am I your princess?" You teased him as you clung to his neck tightly, your heels and your purse tapping into his strong shoulder blades rhythmically as he walked you back to his car. He paused mid-stride and pulled his head back to look you in the eyes, noting they weren't as glassy as they had been, but you were still far from sober. "My knight in shining armor," you giggled and buried your head in his shoulder. Zayne answered you with a low rumbling hum, your words stirring something in him that makes the tips of his ears flush red. He hoped you were still too drunk to notice and you seemed to be.

He delicately cradled your head to avoid you hitting it as he bundled you into his car passenger seat and he paused, stunned for a second when you suddenly reached up and stroked his hair gently, like you were petting a cat. "So soft..." you murmured sleepily. Zayne cleared his throat and pulled his head away hoping you wouldn't notice the flush deepening. "Feel free to sleep in the car on the way home, I'll wake you when we get there," he whispered to you as he leaned across you to lock in your seatbelt, but by the time he looked up to your face you were already out like a light, your breathing steady and peaceful, cuddling your shoes and your purse to your chest.

Zayne smiled down at you gently, brushing his thumb against your cheek tenderly and closed the car door as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb your slumber. Zayne drove carefully the whole way to your apartment, taking care not to accelerate or brake too suddenly and risk jarring you out of your sleep.

He needn't have worried, because you didn't stir when he opened the passenger side door or when he reached across you to unbuckle your seatbelt. "Princess Y/n," he whispered to you, a playful tone sneaking into his voice. "Wakey wakey your knight is trying to carry you in." Zayne smiled at you as your half-lidded eyes fluttered open sleepily and you struggled to focus. He chuckled and shook his head with an exasperated sigh as you held your hands out to him expectantly, but he still bundled you into his arms to carry you bridal-style up into your apartment complex without a word of complaint.

Zayne shifted you in his arms, putting you down for a second so that he could punch in your front door code. Missing the warmth of his strong arms and the steady beating of his heart lulling you, you snuggled in tightly against his chest, slipping your arms around his hips and pressing yourself flat up against him.

"Please don't squirm...you're making it very hard for me to be a gentleman..." Zayne blushed, reaching to stroke your hair. "Are you steady enough to stand on your own now?" He asked gently. You nodded up at him with a smile, before blushing with an embarrassed giggle as you almost tripped on your own feet trying to walk to your couch. "Wait there, I'll be back in a moment," Zayne instructed you as he shut the door behind you both and made his way to your bedroom and bathroom, moving through your apartment confidently like his own.

From your bedroom he collected a set of pyjama shorts and a shirt of his you had promised to wash but had instead kept to sleep in; he never asked you about it after the fact, liking the idea of it being wrapped around you at night when he couldn't be much more than it gathering dust in his closet. Detouring to your bathroom, he took your toothbrush, loading it up with toothpaste for you, your retainer, your pack of makeup remover wipes and a jar of eye mask patches.

"Your dress, while beautiful, smells like a brewery I'm afraid," Zayne chuckled, sitting down beside you on the couch with the pile of supplies he'd collected for you. He held his hands out to you and made a "come hither" motion with his fingers, encouraging you to scoot closer to him until your knees touched. "Give me your face, Princess Y/n," he said gently, holding your chin delicately with his right hand as he pulled makeup wipes out of the pack with his left and began to carefully wipe the grime of the night from your face.

You sat barefaced in front of him, eyes closed and sighing contentedly at his delicate attentions, your skin tingling from the makeup wipes. "Nope, I'm just resting my eyes," you murmured with a smile when he gently tapped the tip of your nose asking if you had fallen asleep on him. You stiffened for a second as the cool shock of aloe hit your undereye and you opened your eyes lazily to see Zayne placing the little masks carefully and brushing them smooth with his thumbs. Zayne took hold of your chin again, pressing your mouth open with his thumb and index finger, before holding out the toothbrush and popping it into your mouth.

As you brushed your teeth sleepily, enjoying the calm domesticity between you both, Zayne picked up the clothes and put them in your lap with your retainer on top. "Go rinse and change into those while I throw away these wipes and put your phone on charge," he instructed you, brushing your hair back away behind your ears before taking the rubbish into your kitchen to dispose of. You made your way to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. Slipping the clean shirt on over your head, you noticed it smelled like him again and you knew you'd worn it to bed often enough that it had lost his smell...you half-wondered if he hadn't rubbed it on himself a little to transfer some fresh cologne to it for you and the thought made you flush with giddy happiness.

Looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror as you spat and rinsed your toothpaste, you couldn't help but grin to yourself, feeling so spoiled by him. After you disposed of the eye masks and fitted your retainer, you stepped out of the bathroom to find Zayne was nowhere to be found. Wandering through the apartment, you softly called out for him and felt a wave of relief wash over you as you heard him respond from your bedroom. Wandering in, the sight that welcomed you made your heart beat faster; true to his word, Zayne had plugged your phone in on your bedside to charge and was now fluffing your pillows and quilt for you. "There you are," he said with a teasing tone. "I was starting to think you might've passed out on your Knight again."

Zayne held his hand out to you and helped guide you into the bed, bundling you in under the covers, tucking you in. You grabbed his hand, catching his eyes as you felt his breath catch at your unexpected touch. "Stay with me? Please?" you asked and he nodded, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "As my Princess wishes," he responded, swallowing thickly. "Let me just get out of my suit and I'll stay the night with you". You watched Zayne's movements around the room with half-lidded eyes as he slipped his tie and belt off and draped his suit slacks over the back of your arm chair. His nimble fingers worked to undo his cufflinks and free himself from his button up shirt, which promptly followed his slacks onto the chair, the clink of his silver snowflake cufflinks hitting your jewelry dish on your chest of drawers ringing through the silence.

"That gaze of yours is going to bore a hole in me if you keep it up, Your Highness," Zayne teased, a tone of a smirk to his accusation and you blushed, pulling the quilt up over your head. You felt the quilt pulled back from you and internally pouted that Zayne had already slipped on some pjyama bottoms you had bought and left for him to use at your place. He slid himself into the bed beside you and pulled your back up tight against his broad warm chest, wrapping his arms around you in a firm hug and planting one last kiss on your hair.

"Thank you for everything tonight Zaynie," you whispered. "Sometimes I feel like I don't des-"

"Shhh...." Zayne cut you off, his arms squeezing you tighter as he pressed his chin down on the top of your head. "I'm exactly where I want to be," he hummed to you. "If you really want to thank me for being your knight in shining armor, in the morning you can help me make us blueberry pancakes. For now though," Zayne punctuated his final thought by inhaling a deep breath of your hair. "Sleep, my Princess."

[jasvtsc]

cowgirl

“yeah, just like that, sweetheart. just like that,” he groaned, tilting his head back with a satisfied smile, your pigtails in a firm grip of his fist.

beau just loved you on top of him.

ever since he told you to ride that pillow, he wanted you on top constantly. honestly? he wanted you riding him as often as you could and wanted. whether it would be a simple grinding on his thigh, so he could watch you get yourself off or bouncing up and down his cock, your tits in his face.

or exactly what you were doing now—your back facing him as you moved your hips on him, his massive cock plundered inside you, your hair in his hand, keeping your head tilted back.

your eyes were closed and you were biting your lower lip, soft whimpers escaping from your mouth as you dug your fingers into his thighs. he watched you in the mirror in front of the bed, his eyes half-opened as he couldn’t really focus on anything else, hypnotized by the sweet sounds that escaped your rosy lips.

you were a sight for a sore eye and you had the prettiest facial expressions when pleasure was clouding your mind. he couldn’t stop touching you, his other hand roaming on your back and then sneaking to the front, squeezing your tits. he pinched your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the sensitive bud, feeling it harden under his calloused fingertips. he groaned, moving his hand lower and splaying it flat on your stomach, feeling himself inside of you through your skin. 

that was enough to make you still your movement and squeeze around him. beau let out a gravelly groan, his fingers now digging into your hip which left you knowing that you would for sure have some bruises there by tomorrow morning. not that you would mind—you loved it when he marked you whether by leaving hickeys on your neck and collarbones or dark purple imprints of his fingers on your thighs and stomach. beau tried to be gentle with the way he was manhandling you but you couldn’t help just loving it when he got a tiny bit rougher. cause when he was really in the deep haze driven by lust and his need for you, his senses just went out the window.

“fuck, that’s it, baby. just like that, keep squeezing,” he encouraged, his voice even deeper than usual. you whimpered again as your walls clamped down on his dick when you moved your hips down, taking him deeper and his tip hit your cervix. a loud moan escaped your lips and then you cried out his name, which was like music to his ears.

it was also enough to awaken his animalistic instincts. he pulled you off of him and turned both of you around, so your back hit the mattress as he hovered above you.

“you’re so pretty, sweetheart. my pretty baby,” he cooed, accompanied by a squelching sound as he dove his cock back into your dripping heat.

a soft gasp escaped your lips as you arched your back to take him deeper, craving that feeling of him stretching you out to your limits and hitting your deepest and sweetest spots. he smirked in male satisfaction as he kept pounding into you, sweat dripping down his honey-tinted skin from exertion. suddenly, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you look up at him as you eagerly sucked on his digits, swirling your tongue around them. with a low chuckle, he picked up the already rabid pace of his movements, watching you in awe as some drool dribbled out the corner of your mouth.

