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pretzel-box · 1 month

Note

I really love reading your works!! Could you write something with Sebastian and a plus sized reader? :}

A little pick-me-up

Words: 1,1k

Tags: Plus-Sized/Chubby reader, reader gets bullied for a short moment, positive affirmations from Sebastian

Authors note: I feel like Sebastian is insecure about his looks and will definitely stand up if someone gets bullied for their appearance.

Sebastian had never been one for company. In the depths of the Hadal Blackside, solitude was often a blessing rather than a curse. But today, as he sorted some of the newly recieved data in his shop, his mind started preoccupied itself with the latest group of recruits sent down to this watery hell. Urbanshade's current victims by avoiding prison time by jumping straight into their death.

The sound of muffled voices reached his ears, a mixture of cruel laughter and low, taunting whispers. He tiled his head and saw them coming out of the vent: a group of three, clad in the standard-issue diving suits, mocking you who was visibly uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly under their jeers.

"Maybe if you stopped stuffing your face, you wouldn't have to squeeze into that vent," one of the voices sneered, the words dripping with malice.

"Yeah, it's like you're taking up all the space and getting us stuck," another chimed in, their laughter echoing off the metal walls.

The target of their bullying—a chubby figure, their diving suit snug but by no means too tight—stood there, visibly shrinking under the barrage of insults. In other words, you. Your head was lowered, trying to keep their composure, but Sebastian could see the way your hands clenched into fists, the way your shoulders hunched as if trying to make yourself smaller.

Something snapped inside him. Maybe it was the memories of his own mistreatment, the endless experiments and dehumanization, or maybe it was just the sheer injustice of it all. But before he even realized what he was doing, he was moving toward them, his long tail scraping against the floor, the low rumble of his approach silencing the laughter.

The bullies looked up, their expressions shifting from amusement to confusion, and then to fear as they recognized who was bearing down on them.

"If I were you, I would shut up," Sebastian growled, his voice low and dangerous, the tone leaving no room for argument.

The leader of the group tried to stammer out some sort of excuse, but Sebastian wasn't interested in hearing it. His eyes narrowed, and the bullies took a step back, their bravado crumbling under the weight of his glare. Without another word, they turned and scurried away, their retreat almost comical in its haste. Instead they rushed to grab the keycard and went back into the darkness of the vent.

Once they were gone, Sebastian turned his attention to the person they had been tormenting. You were still standing there, shoulders tense, clearly bracing yourself for whatever might come next. But Sebastian wasn't like the others.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice softer now even when he kept his usual stoic face, the edge gone.

You looked up, your eyes wide with surprise. Then you nodded, though it was clear that the encounter had rattled you.

„Y-Yeah... thanks," you mumbled, your voice small but sincere.

Sebastian could see the pain in your eyes, the way you were trying to hide how much the words had hurt. It was a look he knew all too well—one of vulnerability, of being made to feel less than what you were.

"Don't let them get to you," he said, his tone firm but gentle. "People like that... they're the ones with the real problems. You don’t owe them anything."

You looked at him, studying his face as if searching for any sign of mockery or hidden intent. But all you found was honesty, and maybe a little bit of understanding.

"Thanks," you repeated, a little stronger this time. "I guess... I just wasn’t expecting that."

Sebastian nodded, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of you. He could see the strength it took for you to stand there, to not crumble under the weight of your teammates’ cruelty. It reminded him of his own battles, the way he had been broken down and yet somehow still found a way to keep going.

"People here can be cruel," he said, his voice low. "But that doesn’t mean you have to let them define you. You’re more than what they say, more than what they think."

For a moment, there was silence between you, the oppressive atmosphere of the Hadal Blackside lifting just a little. Then, you nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Thanks, Sebastian," you said, your voice steady.

He gave a small nod, and for the first time in a long while, Sebastian felt a sense of camaraderie, of connection with someone else in this forsaken place.