“you’re so eager, but so messy. you’re such a messy baby,” he hummed, but more so to himself. after a few seconds, he pulled his fingers out and instead moved them between your connected bodies and to your engorged clit, rubbing it at the rhythm fitting to his movements. 

you whimpered loudly, feeling your body getting out of control as you were slowly getting overstimulated with pleasure. a groan slipped past his lips as your needy walls squeezed him again, drawing him deeper as if you didn’t want him to pull out of you.

“so needy,” he panted, pressing his fingers to your sensitive bud. you whined and dragged your fingers over his back, which for sure would leave some marks.

but he would wear them proudly as a clear sign of how much pleasure he could bring to his sweet baby.

[skipper1331]

Art // Leah Williamson

You loved playing football yet drawing and painting was your silent passion. A passion nobody really knew about.

It all started when you were a kid. After a bad day, lost match you would be so angry and disappointed that you would draw your anger away. It didn‘t matter if it was with pencils, crayons or acrylic, you didn‘t care if it was on paper or on a canvas. You just had to draw/paint.

Slowly, it not only started to reduce your anger but to become a daily thing. Over the years you got better and better and even sold some paintings.

When you moved to London, transfered to Arsenal from the german league you took your painting utils with you.

In your new apartment was an extra room which used to be a guest room - you didn't need it, so you set it up as a painting room. The floor was covered with foil as were parts of the wall while many canvases and tubes of paint stood on the newly built shelves. Your desk was full of paper, sketchbooks, pens, erasers, etc. everything an artist needed. It was your favorite room in your apartment.

As the weeks went on, you drew everything interesting. Such as the training facility, jerseys, the stadium and much more.

But If someone would have looked through your sketchbook they would‘ve noticed that there was one thing or rather one person which was drawn very often. Arsenals number 6. Leah Williamson. You couldn‘t explain why but she was incredible. Everything about her was perfect; her talent, her personality, her smile. You just could not not draw her. Often you only realized that you had drawn her after your drawing was already finished and when drawing number 12 of Leah was finished you knew you had a crush on her. What you didn‘t realize though was a) she also developed a crush on you and b) your face and hands covered in paint and pencil has not gone unnoticed. To find out why that was the team formed an alliance. When Rosa questioned why they simply didn‘t ask you her head was smacked from Kyra, Alessia and Vic. "It‘s much more exciting this way" Kyra replied mischievously.

Mission Colour had officially started.

On bus rides, plane flights, away games you would always have your 'away sketchbook' and one pencil with you just to calm down or to stay calm. Most of the time you sat next to Manu, your national teammate. She was like big sister to you and of course she knew about your drawing talent but what she didn‘t know was that a few teammates wanted to find out. As well Manu knew about your little crush, not because you told her but because she saw your sketch of Leah and connected the dots.

It was the next day when you came to training with a blue stripe on you forehead and hands covered with many shades of blue. This morning you worked on your current project (a painting of the ocean) and lost track of time. You hadn‘t had the chance to look in the mirror again after you rushed out of your flat to the car.

Fast forward, here you were in the training facility in bright red clothes while your skin was covered in blue.

"Looking like Papa smurf" Katie laughed, gently shoving you towards the mirror in the changing room.

Your eyes widened in horror, "Shit" aggressively you started to rub at the stripe of paint but it was too late. The stripe was already dry. Making your way to the bathroom, you wet the paper towel, not much hope about cleaning your face.

"Hey" you heard a voice beside you, your eyes locking with the blonde defenders through the mirror, "do you need some help?" Leah asked, already concerned by the way you aggressively rubbed your forehead, "hey, lemme-" the girl gently tugged at your wrist as she turned you to face her. She grabbed another paper towel, putting a tiny bit of soap on it before she put it under water. In silence, the taller girl started to clean your face. Her movements were slow and tender as she tried to stay cool while she was so close to you. In the meantime, you admired the blonde, scanned every feature of her face.

"Secretly a Chelsea fan, huh?" the gunner asked, trying to ease the obvious tension in the room.

"Gosh no," you chuckled, "I was working on my new proctect this morning and lost track of time" you admitted, Leah raising a brow in return.

"You must think I’m pretty unorganized, hm?"

"of course not!" She replied immediately, "i was just wondering, project? What project?"

"It‘s nothing much, just a painting project" you shrugged your shoulders, "the ocean."

"I didn‘t know you could paint" she stated, the dots connecting with all the paint stains that covered your clothes and body since you had arrived in London.

"Maybe you‘d like to see some of my works?" your voice was quiet, shy as you nervously scratched your neck.

"It‘s a date" the same moment, Leah dropped the comment, you heard Kim call, "training starts" which let Leah hurry out of the room, leaving you completely shocked and with a mix of nervousness and excitement alone. Was she serious?

-

"Leah, wait!"

Training had finished half an hour ago, the girls, including you, doing their usual routines, some had physio, some went straight to the showers or others that just changed their clothes happy to finally go home - Leah, one of the girls who preferred to shower at home after a particularly long cardio session.

"Were you serious about the date? Because if not that would be totally fine, but if so, I’d really like to go on a date with you" you rambled, "we could go out for dinner or i could cook for you or not, because I’m not the greatest cook, but maybe take out would be fine too?! whatever you like works for me!"

"Take a deep breath, love" she smiled, squeezing your hand, "i was serious" her cheeks slowly turning red, "sorry, could‘ve been a bit more romantic, i admit, but indeed, I’d be very happy to go on a date with you"

"Oh, really!" you were so surprised, shocked even that the Leah Williamson wanted to go on a date with you.

"Yes, really. What about this: I’ll go home for a shower and at-" she looked at her watch, "at 7, I’ll be at your front door with some food in my hands. Neither of us has to cook and we can have a nice and relaxed evening, how does that sound?"

"That sounds perfect, thank you"

"See you soon" she smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek as she felt brave enough to do so in that moment.

Like in trance, you watched her walk away while your fingers touched the spot were lips had been a few seconds ago. Wow.

On the other hand as soon as Leah sat in her car, she did a little happy dance, finally getting the chance to spend some time with you alone and even better, being able to call it a date.

-

5 minutes early the defender stood in front of your door, two bags of food in one hand while the other hand held a bouquet of flowers.

With confidence Leah rang the door bell, she felt untouchable. She had a date with the prettiest girl and nothing would stop her from trying to be the best version of herself for you. She really wanted this to work out.

In all honesty, Leah had been crushing on you for quite a while. It all started with an international friendly where you both were captaining your nations. You fell in conversation easily, the blonde friends with some of your national teammates.

Since then the Lioness followed you on your socials, also enjoying watching you play football - something about your technic and brain for the game made her fall in love with football all over again.

When the announcement was made that you‘d join Arsenal, she was excited, overly so. She wanted to talk to you again, be your friend. But soon the thought of just being friends combined with her little crush on you that was getting bigger and bigger day by day was long forgotten. She wanted to get to know you, on a deeper level than just the typical friendly one.

"Hey! Welcome in" you said with a wide smile, stepping aside.

"Hi, these are for you" the defenders cheeks turned slightly pink as yours did too.

"These are beautiful, thank you so much" the bouquet was big mix of multiple flowers in multiple colours, "i didn‘t know what your favorite flower was, so i bought one of each they had"

"I love it and I really appreciate it" shy smiles were exchanged before your attention was brought back, "follow me. So this is my living room and as you can see, there‘s my kitchen. I hope you like wine? I found this one in my cupboard" you pointed at the bottle on your coffee table. "Here let me plate the food, make yourself a home" as you wandered off to the kitchen, Leah admired your home. It was tidy yet looked very cozy. Then her gaze fell to various of pictures and paintings you had in your living room. One in particular caught her attention, it reminded her of something that she couldn’t form in words, an familiar warm feeling filled her chest as she looked at it closely - something about this painting was special.

-

The night went on with an ease, everything felt so natural. Dinner was great, the conversation flowing, the tv long forgotten as both of your attentions were on each other. Throughout the night the two of you had moved closer, knees already touching as you shared jokes and stories about everything and nothing.

"I must say, i really like the paintings in here. This one especially" she pointed at your favorite.

"Thank you, that‘s very nice of you to say"

"How much did they cost you? They look so expensive!" she admired, quickly realizing what an rude question she asked, "oh I’m so sorry, that‘s not something I should be asking"

"No, don’t worry, you’re good" you assured her, "they didn‘t cost me anything, i did them myself" you said, "well, that‘s a lie, i had to buy the canvas and the paint but other than that i didn‘t cost me anything."

"No way! You really did these? Are you joking?"

You shook your head.

"Wow! These are amazing. Like seriously, you’ve got some serious talent!"

Soon you furiously started to blush, getting all shy as you looked away from the gunner.

"Can i see the ocean painting which you talked earlier about?" she remembered, hoping to get see more of your work.

"Sure, but it‘s not finished yet"

"That‘s fine. I‘d see anything you painted, really, this is so impressive"

"Stop" you buried your face in your hands, your cheeks as hot as ever, the tip of your ears a deep shade of red, "hey, no. Don’t hide that pretty face of yours" taking your hands out of your face, you stared at each other as everything around you fell silent. Both of you were so close, if you would just lean forward-

"Here follow me" you broke the silence, grabbing the lioness’ hand and dragging her to your art room, "don’t mind the mess" you said as you opened the door, showing Leah the inside of your heart.

For once, the defender didn‘t know what to say. Everywhere she looked where painting, sketches and drawings. It was like she not only stepped into your heart but also your brain.

"Wow" she whispered, in utter disbelief at what she saw. You did this. All of this!

Walking around the room Leah felt like she was at an art gallery, heavily impressed about the beauty she got to see in each painting.

"May i look in these too?" she asked once she was at your desk, sketchbooks across the table.

Slowly, you nodded. In that moment, you didn’t even think about the fact that you had sketched Leah too, and that more than once.

Every now and then, compliments slipped out while her fingers traced the lines and shapes of your art.

Then she stopped, silence deafening, "is that me?" she whispered, looking at more pages of herself.

"What? Shit, no, no, no." With a few quick steps, you slammed the book shut. Too embarrassed to even look at her, "you weren‘t supposed to see those" you muttered.

"So it was me?" she asked again, even though it was quite obvious that it was her indeed.

"Yes, I’m sorry. I‘m not a creep i promise! You‘re just- just so-" your brain went blank.

"yeah?"

"you‘re… you‘re just so amazing and i- I really like you. And i only realized that i sketched you once it was too late. I‘m really sorry! You weren‘t even supposed to see them. I‘m not a creep, I’m just in love with you and i never thought you‘d like me back and now you‘re here with me on date. Well at least that‘s what you said it was. But it‘s totally fine, if you don’t want it to be a date anymore or if you want leave now or-" in the middle of your ramble, Leah cut you off, with her lips gently pressing against your own, a perfect way to shut you up. Your body relaxed immediately as your lips responded to the new sensation. Leah’s hands fell to your hips while yours laid on her stomach, your brain not knowing where else to put them as it was completely consumed by Leah kissing you.

Here you were in the heart of your art with Leah, the most beautiful girl, who was kissing you, the artist.

And even though, most artist are only known for their work by everyone after their death, you weren‘t most and Leah surely wasn‘t everyone. She was the one.

"Wow"

"Indeed wow"

You both stared at each other in silence, loving the tranquil atmosphere you had created.

"So what should i call you now? Picasso? Van Gogh? Michelangelo? Da Vinci?"

You laughed at her comment, playfully hitting her chest while she pulled you even closer in return.

"While i did like Papa smurf, I’d eventually prefer my girlfriend" she smiled, leaning in once again.

[mystellenia]

soft christmas morning with vi ❄︎

summary: you and vi wake up on a chilly christmas morning

content: nothing nsfw :] just stupid fluffy domestic vibes with vi and christmas morning brrrrr. making vi my stupid cutie pie little domestic baby i need her in my bed so we can bedrot Together. also i posted this for like 5 minutes with ellie instead of vi but then i was like hey ive been wanting to post for vi so how about this be my first vi post yay.

notes: tell me why i’m in my active era again (two posts within a month and a half). this reminds me of a fic i wrote waaaaaaaay back when for ellie so go check it out and smash that like button for more killer vids like this. and i double posted too i’m such an active queen. read christmas mirror sex with vi thru the link ;)

(wc 0.8k)

vi's soft snores wake you up, her parted lips pressed against the shell of your ear. her red hair was messy laid out on her pillow, and stray tendrils tickled the curve of your neck. you press a feather-light kiss to her forehead to not wake her up and brush your hand over her head to smooth the loose hairs out of her face. she stirs a bit, quietly mumbling into your jaw. 

"baby...?" she mutters. her hand dips under the side of her blue whale boxers, scratching at her protruding hip bone before coming up to her face to rub the sleep from her eyes.  

"yes, honey?" 

your small, four-foot christmas tree stood tucked in the corner of your shared bedroom, dim fairy lights blinking around the polaroids and small drawings you two had opted for instead of ornaments. a couple of boxes wrapped in adventure time wrapping paper—vi had insisted—sat beneath the tree.  

the sun had just begun to rise, and the dim light from the crack in the curtains was enough to make her wince and shove her face into your shoulder. "what time is it?" 

your hand fishes in the sheets for your phone. you find vi's instead and lift it to your face to wake the screen. "it's... 6:07," you read from her dimmed display. 

she groans, pulling the duvet over your heads. "it's too early... let's go back to sleep, please." 

you fondly chuckle at her grogginess. "it's also christmas," you whisper, your smile audible in your voice. 

she just mumbles, sniffling and smacking her lips. "yeah..." she rolls onto her side, having your body spoon hers. "wait..." she says urgently, as if just processing what you had said. "wait, it's christmas." 

"well, that is what i said, violet." 

"ohh my goosshh, it's christmasss..." she slurs, her enthusiasm quickly replaced by exhaustion. you press your nose into her hair, huffing deeply as you begin to lull yourself back to sleep. just when you think she's fallen back asleep, her morning voice cuts through the silence. 

"do you think honey baked ham is open on christmas?" she asks. 

"maybe. maybe for very last-minute christmas meals." 

"oh... okay, okay." a few seconds go by, and then: "do you think we could doordash a honey baked ham on christmas?" 

"christmas is today. do you mean today?" you correct her.  

she leans over and grabs the glass of water she got in the middle of the night, bringing the rim up to her mouth and downing the water left in the cup. 

"christmas is today. yeah, can we doordash a honey baked ham tomorr- today?" 

"yes, vi, if they still have them, we can get two—one for you and one for me." 

"hell yeah," she mutters. 

her body twitched with a chill, and she cursed under her breath at the sharp temperature in the room. "shit, it's so cold. the one and only thing i hate about christmas time." 

"the quilt my parents sent us is in the linen closet. you want me to get it?" 

she looks back with pleading eyes. "please, my perfect sugarplum princess pie who i love so much." 

"i'm gonna leave you to get frostbite and freeze to death," you joke while getting out from under the covers to walk the short distance down the hall. 

you reach the closet and pull the thick, padded quilt out from in between two other blankets, its tightly folded fabric hiding the full design of sprouts and ferns. shivering at an especially sharp draft, you pick up the pace and shuffle back to the warmth of the bed. 

shaking the quilt out, you quickly spread it across the bed and rush to get under it, pressing your body against vi’s.  

"i’m gonna set an alarm for 7 so we can order the ham because we're gonna have to order early if we want one. then once it gets here, we'll sleep until 11." 

vi rolls over to face you, a mischievious smile curling her lips upwards. "i couldn't think of a better plan." 

"perfect." you pull the freshly laid quilt up to yours and vi’s chins, nuzzling your head into your pillow. "good night, baby. i love you." 

"um, actually, it's 6 am, so it should be good morning." you can tell if it weren't so cold, she would take her hand out from the blanket to push a pair of imaginary glasses up her nose. 

"you're such a smartass. good morning. merry christmas, vi." 

"merry christmas," she whispers back. "i love you more." 

merry christmas to those who celebrate!!! happy holidays to those who dont!!! yay spread peace and love and joy to the world hooray

[vengefultakeover]

A Dance of Life and Death

I was never a dancer. I was tall, wide, and chubby. I could barely walk let alone perform the dance moves I had seen some of these performers. I took care of the campus, making sure the rooms were well kept, the equipment returned after rehearsals, and the trash didn't overflow with half eaten granola bars and pre-made salads.

I was watching one of the rehearsal one day, my arms crossed and my eyes following the movements of the dancers as they made sure their movements were crisp in the long mirror. There was one man in particular that always caught my eye and he would catch me looking at him in the mirror. I never said anything to him, thinking he would definitely say no. I was about his age so why couldn't we go out on a date? Rehearsal ended and I was going to say something to him, but decided against it. Unfortunately, he caught me before I could leave.

"Why do you always stare at me?" He was much more aggressive than I thought he was going to me.

"Sorry, you all are just so good at what you do." I said with a smile, meeting him with kindness.

"Well stop. You always distract me. Do whatever it is your good at." He crushed a plastic water bottle and tossed it on the ground. He shoved himself past me and I watched him walk away while my face flushed hot.

"That was rude." I heard a voice say.

"Right?" I responded. When I turned to see who it was I found that I was alone with the crushed bottle on the ground. I thought nothing of it, to distracted by the fact that this man was so cruel. I don't know why I expected any less.

The following day it was business as usual except I made sure I wasn't in view when i was watching them rehearse. I peered around the window and watched as the pre-recorded piano filled the studio. I didn't think he would notice, but somehow he did. Over the next few days i was finding things that had never been there before, knocked over equipment, garbage bins that had been tipped over, even writing in the bathroom specifically calling me out for being a creep. I didn't know what to do except talk to him.

So, rehearsal finished on the day I had enough and I walked right up to him. The room cleared quickly and we were left alone. He was shirtless except for a pair of black shorts cut to leave nothing to the imagination. He smirked when I stopped in front of him.

"What did I do to you?" I asked.

"You're just creepy." He rolled his eyes and started walking away from me.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." I pulled his arm. I regretted it immediately. I wasn't sure what came over me.