"It’s… it’s not easy, but I guess you just have to keep moving forward, right?"

"Yeah," Sebastian agreed, nodding a little too quickly. "That’s right. But, uh… there’s something else I wanted to say." He paused, fidgeting with the belts around his chest with his large hands, his fluorescent eyes flicking to you and then away again. "I know it’s not easy to hear stuff like what they said. But… I just want you to know that… well, I think you’re…"

He trailed off, his cheeks darkening as he struggled to find the words. The usually stoic and composed Sebastian was visibly flustered, and it was clear that he was venturing into unfamiliar territory.

"I think you’re perfect just the way you are," he finally blurted out, his voice softer, more earnest. "Your size, I mean… it suits you. You’re… you’re strong, and you’re real. And… I like that."

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden confession. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was nervously fiddling with the item in his hands, clearly out of his element. It wasn’t often that someone like Sebastian, someone who had seen so much darkness, would say something so vulnerable, so genuine.

"Sebastian," you started, your voice barely above a whisper, "thank you. That… that means a lot."

Sebastian looked down at you, his expression a mix of relief and embarrassment. "I’m not good with words," he mumbled, glancing away again. "But I just wanted you to know… you don’t have to change anything about yourself. Not for them. Not for anyone."

You smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made something in Sebastian’s chest tighten. "I won’t," you said, your voice steady. "And… thanks, really. It’s nice to hear that from someone who… who actually sees me."

The tension in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a comfortable silence. Sebastian, still a little flustered, busied himself with rearranging a few items on the table next to him, trying to act like he hadn’t just said something so out of character.

But there was no denying the shift in the atmosphere. The connection between them, once tentative and fragile, had grown a little stronger. And as they spent the rest of the time together in the shop, it was clear that, for the first time in a long while, neither of them felt quite so alone.

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace fanfic #roblox pressure

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tinycozycomfort · 1 year

Text

trust fall

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day two of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: fluid exchange -> read her day two here

summary: This, that was a shy thing at first, set into motion by some passing remark you’d made all those months ago—that he would do anything for you if you just asked nice enough.

warnings/tags: pwp!, fluid exchange (come eating/spitting), oral sex (f receiving), anal play, dirty talk, mention of unprotected piv, dom/sub dynamics, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), praise kink, edging

word count: 1.6k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: arguably the filthiest thing i've ever written (nervous) but wow was it great practice. thank you for reading!

main masterlist

“What a mess. Who’s gonna clean all this up, sweetheart?”

He’s thumbing at the crease of your thigh where it folds into your core, pulling against the bend so that your seam widens. You can feel him looking, each cool swing of his breath fanning over the heat at your center. The slow trickle of where he leaks out of you makes your skin tighten, shrinking uncomfortably over muscle in little welts.

Joel doesn’t take well to your lack of focus, choosing to demand your attention instead; the press of his thumb turns harder, meeting the end of his pointer to pinch. The pain is instant, but the delay from your haze makes you skip a yelp all together, straight to words like he wants.

“I’ll clean myself.”

He hums, releasing your flesh, petting the wound where it thrums, “Now how can you reach all the way down here?”

You know this game well—where he means to reduce you to less than incapable, framing it like you’ve lost your way after what he’s just done to you. He wants to act like he can help you, when in reality it’s done to service himself, only further fueling his need to be in control—a role that toes the line between offender and caretaker. He aches to relinquish you of every responsibility, even that of thought.

Joel swipes at the come that refuses to let up where it’s dripping out, making a slow show—one that only he can see and only you can feel—of gathering and pooling and reinserting it, just to watch it slip out again.

“I-I don’t know. But I need to get clean.”

He’s smiling something horrible, eyes shining when you gaze down to plead your case for assistance.

“Oh, poor thing, I know. It’s not your fault,” he dips his thumb into you before trailing up just under the bead of skin above your opening, “There’s just so much. But you’re right, we can’t have you ruining the sheets.” Joel bares his teeth again when you hiss, narrowly missing your clit when you try to maneuver your way into his hand.

You pant, barely able to piece together your cue, “How?”

“Hard to think after the way I fucked you, hm?” He brushes his free hand across the hill of your cheek, pitiful, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “I guess I could help you, sweetheart. Do you want that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, please.”

“There she goes. My polite girl. Same one who begged for all this mess in the first place—isn’t that right?”

You can’t bear to try and find the words, just letting your head loll to the side so you can nod without the pain of keeping your neck straight. He’s unraveling your grip thread by thread so you can become the soft, helpless thing he needs you to be.

He shoves himself down, ducks his head to be level with your cunt, the hot vent of air around his face bleeding onto you. He’s worked up—you know it from the delicate shudder in his hands, the uneven half-steps in his breathing—and while he swears he can’t, you wish he’d fuck you again. You wriggle, back flat to the bed and knees spreading instinctively.

Joel starts at the slip of skin separating your cunt from what sits beneath it, careful to catch what he couldn’t collect on the last sweep. His mouth is warm and his tongue gentle, but the breath it punches out of you is hard—furious.

You’re humming high in your throat, past the point of well-mannered, and he’s delighted, slipping the muscle between his lips inside of you, tilting his head just enough so that his nose can’t touch where you’re throbbing for him most.

You beg, “Joel. Joel, please,” rolling the knobs of your spine forcefully enough to sting, trying uselessly to make contact. He huffs, forearm mashing haphazardly against the curve of your hip, flustered.

“You don’t need it, honey. Now keep still.”

You’re full-on whining now, little pieces of sound, reedy and loud and not enough to make him feel bad, apparently.

He nestles himself back in, the wide flat of his tongue pressing hard enough to breach your hole, spooning out everything you saved for him inside you and you start to seethe, a thin film of sweat breaking out across your chest—boiling.

The hand you haven’t felt in a while returns to a different place, the tips of his pointer and middle brushing under where he’s eating you, the hole there wet with whatever continues to evade his mouth.

He circles it and you fidget, begging him for anything more, the slow working of his jaw not enough to bring you to the edge.

There’s the other half of the game—if you can’t come before he’s deemed you clean, you don’t get to at all.

A sticky curl of love swells in your belly at how familiar you are now with this routine, how far he’s come—peeling away enough of his distance to show his face, to bring you to this. This, that was a shy thing at first, set into motion by some passing remark you’d made all those months ago—that he would do anything for you if you just asked nicely enough.

Joel’s uncovered desire to see you need him, beg for him, just to make him relent in your favor, was intoxicating. In turn, he continues to make it harder every time for you both, upping the stakes after you barely manage to satisfy his last demand; narrow wins that remind you of just how much power he holds. Always sweet and comforting and protecting, even if from the severity of himself.

Your stomach clenches, trying frantically to pace your breaths, to focus on the feeling of every too-long pass that has him nudging the underside of your clit, the way his fingers tease against your asshole. He hums in warning, almost done, and you knock a fist against the bed in frustration.

He pulls away suddenly and your shoulders cave, upset by his unwarned finish, and you’re ready to apologize within an inch of your life when he pipes up.

“Am I not enough for you, honey? You liked my cock, plenty. Why can’t you do it for my mouth, too?”

“Joel. Joel, you are—you’re enough. I just– right now I need more.”

“No, you don’t. And I’m not going to tell you again. Now—” he uses the hand not already playing with you to dig into the meat of your thigh, nails drawn, maybe a little upset by how many words you’ve managed despite his ministrations, “Make me happy.”

He sways low again, the return of his mouth against-underneath-inside of you making your hands curl, a warm buzz floating up through your legs and forearms to meet together in the middle. He’s fervent, determined to prove you wrong now that you’ve challenged his ability and you’re squealing, so light-headed from the effort to breathe that you’re close to stopping all together.