"Don't fucking touch me. You're nothing and you always will be." He spit on the ground. "Now clean that up." My face got so hot that I thought steam would come out of my ears or my eyes would burst inside their sockets, but instead everything went black. When I finally came to I was looking at the dancer on the ground with blank eyes. I didn't know what happened, but from what I could tell I must have pushed him too hard and he knocked out.

I checked for a pulse. Nothing.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" I made sure no one had seen anything before I tried making a plan. Do I call the police? I could say he fell. But he's a dancer, he's supposed to have excellent balance. They would never believe me.

While I was panicking, his body started to move behind me. His chest puffed up and his mouth opened and snapped shut. His fingers curled just as his arms would twist and I finally turned around to him standing up.

"Holy shit are you okay?" I was reaching out to him, but he just gasped as he looked down at himself. Was he admiring his body? Maybe he had a concussion.

"It feels so good to be alive again." He went from checking himself out to doing stretches. Arms extending across his body, legs jumping and finally a roll of his neck. Something popped back into place just as he locked eyes with me.

"What's happening?" I was confused. Still panicking because of the assault charges that might come my way. Maybe he didn't remember?

"I'm sorry about the way he treated you. You didn't deserve that all." He reached his hand out and gently caressed my arm.

"He? What do you mean?"

"Oh. That little burst of anger was super helpful. When he knocked out it gave me full access to his body. You see, I've been watching you for a while now. I'm an old dance instructor here. Years ago now. Too many. I always thought dancing was for everyone no matter how you looked." He was standing oddly close and this sudden change in attitude was alarming albeit much more flattering.

"I think you may have hit your head a little hard. I'll call someone." I said, turning away. I felt him grab my hand and then pull me towards him.

"It's been so long since I've felt another person. I love a man with some meat on his bones." He was staring into my eyes as I looked down at him and I was definitely starting to tent my work pants.

"What's happening?"

"I'm dead! Well not anymore thanks to you. That's what I've been trying to say. He died and I took his place. Honestly it works out for all of us. You don't go to jail for murder, I get a new body, and the world no longer has an asshole running around. Especially packing a weapon like this." He had pulled open his shorts and was now staring inside.

"I think maybe I should go." I said. I wasn't confused anymore, maybe a little frightened.

"I think you should get to use this body just like I am going to. A nice reward for putting up with his shit. He really treated you like dirt." He looked down again, distracted momentarily by his bouncing pecs. His eyes darted to my hands and he reached out and grabbed them, cupping his bulge with my fingers. I didn't pull away, I was too enthralled with this new person.

"I think I'd like that." I said, my fingers squeezing. He enjoyed that.

"Maybe we can hang around each other. Like I said. I love a man with some meat." He reached down and grabbed my cock, but I knew he just meant me. I stumbled backwards when he pushed into me, my back hitting the mirrors. We were suddenly swept up in touching each other, his hands sliding up my shirt while my hands slide along his body. We were both admiring each other, something he probably wouldn't have done without this new entity controlling him. I definitely didn't mind, especially when his hand slipped into my pants and started squeezing my cock.

"Are you two okay?" The voice came from the door, it was a stage manager. I pushed him off the moment I heard her.

"Yeah, just clearing things up." I said. This seemed to appease her because she squinted with her thick black binder and disappeared out the door. I sighed in relief and looked at the dancer.

"What even is your name?" I asked.

"I used to be called Franklin. Last name Frick. From what I can tell my new name is Peter. I kind of like it." He flexed again.

"Well, I'm Mitch. Nice to meet you." I held out my hand. I wasn't sure why but it felt like a proper greeting.

"Oh I know. I've been watching you since you started here. I'm happy I finally get the chance to get to know you." He grabbed my hand and started pulling me out of the building. I noticed on the way way out the name of the founder of the studio, his name flashing in bold as we passed it. Franklin Frick.

[soohiefan13]

MOMOKARUN - roomies

ੈ♡˳ a continuation of my "roomies head cannons" post (if u haven't read it yet, you should totally go read it either before or after you read this bc it's fire if i may say so myself.

notes: 2.8k words. warning(s):

ੈ♡˳

music was thumping in their ears. they weren't at a party or anything. they were just in momo's new bedroom. well, not new new. momo had lived there a good three months already. with her (low-key fine) roomie.

the roomie in question was in his bedroom. no music of his own. he was mostly just involuntarily listening the fast bass line of whatever the hell momo and her friends were listening to. honestly, ken was getting a little irritated. this was his one night out of the week that he had to study and relax. every other day, he was practicing with his club or going to work. he liked living with momo, but times like these made him wish he had taken advantage of the roommate matching resources. he just sighed and grabbed his noise cancelling ear buds. if he had to listen to something, it was gonna be something he wanted to listen to.

"I don't know, girl! he's hot stuff!" muko said loudly while looking in the mirror and pulling her hair into different hairstyles. "y'all haven't ever even flirted a little?"

momo threw a pillow at her girlfriend and rolled her eyes. "dude. if you haven't noticed, he's a total nerd."

muko and miko both deadpanned and turned to momo. "girl. if you haven't noticed, that's literally your type." muko stated. then miko piped up.

"also, I don't know who you think you are! did you just forget that you two freaks are studying the same nerdy occult stuff!"

"well, yea! but he's studying aliens and all that UFO bullshit! i'm studying genuine stuff: spirits and the supernatural!" momo said proudly.

her friends deadpanned again. "right... right..."

"whatever. you two are studying- what is it again? dress up games?" she insulted.

miko whipped around. "bitch! I don't wanna hear that noise whenever you step out wearing something made by us two. and you'll look totally hot in it, too."

momo chuckled, applying a big false eyelash to top off her gyaru makeup look. all three of the girls were practicing their skills. since they were finally allowed to wear makeup out and about everyday. muko wore it anyway, but boy, did she stay in detention.

"honestly, momo. you could use more practice." muko blurted out, a plan flowering into her mind.

"um, rude! you couldn't have said that a little nicer?" momo whined, staring at her makeup in a handheld mirror and working hard to decipher what exactly she was doing wrong.

"i'm just sayin', it might help to practice on a fresh face..." muko said, raising her eyebrows at miko. momo just cocked her head to the side, confused.

miko smiled mischievously. "yea... maybe that cute roomie of yours would be up to letting you practice on his mug."

momo rolled her eyes, touching up her eyeliner. "yea right. okarun would never agree to that. he's kinda uptight."

the girls dropped their jaws. "okarun?! what the shit kinda name is that?"

momo blushed. "well, that's not his real name. it's just a nickname I gave to him since I can't stand to hear to stupid name." the girls stared at her, urging her to continue. momo sighed big and loud. "ugh! his real name is... ken takakura."

they busted out laughing, jumping on to the bed next to her. they shook her around and hit each other, trying to recover from what momo just said.

"girl, are you serious! you're living with a ken takakura and you're not asking him out already?!" muko shouted. momo shoved her hands over her mouth, afraid ken okarun would hear. "give him a chance!" she said, muffled.

"seriously, momo. don't sell yourself short. you're a cute girl and ken seems like a sweetie. start off easy. ask to do his makeup tonight."

"tonight?! but I thought you two were sleeping over..." momo pouted.

the girls grabbed their overnight bags and bedazzled phones, which had cute little charms hanging off of them. "not anymore! you've got a mission to accomplish tonight. see ya!"

and with that, the two girls left. momo was sitting on her bed, wanting so badly to scream and chase them down. but she didn't want to disturb okarun. her phone rang, causing her to jump. it was miko.

"what?!" momo grumbled loudly into her phone.

"if you don't call us back tonight with an update on how everything went down, we're totally coming back tomorrow and talking to ken takakura ourselves."

momo groaned out, slamming her phone shut and then throwing it down on her bed. it couldn't hurt to ask. the worst that could happen was that okarun would say no, then momo could go to bed. but what if he said yes? she would have to sit super close to him and touch his face a ton and stare at his super cute face. ugh! she really didn't want to do this, but at the same time... sitting close to him and touching him and staring at his super cute face didn't sound horrible. who was she kidding? it sounded perfect. momo sighed. she slowly got up and trudged into her bathroom. she spent a good ten minutes removing her makeup, washing her face, and applying some skincare products. she spent the silent time thinking about how to go about this in the least awkward way. asking wasn't super awkward, but actually doing the makeup would be. she couldn't handle his big doe eyes staring at her the whole time.

that's it! she would ask to practice eye makeup on okarun! that way, his eyes would have to be shut the majority of the time.

"alright..." momo sighed, her makeup bag in tote. "let's get this over with."

she stepped quietly through their common area and tiptoed down his hallway. she kinda hoped he was sleeping.

softly, momo knocked a few times on his door. no answer. confused, she pressed her ear against his door, and knocked again. still no answer. his lights were on so he couldn't be sleeping. was he just ignoring her on purpose? without thinking, she just pushed his bedroom door open.

there he was. laying on his bed. shirtless. of course he was shirtless. stupid muko. stupid miko. momo stared at him. he had his arm covering his eyes, a hand resting on his toned abdomen. he also had... ear buds in. seriously? momo groaned and shuffled toward him. she smacked him on the arm.

okarun jumped up. he pulled his ear bud out and sat up straight. putting his glasses back on, he looked up at momo. "hey miss ayase. did you need my help with something?"

she stood in front of him, head turned to the side and refusing to look at him. "um, no. well, yes, actually. would you be willing to let me practice some eye makeup on you? I know it's not super manly or whatever, but miko says i'll get better at it if I practice on a fresh face. it's stupid but you're the only person I could ask. those two bitches conveniently left right after making the suggesting it."

okarun took out the second ear bud and stood up, standing a little close to momo. she stiffened. "yea, sure. if it's important to you, i'd be happy to help."