Joel feeds his lip between his teeth against you reflexively, like he’s trying to hold himself back for a moment, and the idea that he’s gearing up for a long night makes you heave.

He tries to hide his tell, taking the quickest pause to spit onto his fingers, prodding at your asshole to divert your attention, hardly sliding in as to not give you more than you’ve earned, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, now. Haven’t worked for much of anything yet.”

“But–”

“Show me you can be good, first. Shouldn’t be so hard for you, honey, c’mon.” He inches closer once more, breathing out against you, alternating between little puffs of cold exhales and firm pants of hot air.

You writhe, so pent up you feel restricted by your own body, like climbing out from a pool fully-clothed—heavy and sopping and always tipping back with resistance. Your face is on fire, fingers twisting to try and take the brunt of your need to move.

Joel is ecstatic—you can hear the wet slide of his grin—and you’re right at the cusp of giving in when he breaks the gap, hot mouth latching onto your clit and you’re gone. You can feel it spread the length of your core first, filling out quickly to everywhere else and you jolt, legs snapping together fast enough that your knees knock above his head.

He repositions his hands, squeezing between them to pry you open. You wedge a wrist behind you, trying to lift yourself in an effort to stop him but when you peer down, the look on his face is serene, pleading. An exercise in trust maybe—that he’s acquainted enough with your body to know your limit.

You let yourself rest again and inhale deep, letting him work you down to a stop, the feeling of overstimulation falling into a wash of fuzzy static . Only after you unfold does Joel remove himself, pressing light kisses to the peak of your hip bone on his way up—proud.

He leans over your torso, his chest parallel, the damp rub of your skin setting your heart off as you breathe in tandem. Selfishly, you scrabble a bit, wanting desperately to have more claim on his body.

“Hey, hey. Shh. No need to do all that. I’m right here for you.” Joel gathers up your palm between his fingers, sliding your limp knuckles over his cheeks, the little curve of his lip. A moment passes and you reclaim ownership of it, caressing the underside of his jaw faintly.

“Was I good?” you whisper.

“So good. See, I knew you could do it.”

He nudges at the band of rib under your breast, “Maybe even a little too good—looking very empty now, sweetheart. What do you think we oughta do about that?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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writingforstraykids · 3 months

Text

Ready, pretty?

Pairing: Minchan

Word Count: 2564

Summary: One night, after sharing a few drinks, Minho feels safe enough to overshare a little, thinking Chan is too drunk to remember the next day. He doesn't know that Chan remembers every word and is more than willing to help him with his little issue.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, late-night confessions, drunk confessions, friends to lovers (sort of), virgin!min, first time

A/N: Oh well, another audio that rotted azzy's and my brain😂 Based on this audio by my dear miu, hope you like it love @slutforchanlix 🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

Minho and Chan found a quiet spot away from the bustling crowd at the party, nestled under the comforting canopy of a sprawling tree. A soft blanket spread beneath them provided a makeshift sanctuary from the noise and distractions. The night sky above them was a tapestry of stars, twinkling faintly amidst the velvet darkness.

They sat side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally as they sipped from their drinks, the clinking of glasses a gentle background to their conversation. Minho, already feeling a bit lightheaded from the alcohol, couldn't help but notice Chan's relaxed demeanor and chuckled inwardly, convinced his friend was also a few drinks past sobriety.

"You look like you're in another world, Channie hyung," Minho teased lightly, nudging him playfully. "What's on your mind?"

Chan chuckled, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Just enjoying the peace, I guess. It's rare to have moments like this."

"Yeah," Minho agreed, taking another sip. "Life's been hectic lately, huh?"

Chan nodded, his gaze drifting upwards towards the stars. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I just need to escape from all the noise and expectations."

Minho nodded sympathetically, feeling a wave of empathy wash over him. "I get that. So, how do you relax best, then?"

“There's only been one thing that actually helped lately,” Chan grinned mischievously, a glint in his eyes as he glanced at Minho. "By relieving some tension…you know?"

Minho snorted, caught off guard by the unexpected response. He leaned his head on Chan's shoulder, his own laughter bubbling up. "I should've guessed."

Chan chuckled, patting Minho's knee affectionately. "You're not too bad at it yourself, Minho."

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with a snort.

“Your room's right below mine, I'm insomniac, so no, not everyone's asleep when you touch yourself,” he told him, taking another sip. “You're not exactly quiet sometimes and the vent carries it all the way up.”

“Oh,” he whispered, making Chan laugh. “Can't help it sometimes,” he said.

“Yeah, I get that,” Chan agreed, smirking to himself. There hasn't only been one time when Minho's soft moans and quiet whimpers kept him up, too sweet of a symphony to ignore.

Feeling emboldened by the alcohol and the already happening oversharing, Minho decided to share a bit more than he probably should have. "Yeah, well, I tried my fingers once, but it didn't feel nice. I didn't really know what I was doing, so I gave that up again."

Chan burst into laughter, the sound echoing softly in the quiet night. "Noted," he managed between laughs, shaking his head fondly at Minho's confession. Yeah, he'd remember that.

Realizing what he had just admitted, Minho blushed furiously, hoping the darkness hid his embarrassment. "Just don't tell anyone."

Chan sobered slightly, a warm smile on his face as he nudged Minho gently. "Hey, I'll keep your secrets safe, don't worry."

Minho hummed softly before glancing at Chan. “Did you ever try it?”

“Yeah, a few times,” Chan nodded, seemingly unfazed.

“Any…any advice?” he asked, ears burning up.

“Well, you should be able to relax, give yourself time and don't get too eager too fast. Also use enough lube and be careful so you don't hurt yourself,” he told him.

Grateful for Chan's understanding, Minho shifted the topic to something less potentially embarrassing. "Speaking of secrets, what do you think of our new album? You excited about it?"

Chan's eyes lit up with enthusiasm, his earlier humor returning. "Definitely. Also, you've been working so hard on those English lines, Minho. I'm impressed."

Minho pouted playfully, leaning back against the tree trunk. "I get tired of them sometimes, you know?"

Chan nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine. But seriously, you sound amazing singing them. Fans are gonna love it."

A small smile tugged at Minho's lips, grateful for Chan's praise. "Thanks, Channie. Means a lot coming from you."

They fell into a comfortable silence, content to simply be in each other's company, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. The night breeze rustled the leaves above them, a gentle reminder of the world beyond their secluded spot. For Minho and Chan, this brief respite from the demands of their careers was a precious gift—a chance to unwind, to share laughter and confessions under the starlit sky.

As the party's noise gradually seeped back into their awareness, they exchanged a knowing glance, both silently agreeing to cherish this memory. With a final clink of their glasses, they toasted to friendship, to music, and to the simple joy of finding peace beneath the stars.

After a tiring and long day at the company, Chan and Minho finally collapsed onto Chan's bed, the soft mattress providing a welcomed respite from their demanding schedules. They had stayed longer than the others, Chan meticulously fine-tuning tracks for their upcoming album and Minho patiently walking him through the new choreography after.

Chan couldn't help but notice Minho's restlessness as they settled in. The room was bathed in a gentle lilac hue, casting a serene glow that accentuated Minho's features. He looked almost ethereal in that light, but Chan sensed a tension in him that hadn't dissipated since earlier.

"You alright, Minho?" Chan asked softly, his concern evident as he propped himself up on one elbow to look at his friend.

Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair before meeting Chan's gaze. "Yeah, just... I don't know. Can't seem to relax tonight…Long day."

Chan nodded understandingly, his eyes scanning Minho's face with a mixture of affection and curiosity. "Ever wish someone could help you with that? Release some tension after a long day?"

Minho's breath caught slightly at Chan's question, his heart beating a little faster as he processed the implication behind those words. He searched Chan's eyes for a long moment, finding sincerity and a hint of something more—something he had quietly wondered about but never dared to voice.