"cool." momo mumbled. they stood their for a second in awkward silence. "um, could you put a shirt on real quick. i'll be waiting on the couch..."

okarun blushed and chuckled nervously. "yea... uh, sorry. i'll be a out in a jiffy."

miss ayase spun around on her heels after ken shut the door. once he was alone, he pinched the bridge of his nose, embarrassed. jiffy. what does that even mean? and why would he stand so close to this girl shirtless? he could've made her uncomfortable. that was the last thing ken wanted. they got along really well, other than the occasional argument over running shoes or stolen food. they spent a lot of time together, studying or sharing meals. sometimes it felt like the two of them were already couple in ken's mind. they did just about everything couples did, safe for the romantic stuff. of course, ken thought about the romantic stuff, more often than he'd admit. she was pretty and, despite being the most stubborn person on the planet, she was a good person to be around. she was extremely supportive and always made sure ken was taking care of himself. she would make him hearty dinners the day before he had a track meet and would stay up extra late to study with him if he was feeling academically insecure about a certain subject. and she was pretty. ken didn't realize it, but his gaze on her lingered. he adored her messy hair, the way it flicked up and the way her bangs shaped her face when she pulled her hair up. he also liked the way she dressed. very comfy and casual, but she just made it look good. she had a nice body, too. a little curvy, with long legs and a little more muscle than you'd expect. ken felt like she would fit in his hands just right-

god, ken! don't be a pervert!

he shook his head, as if he could fling the flush of pink off his cheeks. ken isn't sure if he can handle sitting so close to miss ayase. he was already getting worked up just thinking about her-

"okarun?" momo called, a little worried he fell asleep.

ken slapped himself on the face and sighed. be normal.

"sorry, I just needed to rinse my face off." he lied.

okarun plopped down next to momo. he turned the TV on and flicked through the channels until he got to their most watched channel- sci-fi. an alien invasion movie played quietly as okarun sat and waited for momo to get her makeup sorted. he watched her hands intently as she thumbed through different eye liners and brushes.

he wanted them to hold his face already.

"you ready?" momo asked.

"yes." okarun answered. he was a little quick with his response.

"alright." momo uncapped a black felt-tip eyeliner pen, giving it a small shake. her eyes flickered up to his, a small feeling of nervousness bubbling up inside of her. "try not to move too much. this would totally suck to get in your eyes."

finally, her non dominant hand cupped okarun's cheek, holding him still and positioning his head properly. she began applying it underneath his eyes. they were quiet as she mapped out a shape. then, she applied a thick line to his upper lash line. she took a moment to regain her composure since his eyes were finally closed for this part. his face was totally soft in her hands and the pout she was squeezing onto his lips was absolutely adorable. momo zoned out, staring at his cute features for about ten seconds. okarun, curious, opened his doe eyes, causing momo to snap out of it.

she snatched her hand away from his face, digging through her makeup bag to avoid eye contact.

"I didn't know you were so into makeup..." okarun said, trying to ease the awkwardness.

"uh... yea. I wanted to wear it throughout highschool, but I didn't want to go through all of the hassle of getting in trouble every other day. that was more muko's speed..." momo said, pulling out a white concealer. "look up for me."

okarun did as told as she applied the white concealer right under his eye. she fanned it with her hands so it would dry faster. he grabbed a mirror, curious to see what she was doing to him.

"this looks cool!" he encouraged. "is working on a 'fresh face' helping you?"

momo smiled at him. "yea... you're a good canvas."

they stared at each other for a moment before momo broke eye contact to grab some eye shadow. "wanna pick out your color?"

"sure. uh... how about blue?"

momo dipped into a pan of pastel blue eye shadow. he closed his eyes, and she dragged the pigment across his lids until she was satisfied. then she added some fake lashes to his top and bottom lashes and topped everything off with a little glitter. she popped the cap back on the glitter eye shadow and plopped a hand held mirror into okarun soft hands.

"what do you think?"

he looked at his reflection. "as far as I know, this looks pretty good. I don't know much about makeup but it looks nice to me. all though, when you replicate this on yourself, you should do pink instead." he paused, contemplating on whether not he should keep talking. "the pink would look good on you... just about anything looks good on you."

momo's eye widened, the eye shadow falling out of her hand and hitting the ground. okarun quickly picked it up for her.

"are you okay?"

"you think i look good?" momo asked.

okarun scratched the back of his neck, his face turning pink. "yea... i've always thought you were pretty, miss ayase."

her heart skipped a beat.

"thanks." she mumbled nervously, trying to think of something to say. "you're pretty, too."

okarun's eye widened this time, then he couldn't help but let out a laugh. momo shoved her face in her hands.

"no! I didn't mean pretty. I just meant, like-"

"any good looks of mine are thanks to you. you did me up nice." okarun smiled at her. momo blushed.

"not all of them." she admitted. "you have cute hair."

she brought her slender hand up to his head and let one of his curls wrap around her finger. okarun leaned into her touch unconsciously. she ran her fingers through his messy hair until she got to the undercut at the nape of his neck.

"i especially like this, here." her nails grazed the short hair, causing okarun to screw his eyes shut and shutter. he could sit and let her play with his hair all night. he kept his eyes closed and leaned more into her touch, his lips falling against her wrist. unconsciously, he wrapped his fingers around her arm, pulling her palm to his lips and planting a soft kiss there.

the two nerds froze. momo snatched her arm away and okarun scooted away from her entirely.

"i'm so sorry, miss ayase! I don't know why I did that." he shoved his face into his palms, muffling his speech. "I'm an awkward guy-"

"that's okay!" momo said a little louder than intended, trying to cut him off before she lost her mind. "here! there are some makeup removing wipes. i'm gonna head to bed. I'll see you in the morning. oh, um. don't forget to rinse after using these. ok. goodnight."

and with that, momo snatched up her makeup bag and scrambled into her bedroom. she tossed her bag to the side and plopped facedown onto her bed. after a moment, she dialed tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. she couldn't have those too screwing up this awkward situation any worse.

meanwhile, ken stood in his bathroom, scrubbing his eyes of the makeup. why did he do that? what was he thinking? momo could've slapped him across the face, or worse; laughed in his face! he probably made her so uncomfortable. why did he have to screw up their perfectly normal living situation.

he made sure to rinse his face off, then crept into bed. he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling as if momo's reciprocated feelings lie hidden in it. okarun liked momo. he wanted to be with her- more than roommates. he wanted them to kiss, and cuddle, and go on dates. he wanted to pay for her meals and surprise her with cool hidden talents. he wanted to see her dressed up, her hair in that ponytail he liked so much. he wanted to sleep next to her; to hold her close to him, easing her restlessness and soaking in her warmth. he wanted to wake up next to her, plant a kiss on her warm cheek and then head into the kitchen and put on her morning coffee.

but did she want any of that with him?

momo tossed her phone to the floor, still processing the events. she stared at her palm, burning a hold into the spot where okarun's lips were only a little while ago. it tingled. she wanted more. momo wanted more of okarun. she wished he would've kissed her on the lips and that they spent the night on the couch together, a stupid sci-fi movie quietly in the background. she wanted play with his hair and see the way he melted into her touch again. she wanted to go on adventures with him, make memories and share experiences with just them. she wanted to make him meals everyday and attend his track meets, so she could be the loudest one in the audience, cheering him on.

but did he want any of that with her?

duh! these two morons. as book smart as they are, you would think they'd be decent at catching a damn clue. maybe they'd figure it out in the morning.