"Yeah," Minho admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do."

Chan's expression softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he remembered their conversation from a few nights ago—the one where Minho had confessed his clumsy attempt at doing just that. "Remember when you told me about trying with your fingers? Didn't quite like it?"

Minho blushed deeply, embarrassed that Chan remembered and seemed unfazed by his earlier awkwardness. "Yeah," he murmured, unable to meet Chan's gaze directly. “I took your advice but it doesn't feel as good as Felix and Jisung said it would.”

Chan chuckled softly, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind Minho's ear. "It's okay, Minho. You can tell me what you need. That's what I'm here for, yeah?”

Minho swallowed nervously, his heart racing as he leaned closer to Chan, their faces now only inches apart. "I... I need..." He hesitated, unsure if he could voice his desires aloud.

Chan's hand found Minho's, fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of reassurance. "You can trust me, Min. Whatever it is."

With a shaky breath, Minho closed the gap between them, pressing his lips tentatively against Chan's. The kiss was hesitant at first, a mixture of nerves and longing, but soon it deepened, fueled by months of unspoken attraction and the intimacy of their shared moments.

Chan responded eagerly, pulling Minho closer until their bodies were flush against each other. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft sound of their breaths mingling and the gentle rustling of sheets beneath them.

As they broke apart for air, Chan brushed his thumb over Minho's cheek, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I've wanted this, Minho," he confessed softly. "More than I've let myself admit."

Minho smiled shyly, a weight lifted off his shoulders now that his feelings were out in the open. "Me too," he admitted, his voice filled with a mix of relief and joy.

“Can I take care of you?” Chan asked softly and Minho's breath hitched.

“Please,” he nodded gently, rolling onto his back and glancing up at Chan as he sat up. Minho watched him as he gently pushed his legs apart and got seated between them, gently rubbing up his thighs.

“Want me show you how good it can feel?” he asked and Minho bit his lower lip, nodding quickly. Chan reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube.

As Chan settled back between Minho's legs, he held up the bottle of lube with a reassuring smile. Minho's heart raced with anticipation, his body tingling in anticipation of Chan's touch. The soft lilac light cast a gentle glow over them, adding to the intimate atmosphere.

Chan leaned down to kiss Minho softly, their lips meeting in a tender exchange that conveyed both desire and tenderness. Breaking the kiss, Chan whispered against Minho's lips, "Relax, Min. I've got you." Minho hummed softly in response. “May I?” he asked gently, waiting for a nod before removing his pants and boxers.

Minho blushed softly at Chan's admiring expression, feeling a little exposed. “Channie,” he whined softly.

Chan giggled softly. “Ready, pretty?”

Minho nodded, his breath coming in shallow gasps as Chan squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He gently trailed his fingertips down Minho's thighs, causing him to shiver at the sensation. Chan's touch was gentle and deliberate, each movement aimed at building trust and pleasure.

"Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable," Chan murmured, his voice a soothing presence in the quiet room.

Minho nodded again, his eyes locked on Chan's as he slowly began to circle his fingers around Minho's entrance. He applied light pressure, testing Minho's response before gradually easing a finger inside. Minho gasped at the initial intrusion, but Chan didn't move further until he felt Minho relax around him.

"That's it," Chan encouraged softly, his other hand stroking Minho's thigh in a comforting gesture. He continued to move his finger in and out slowly, allowing Minho to adjust to the sensation.

As Minho relaxed further, Chan added a second finger, stretching him carefully and watching closely for any signs of discomfort. Minho's breath hitched, but he didn't flinch away. Instead, he arched his back slightly, silently asking for more.

Minho was a little overwhelmed by how good it felt, panting softly at the feeling. A shaky moan escaped him and he quickly bit his lip, not wanting to fall apart right there during the first time someone touched him.

"You're doing great, Min," Chan praised, his voice filled with admiration and desire. He curled his fingers inside, searching for that spot that would make Minho gasp and moan.

The pleasure began to build, Minho's body responding eagerly to Chan's touch. Chan moved his fingers in a rhythm that was both tender and insistent, coaxing soft sounds of pleasure from Minho's lips. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through Minho's body, heightening his arousal with every stroke.

"Chan..." Minho whispered, his voice strained with need. He reached for Chan's hand, urging him to go deeper, to give him more.

Chan complied, adding a third finger carefully and gauging Minho's reaction. Minho tensed briefly, but as Chan massaged that sensitive spot inside him, pleasure quickly replaced any discomfort. Chan's fingers moved with practiced skill, pushing Minho closer to the edge of ecstasy. Minho's head fell back, jaw growing slack as Chan lovingly worked his prostate. “Oh shit,” he whispered.

Feeling Minho's body respond eagerly, Chan leaned down to kiss him again, their mouths melding in a desperate, passionate kiss. Minho whimpered into Chan's mouth, his hips lifting off the bed to meet Chan's movements.

"Channie hyung," Minho gasped when they finally parted for air, his voice raw with desire.

“I'm here,” Chan whispered gently. “What do you need, baby?��

Minho moaned softly. “Need more, please. Can you - I'm…I never did that before,” he admitted, ears burning up fiercely.

Chan soothingly rubbed his thigh. “Are you sure you want it to be me?” he asked gently, searching his eyes observantly.

“Please,” Minho nodded, vulnerability lacing his features. “I trust you.”

Chan nodded, his own arousal evident as he reached for a condom and quickly prepared himself. He positioned himself between Minho's legs, gazing down at him with a mix of tenderness and hunger.

"You're sure?" Chan asked softly, seeking Minho's consent.

Minho nodded eagerly, his eyes locked with Chan's as he guided himself into Minho's heat. Chan took his time, making sure to give Minho enough room to adjust to the feeling. They both groaned at the sensation of being joined so intimately, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that spoke of longing and mutual need.

With each careful thrust, Chan focused on Minho's reactions, ensuring he moved at a pace that allowed Minho to adjust and enjoy every moment. Minho's soft moans and gasps filled the room, driving Chan further into a state of controlled desire. He kept one hand firmly planted beside Minho's head for support while the other stroked gently at Minho's cheek.

Minho's body responded eagerly, meeting Chan's movements with an increasing urgency that mirrored Chan's own rising desire. Their eyes locked in a silent conversation of trust and need, each moment deepening their connection beyond physical intimacy.

As Chan moved inside him, Minho's fingers clawed at Chan's back, his breath hitching with each deep thrust. Pleasure coiled tightly within him, building to a crescendo that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Chan's movements grew more insistent, driven by the raw need to bring Minho to the peak of ecstasy.

"Chan," Minho gasped, his voice a desperate plea mingled with pleasure.

Chan's heart swelled with affection and desire as he pressed his forehead against Minho's, their breaths mingling in a heated exchange. "I'm here, Minho," he murmured, his voice husky with longing. "Let go. I've got you."

With a final, deep thrust, Chan sent Minho spiraling into euphoria. Minho's body trembled beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over him, his moans filling the room with unrestrained ecstasy. Chan held him close, his own release imminent as he buried his face in Minho's neck, his breath hot against Minho's skin.

Moments later, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts racing in the aftermath of their shared passion. Chan pressed gentle kisses against Minho's temple, his touch reverent and tender.

"You okay?" Chan asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along Minho's back.

Minho nodded, a blissful smile spreading across his face. "More than okay," he whispered, his voice filled with contentment.

Chan smiled back, his heart overflowing with love and tenderness for the man in his arms. He gently withdrew from Minho, disposing of the condom, cleaning Minho up and then pulling him close again, cradling him against his chest. They lay together in the quiet of Chan's room, their breathing slowly synchronizing as they savored the intimacy of their shared moment.