ੈ♡˳

[pureshoney]

"well, i just think that isn't really my fault, is it? that comes down to you and your self-control… and if you don't have much, that's your problem," eyes widened with exaggerated innocence, the usual sharp glint of mischief replaced by an impossibly earnest gaze. dylan blinked slowly and deliberately like a cartoon deer while the corners of her mouth twitched with a grin. those typically calculating eyes were now comically round and sweet – a wolf in doe's clothing, regardless, as much as the blonde liked getting spanked until she couldn't sit on her ass for days, she wanted to get fucked a whole lot more so he was right in that sense, did want to turn the spanking into fucking a lot faster by positioning them in front of a mirror. "i'm sure, you fill me up so good, daddy," reaffirms with an emphatic nod of her head. "we can shove anything inside of me, whatever you want, sir …" aside from the feelings femme is so clearly developing for the male currently underneath her, one of the things she liked the most about their relationship was her ability to voice whatever nasty, depraved fantasies she had without ever feeling judged by him. "yeah baby … what?" queries as hips continue to slam down onto his, velvety walls spasming around his hard cock. "yeah? wanna take your fucking fist until i'm crying," throws her head back in pleasure. no longer able to tell where he ends and she begins, nor can she tell what part of him, fingers or cock, was stimulating that sweet gushy spot deep inside her cunt that has her squirming on top of him. doesn't even care either, all the blonde knows is that she doesn't want it to stop. the addition of her middle finger to her throbbing bud pushes her closer and closer to the edge, "it feels so fucking good, daddy." despite lids of blue hues becoming heavy, she forces her eyes to remain open and locked with his, wanting him to see the sexual gratification so clearly etched across pretty features. "yes! yes! yes!" is the only word that can leave her when answering his questions; she is so damn close, and she's holding off until keenan gives her permission to cum. a sharp needy moan bubbles out from her throat when thick digits begin scissoring inside of her, stretching her out even further. still, she could see in her man's face that he was just as close as she was. they're both too damn close for quivering knees to give up on her now. can't help but giggle when his hand pushes her own way, and instead using it for better balance when she wraps it against his thigh, aiding her in the way hips rise and drop. "i'm gonna c-cum, i can't hold it any longer," the second homme gives her approval, her cunt becomes more slippery, thighs convulsing as the most intense feeling washed over her, screaming as that earth shattering orgasm ripped through her and drawing out her orgasm even longer by still furiously pushing his cock deep inside her. can feel wetness stirring inside her, a muted gasp comes out as spurts of liquid gushed onto his stomach and no doubt creating a wet stain on the sheets underneath them.

"and would that be such a bad thing? i think we should give it a shot and see if it makes me ego bigger than yours", homme offers with a teasing grin. he could never call dylan a good girl constantly, considering how often she acted out and enjoyed being punished it simply wasn't the right label for her — she was a vixen with a twisted view on pleasure. good girls didn't soak themselves from being spanked until their cheeks turned raw. "but you'd get to see it afterwards, princess. i start spanking you in the mirror and all of a sudden it turns in to me fucking you against that mirror, it'd kind of ruin the whole punishment part of the punishment." which of course she was probably aiming for, that he'd speed up those harsh swats to her ass cheeks just so he could sink himself in to her dripping cunt or tight ass. "you sure about that, princess? cause it seems like you spent a lot of time practicing . . . does daddy's cock not fill you up enough?" hues darken as he stuffs that puffed up pussy with his fingers, entranced by the way she unravels on top of him. "the greediest fuckin' bitch, so hungry for a full cunt that you'll shove anything you can find inside yourself." gaze dips to her pussy, now she's bent back he can see the way his cock fills her tight body up, how much of a squeeze it is adding those fingers. "yeah baby . . . " it's too easy to get distracted by the filthy view he has, "we'll fist that puckered hole, i'll use my cum to lube it up and we'll train you to take my hand — nastiest little slut." if he was this turned on by the addition of his fingers alongside his cock keenan couldn't imagine how he'd feel when she got stretched enough to add an entire fucking toy too. the sounds were utterly disgusting, her slick cunt coming down on his length, his fingers pressing against his own cock as he pushes them into her spasming cunt. it was filthy and he fucking loved it. "that's it baby, rub that needy clit for daddy . . . " he could have done it himself, but he wants to savour how fucking tight his girl is around his digits, how he brushes his hand against his own cock in the process, only stimulating himself further. "gonna make a mess, huh?" he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, desperate to break free as his cock throbs and begs for release inside of her — but not yet. "gonna wet this fuckin' bed like the whore you are, dyl? gonna squirt all over daddy?" god it was such a tempting thought, his girl getting so much pleasure that she couldn't even control herself. "do it, baby. you can't promise and not deliver, can you?" hips tilt up toward her ever moving body, shoving his rock hard cock into her clamping heat. she needs it just as much as he does. so damn close to the edge, yet he'll wait for her. "nasty fuckin' bitch, so damn easy for sir aren't you? a high class corner slut." fingers forcefully scissor inside her, grunting from the way her arousal coats his hand and dribbles down to his balls. he can't hold on for much longer, so keenan impatiently pushes her own hand aside, thumb moving to stroke and circle that sensitive bundle of nerves. "scream for daddy, dyl. wreck that throat just like i'm ruining your cunt right now."

[kamorth]

Just as an intro, yes this post reads VERY white. Unfortunately a lot of recent history is only accessible through white lenses and as I myself am about as white as it is possible to be, I don't have another viewpoint that I can write from with any kind of authority. My lack of experience does not negate anyone else's experiences or views.

In the 80s, being punk was how you showed disdain for conformity. NO, I DON'T Want to be Like You THE WOLRD IS SHITTY AND I AM ANGRY. They were the trash that you warned your kids to stay away from because they were dangerous and violent.

Grunge quickly followed suit with Yeah the world is shitty why do what the boring conformist bougies tell you when you can just do your own thing over here instead. They were the trash you hoped your kids got sick of but the worst parents ever suspected of them was maybe a bit of weed and some clumsy make outs, not that big a deal.

In the late 90s (my teens) it was goths. We are so sick of you and your church and shoving it down my throat with pushing for prayer in schools and Christian Pop Rock all over the billboard top 40. That kid is a witch now and You JUST Don't Get It. Depression is my baseline and the idea of being like you is the cause. We were the trash that were just indulging in a phase and would grow out of it, so we could be humored but mostly ignored (unless your parents were hard core Bible bashers, in which case you would get sent to something akin to conversion therapy - since you were also probably Queer it often was just outright conversion therapy).

Then the emos showed up and people started getting annoyed, partly because suddenly there were goths that you COULDN'T ignore for two reasons, they were LOUD about being sad and THERE WERE SO MANY OF THEM. Since they couldn't be ignored out of existence, the Western world decided to collectively bully them instead. They were the trash that was Just So Damn Cringe!

And now poverty is skyrocketing. Homelessness is a plague that has struck so many people who have committed no crime outside of bad luck. Actual fascists are in positions of power. Planned obsolescence and decades of lobbying by the oil industry in favour of petrol and plastics is destroying everything beautiful about this planet.

And Punk is back. Be ANGRY at your politicians who don't listen. Let your anger be heard so that they know you will not accept these ideas. Grunge is back. It doesn't have to be new, it just has to be functional. Work together to make a community you WANT to live in. Goth is back. Mourn for the world we were promised but never saw. Learn about belief systems that are different to the one you were raised in, ESPECIALLY if doing so pisses off your parents. Emo is back. Fuck haters. Cringe is dead. Being comfortable in your own skin means being allowed to do what YOU want, not having to exist for the benefit of someone else.

Before us it was hippies and beatniks and flappers and dadaists and before them there were the coffee shop philosophers and the point is there have ALWAYS been people who want the world to see its own flaws and fix them. I know other cultures had the same sorts of groups, like the Japanese Subekan gangs (who created the original lolita fashion trend as a way to take femininity back from being sexualized) and Islamic Sufism (an Islamic sect who practice things forbidden by stricter groups, such as singing and dancing) but I'm an armchair scholar, not an expert.

When society is broken, our numbers surge.

We are surging.

Society needs us.

[yangzhouman]

CLOUD STRIFE and the YAOI IDENTITY

[note: this is my slightly-edited submission to yaoi zine vol. 1: what was the yaoi that changed your life? organised by our beloved @tshirt3000. it’s 81 pages of nostalgia, poignancy, and really fucking amazing creativity, all about yaoi. i wrote about FF7, and the zine ranges from arthurian legend to currently-publishing webtoons and all the way back. it’s a real labour of love! and it kicks ass! please check it out here!]

what’s gayer than absorbing the identity of another man? doing it twice. i’m talking about cloud strife from FFVII, a yaoi icon who has carried fujoshi gamers on his shoulders for nearly three decades. i owe everything to him, and i’m sure my highschool friends wish his pointy polygon form hadn’t plagued my mind for all these years. sorry girls.

pretty much everything about cloud is yaoi, from his design to his character to his story. did you know the designers deliberately made him “less masculine” so that he could better rival sephiroth? direct quote. until this week, i didn’t — he was meant to have smooth black hair, but was given his defining blond spikes instead. sephiroth, with his long hair and his long sword, exists in deliberate, calculated comparison. it’s easy pickings for people looking for yaoi in a classic contrasting uke/seme dynamic.

but the previous design of smooth black hair and less ambiguous masculinity, now a contrast to cloud, still exists. it went to zack fair, who is notable as the first man that cloud absorbs. he’s the origin of it all in the truest sense: let’s begin with him. 

ZACK FAIR

the most important thing about zack is that he’s dead. it gets weird from here, because every time we see cloud, we see zack — in this sense, he is entirely defined by his connection to cloud, and by how cloud keeps makes space for him even when he really, really shouldn’t.

see, cloud believes he is zack. this is psychological and somatic: for a long time, cloud thinks that he is a soldier working for the megacorporation that runs the planet. but he isn’t. this identity actually belongs to zack fair, who truly was a soldier, and who died protecting cloud from that megacorporation. 

zack died for cloud. cloud becomes zack. this confusion of identity is borne both as a trauma defence and a grief response: cloud believes he is zack so thoroughly that he forgets zack exists, thereby removing that horrific memory from his mind while paradoxically ensuring that his friend is not lost forever. zack is safe within cloud. here he cannot be hurt. 

and cloud’s absorption of zack is total, taking on his mannerisms, his sword, even his skills and relationships. his style of fighting, his attitude to the world — everything. in doing so, zack fair lives on; it’s not zack who died, not if he is standing right here in a different skin.

i struggle to think of something more yaoi than subsuming another man into your being, other than gay sex. nothing says that zack and cloud don’t have gay sex, but it’s unlikely, as cloud is catatonic for a long time — it’s the reason why zack dies, protecting his vulnerable friend. the lack of physicality between zack and cloud works nicely though. there’s a desperation around cloud’s actions here, an unreasonable response to grief/loss/love that speaks of unfulfillment. zack and cloud’s relationship is all about uncrossable distances, and reaching across anyway. there is little response between the two: they can never reply to each other, only assume permission and act in the way they think the other would want. the other’s existence becomes cerebral, established in thought-space rather than physical-space. and the result is a loneliness so desperate it destroys. zack was as lonely as cloud; zack mythologised cloud too, dreaming of delivering him to safety so intensely that he gave his life to this fantasy.

cloud feels immense shame about his inability to save zack, and later on when he realises what he has done, shame about how he has treated zack’s memory. but i think there’s something here about cloud’s respect and love for someone who took care of him. zack is physically and emotionally stronger, openly affectionate and protective. by taking zack on as a mantle, cloud stays safe. by becoming his own protector, cloud embodies zack more truly than zack himself could manage. he understands what it is that zack truly dreamed of, and gives him another chance to be a hero. 

what i’m saying is: cloud did what zack wanted, though maybe in a more extreme form than he had imagined. i don’t even need the authorial stamp of approval, but i have it anyway — in the movie sequel ADVENT CHILDREN, zack appears in ghost form to support a struggling cloud. and his support is simply to ask cloud to repeat the final words that zack ever said to him, knowing that cloud will understand: “you’ll be my living legacy”. 

these words are imprinted on cloud’s yaoi identity. zack totally meant it as a wish for cloud to survive, but i love the weight of burden here: it sounds like something an overbearing parent would say. cloud subconsciously shapes himself around it. and i can’t ignore how it calls to trauma theory of living legacies, too, though i’m sure square enix didn’t mean to express the theory so textually. here trauma is not solely marked by scars, but by the emotions and behaviours that a person experiences afterwards, which grow and take life of their own. it’s about carrying your trauma around with you, and having it change you physically. as janina fisher tells us, trauma manifests in a person’s life beyond the event as “fear, shame, anger … startling, impulses to run or hide or fight, even against one’s own body”. zack had carried cloud’s body around with him, and the weight of it encouraged him onward to his death; cloud truly was his living legacy in that sense. but zack positions himself as cloud’s living legacy, which cloud’s body must carry not as a physical weight, but as emotion and behaviour that cloud cannot help but follow through. this kind of intense doubling-back and doubling-down is the kind of stuff that makes fujoshis crazy, by the way.

this fucked me up for years. i have always loved stories where important characters are already dead: it’s a style of writing that really impresses me, and i enjoy what it does to the remaining characters who have to live with that hole, or in cloud’s case, in that hole. the fact that cloud fills his hole with zack, and also himself, is so twisty and fun. forgetting and becoming a dead guy is fucked up — absorbing the man who died for you is fucked up. but i think zack would have been ok with it. and what’s better than two guys aligning in their fucked up views?

this brings us to sephiroth.

SEPHIROTH

if sephiroth had his way, cloud would also be his living legacy. he’s the most famous villain in FFVII, driven crazy by his mommy trauma and god complex, and cloud becomes his enemy because he keeps thwarting his plan to destroy the planet. he’s also the other half of sefikura, one of the most enduring and epic ships in the yaoi world. cloud has earned his place as a yaoi icon, and sephiroth is on the podium with him.

during FFVII, cloud pursues sephiroth. this is more than just plot — square enix built this dynamic into the game itself, and it was a resounding success within the industry and the genre. this pursuit mechanic involves looping back around the world map to find this villain in previously-explored locations. by updating the map with sephiroth’s presence, we get to feel his omni-presence in cloud’s mind. the pressure that sephiroth exerts upon cloud to think of him becomes more discernible, and more complex, in sephiroth’s response to being hunted by the protagonist: which is to remove any thoughts that are not of him. he turns cloud into his puppet — he forces his way into cloud’s mind on a psychic level, and imposes his own will onto him. chasing sephiroth makes cloud vulnerable; but he must keep chasing the bad guy. he must knowingly open himself to sephiroth because that is his role in the game; and we as the gamer behind him are pushing him onwards, making him dance on those strings again and again so that we reach the ending. becoming implicit in the roles of martyr and murderer is a heady rush that speaks to the success of sefikura in FFVII. we yaoify cloud. how fun is that?

here’s a quote from cloud: “i wasn't pursuing sephiroth... i was being summoned by sephiroth”. he’s being literal here. sephiroth is deliberately drawing cloud closer, forcing him to follow and find him, because he wants to, um, ‘form reunion’ with him. this is also literal. sephiroth wants cloud to be with him, but more importantly, he wants cloud to be him — to obey his commands, to align with his views, to be in total sync with what sephiroth thinks and feels. this part of their relationship is all about sephiroth: narcissistic to the bone, sephiroth’s obsession with cloud is rooted in how cloud continually pulls away from his call and rejects him.

cloud is meant to be sephiroth’s vessel, by the way. not immediately obvious, especially with the care that the designers took to make their visual appearances contrast. but it’s a really fun plot twist, and one that puts cloud’s identity crises into sharp focus. sephiroth’s identity has been forced onto cloud through medical trauma, with his dna inserted physically into cloud’s body, which turns his mental and verbal objections into something of a painful joke. he doesn’t want to be sephiroth. sephiroth sucks, and keeps killing his friends. but cloud’s body betrays itself, betrays him and keeps him from feeling secure in his own identity. there’s no part of him that he can cut out to get rid of sephiroth; and even after sephiroth is dead, cloud feels him. sephiroth is still in him. whose body is it, anyway?

i’ve made sefikura sound fucked up, and it is, kinda. but it’s easy to understand the hold that it’s had on fujoshi gamers. cloud doesn’t go quietly. sephiroth’s oppressive manipulation is what ignites cloud’s will to fight back. 

sephiroth’s insistence that he is the original, and cloud a copy who must submit, is the kind of crazy that appeals to me more now that i’ve come to terms with my leo sun star sign. i suppose it’s visually similar to how zack and cloud had existed, but in practice it is a more dynamic and charged relationship. like his mother before him, sephiroth is a virus: iterative, defined through the suppression of others and the subsequent displacement with himself. he exists only in this state of violence — is made real through it — and he doesn’t want to live in any other way. as derrida puts it, “as soon as there is the One, there is murder, wounding, traumatism. L’Un se garde de l’autre. The One guards against/keeps some of the Other. It protects itself from the Other… The One makes itself violence.”

sorry for putting french in front of you. this aptly describes and complicates sefikura, because actually, it’s cloud finding himself in that abjection of sephiroth. who is he? not sephiroth’s copy; not sephiroth. he is as much a One as he is an Other, and makes himself more of both as he rejects sephiroth. in that rejection he provokes sephiroth again, who must respond. it’s an equal relationship only through its dynamism, in the constant flux and flow of violence that they put each other through. there’s no real hope of reconciliation between them — they are on guard, always conscious of the power they hold over each other. it’s sustainable only if the two of them live forever, and cloud is the protagonist. eventually sephiroth loses.

sephiroth is measurably more yaoi than zack, by the way. zack has a girlfriend, for all that his character is defined by his homoerotic death scene. sephiroth has an obsession with cloud that follows him into the grave and beyond. in ADVENT CHILDREN, sephiroth somehow manifests into physical fragments in an attempt to resurrect himself — and when he does, he runs to fight cloud. (cloud fights alongside his friends, but always ends his fights with sephiroth alone: their relationship is unique.) it’s here that we get sephiroth’s yaoi line: “i will never be a memory”. once again, it’s the final words that cloud hears before sephiroth dies (again, and hopefully more permanently this time). 

i kinda like it more than “you’ll be my living legacy”. i think it’s more comically connected to living trauma theory: yes, sephiroth is in his nightmares, but he does keep physically appearing to haunt him. it ties in well with sephiroth’s narcissism, but also his place in the wider story as a lapsed war hero that cloud had, at one point, idolised. as a young boy, cloud had looked up to sephiroth and tried to emulate him; cloud had joined the army to be like sephiroth. in a way, sephiroth is more of the origin to cloud’s story than zack is. sephiroth’s fall from grace is something a lot of sefikura fans tap into, recognising the toxicity of that connection. all yaoi should have a healthy dose of painful, hilarious irony. 

i also like how in plain text it seems… relatively mundane? not normal, and definitely terrifying to a man recovering from his protagonist status. but also a little bit like sephiroth is cloud’s crazy ex who just can’t accept the breakup. that does trump zack’s parenting line for me. 

anyway, with sephiroth in place, cloud moves from a fujoshi’s delight to a fujoshi’s icon. it’s in sefikura that we see cloud at his most fierce and dynamic, which is hugely appealing. i think the stakes add rather than detract here, and the pain of finding yourself in/with a man who keeps killing your friends is very thrilling. as true rivals, sephiroth gets to transgress some of the barriers that kept zack from cloud through sheer force of villainy, and the intense mirroring between them is revitalising for cloud. sephiroth gives cloud purpose, defining him as an individual again — a One. that’s yaoi.

CLOUD STRIFE AGAIN

the thing is, i’m not sure cloud wants to be a One. not in the sense that sephiroth means it, anyway. cloud’s identity is a fractured thing, broken up by amnesia and survivor’s guilt and the burden of being a protagonist, but it’s deliberate. it’s a defence mechanism, as fredric jameson puts it, against the eroding currents of life that cloud must continue to run through. a poignant image for a broken midgar, and a textual experience, rather than theoretical, for cloud. yet his healing is not to discard parts that do not resemble cloud-before-the-game, but to try and make amends with what’s left — or rather, what’s there. the final third of the game is cathartic for cloud’s identity, when he reconciles the two truths of being neither zack fair or sephiroth. so, what happened to cloud? is he still there; if so, how does he find that part of himself again? or does he throw it all away and start again? no; cloud refuses to live in rejection any longer. he cannot exist parcelled away in the spaces between people, butting up against their edges. instead he starts to acknowledge and appreciate how they touch him. he is made through the interactions of their identities against, and with, his. cloud has always been there. 

in this way, i think he is yaoi. writing from the perspective of his ship halves makes him appear reflective rather than transformative, but in truth he absorbs. he is a space for other characters to go through (i am calling him a hole) and in doing so, those characters are different. it’s in that type of connection that cloud finds his identity, and i find that really beautiful. deleuze and guattari talk about how a fragmented identity shows an unfettered desire that is rooted in the current of life, and who craves life more than someone who keeps being denied it? refusing to cohere to a single, impenetrable ego is a choice, and it’s one that shows a determination to experience the present whilst not letting go of the past. it’s too hard to be done accidentally, and especially to do it twice. cloud’s showing us something here. 

he’s my favourite kind of protagonist, really. cloud resists the archetype of a lone(ly) soldier trudging on, because he keeps seeking out connection, be it for love or security or purpose. it is only in experiencing relationships that cloud can begin to make sense of his life. he can’t exist on his own. he needs to know someone, and they need to know him. 

and that, to me, is yaoi.

[now read yaoi zine!!!!]

[mizumuu]

>Laughs Out Loud

I thought that piece was just about people focusing too hard on labelling Mizuki instead of letting them be themselves like they ask, not that it was transphobia ._ .

its ok to have ur own interpretation of that piece but its very clear to me that that wasnt ame's intention

[wolfvsh]

How could she have looked into those eyes and said no? A single taste of that soothing green mixed with her own, and all the walls she had constructed around herself were ready to crumble, like cookies crushed in a toddler’s eager fist. So, of course, her answer to his invitation—the one she practically twisted his arm into making (it sure felt that way)—was an eager, lovesick nod of her head. Doomed from the start. Tough, weak creature. Funny, wasn’t it? How the lights coloring their path would’ve served as a beautiful backdrop if things were different: if she weren’t so emotionally unskilled, if she hadn’t clawed him out of her life with the desperation of a rabid dog trying to spare its owner from heartbreak, if he had chosen her from the start… If he had chosen her. The thought was so repulsive it silenced her for the rest of the walk (an unprecedented occurrence), her hands shoved deep in her pockets to avoid the slightest graze against his. Thief. If, if, if. The thoughts kept nibbling and nibbling, relentless little pests. She excused herself the moment they stepped into The Salty Bear, nearly sprinting to the bathroom. Girt stared at her reflection in the grimy mirror—eyeshadow smudged, lipstick more stain than anything, hair doing its own unholy thing. She gave her head a single, violent shake, hoping to dislodge the cursed mantra. Useless. When that didn’t work, her hand dove into the tin box she always kept on her, pulling out two flat little pills that definitely didn’t resemble mints. Maybe some colorful courage would do the trick. Girty dropped onto the sticky booth, snorting instead of wincing when her knee collided with the table, a casualty of her careless movements. “Ouchpiece'ashit—” She muttered, but with renewed zeal, she rested her chin on her palm and turned to August. “Waiter take care of you already? Or am I gonna have to work my wiiiicked magic?” She widened her eyes, waving her free hand’s fingers right in front of his face, accidentally nudging his nose, a spark running up her arm. Yes, tonight could be normal. She would have a drink (more if she was lucky), shoot the shit, and scatter back to her dark and cozy corner of the universe — where she belonged.

August couldn't hide the surprise on his face when she grabbed his arm — even if he tried, he was sure she'd see right through him. She had a way of doing that, like she was looking right into the hollow, rotten center of him past all the things he tried to bury it under, past every single wall he'd spent his whole life building. And maybe the worst part of it all was how bad he wanted to let her, something he was sure was written all over his face when his eyes moved from her hand on his arm back up to meet her gaze. She knew him in ways no one else ever did, would, could. Despite everything, that hadn't changed. "Well you know cold's never done me any favors," he said. He was the type to have cold hands even on the hottest and stickiest day of summer, like there just wasn't quite enough blood in his veins to go around. He guessed it made sense, in a lot of ways. The walking dead boy who couldn't seem to hang onto anything while it was still alive, no matter how hard he tried. He was pretty sure between the two of them, if anyone was a zombie, it was him. "And neither has this fuckin' festival, so... Somewhere warmer sounds good. A drink sounds even better. I mean — if you want me to get you one." It came out sounding hopeful, almost painfully so, but he couldn't help that, either. When Girty had started distancing herself, he'd never wanted to force his company on her if it wasn't what she wanted, and he really did get why she might not. But he'd felt sick over it constantly, and he couldn't help but hope that maybe one day she'd decide she wanted him around again after all. He doubted this change in heart was going to last more than the night — hell, it might not even last more than the drink he was about to buy her — but even being given this much had felt like too much to hope for, and he thought it was enough to sustain him for at least a little while longer.

[belog-grada-crna-princeza]

Words, words, words...

Sorry I'm not some kind of emotional exhibitionist. I don't show all my cards and even if I did, you wouldn't understand. I thought I was hiding but I don't hide. I am simply invisible to the naked eye, you see. I am confusing even to myself. According to you, I'm vague, abstract; you say I am passive, I let things happen to me. And it hurts because I find some truth in that, but also you don't know shit about me. I don't show my teeth to you because I don't want to give you the power to provoke that in me. And yet, in your eyes it makes me powerless. I had built a tower and locked myself there. They said I had become cold, distant, that I had to give people a chance, at least. So, I knocked down the bricks and as I stood there, defenseless, I realized: this isn't it either. This is no way to live. Maybe next time I'll build a lego house, so I can build it up and tear it down as needed. But I will always keep some things hidden, even in my art. What people can't touch, they can't taint. Don't let me be misunderstood as the song says, but then again, I like being wrongly perceived sometimes. You know nothing about me and I prefer to put up a mirror in your face. I'm of no concern to you, let's put it that way. I dream of someone who I will pull to this side of the glass. I dream of someone who will have the keys to the tower and who will realize why I love it here so much. It's not that I'm trying to keep the world out, as much as I'm trying to have something that is only mine in it. And maybe, I'll share it with someone some day. Or at least, a part of it. Until then, I'll stay cryptic. In a weird way, I like it that you're wrong about me. It soothes me, knowing you haven't trapped any part of me in your mind. Keep cutting your fingers with the glass. It's your reflection that you can't stand. It's always your reflection.

-Katarina

[greenvertumna]

Look I can’t say I love Loki x Sylvie but honestly I am getting a kick out of imagining the field day Thor would have knowing his brother fell in love with himself.

[mymarifae]

ok so like. unironically i think disliking any of the girls in project sekai is a major red flag ESPECIALLY when people say they don’t like the girls but “ stan ” akito/toya/rui/tsukasa. but can i be honest. at this point disliking any of the characters at all is a red flag. in my brain. i know everyone has their preferences but it’s just... these are all well-rounded, very complex characters. when someone calls any of them “annoying” or “boring” or “mean” it just immediately tells me that they didn’t read the damn stories. or they read the main stories and skimmed maybe half of the event stories. because adjectives like Annoying, Boring, and Mean are the most superficial conclusions you can come to about a character, and if you finished reading the text you’d see that they quite literally do not apply to prsk’s main cast. ok well maybe annoying i will concede on that one a tiny bit but they’re teenagers. maybe don’t play a game about teenagers if you aren’t prepared to be annoyed/subjected to secondhand embarrassment sometimes

like. oh you hate akito? 🤨 why. what part of the text led you to the conclusion that he’s an unlikable character. what did you read. tell me. if you say anything about the way he talked to kohane in the main story you’re going to be in big trouble

[dirt-str1der]

Kiryu would literally hate meeting any alternate version of himself like he spends all his time pretending like his body doesnt exist in the third dimension , if he sees a doppelganger he would be like oh ha ha another copycat and then when he realises no. Thats literally another instance of himself he would get so scared and when he gets scared he gets pissed off and he would be unable to stand this other him