"Thank you, Channie," Minho murmured after a while, breaking the peaceful silence. “For being so gentle and always looking out for me.”

Chan kissed the top of Minho's head, his voice a soft murmur against Minho's hair. "Always, Min. I'm always here for you."

They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the soft lilac light still casting a gentle glow over their entwined bodies. For Minho and Chan, this night marked not only a physical union but also a deeper understanding of their feelings and a bond strengthened by trust and love.

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whispering-ways · 11 months

Text

• ⪩⪨ ♥︎ love struck ♥︎ ⪩⪨ •

♥︎ summary: you've just come back from a horrible date and your roommate, Midoriya, helps comfort you

♥︎ pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

♥︎ tags: no warnings, just fluff :)

♥︎ notes: hi everyone, hope everyone is having a good day and I hope y'all like this fic! love y'all and thanks for supporting my fics <;3

You close the door to your apartment with a sigh and head to the kitchen. “Yet another piss poor date,” you think to yourself, fatigue settling in your bones. At this point, it was just too tiring. You’d downloaded every single dating app you could think of; you tried your luck on Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, and everything else under the moon. But regardless of how wide a net you cast, you always seemed to pull in the worst fish. It’s not that you hadn’t found anyone attractive or no one had liked you, but every single time you went on a date, it just managed to go sour.

The first date you’d been on seemed really nice at first, but with the way the guy kept on mentioning that women should be good housewives rather than ‘trying to shoot for the stars’, you knew that pursuing him would go nowhere. The second guy was no better. You’d agreed to go back to his place, just to realize it wasn’t even a place at all; it was his parents’ basement. The third guy? Gross, absolutely gross and that’s all you were going to say. And that led you to today. Today’s date seemed like a shoo-in.

The guy you were talking to was nice, smart, and sweet and it really looked like he was into you. So when he asked you out on a date to a nearby French restaurant, you were genuinely excited. At the least, it gave you a chance to dress up. But after nearly an hour of waiting, you realized that you’d been stood up. You were so upset thinking about the whole situation that you didn’t even notice your roommate on the couch when you took off your heels.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be home by now. Thought your date would take a little longer than an hour,” Midoriya said, moving to the side and patting the seat next to him, motioning you to sit next to him. Although you didn’t want anyone to see you upset like this, you were so glad to see Midoriya right now. You’d agreed to move in with him about a couple of months ago since you two were already best friends for years. And what you needed the most right now was your best friend and a good and proper vent.

“Yeah I’m fine, just that all my dates keep going terribly and I’m practically un-fucking-loveable or something,” you reply, throwing your purse on the couch and slumping down.

“Ok, no need for sarcasm. What we’re gonna do is you’re gonna sit here and we’re gonna talk it out okay?” Midoriya replies. He gets up to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water before handing it to you. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”

You take a sip and lean back on the couch, placing the glass to the side. “Well, I went to the restaurant and like I thought it’d be like a nice date, like at least a good time you know? But apparently, I’m a fucking moron or something because I sat there for like 45 minutes waiting for him until the staff had to kick me out because of the long wait times.” Just talking about it made tears well up in your eyes.

“What the hell; did he at least send you a text or anything?” Midoriya asked.

"Oh.. that’s the best fucking part is, I walked out of that restaurant and checked Hinge. I had sent so many messages asking where he was, and guess what? He fucking unmatched me!" you share in disbelief, wiping away the tears with your sleeve. You then grab a pizza roll, attempting to find some comfort in food. "I don't know why this always happens.. I just feel like I'm always going to have terrible luck, it's like I'm cursed. Maybe I'm just delusional and need to accept the fact that I'm unlovable..." you speak sadly, staring blankly.

Midoriya placed his hand on your shoulders, abruptly turning you to face him. Surprised by his sudden movement, you paused in your conversation. "Don't say that about yourself, okay? You are loved by so many people, and you're absolutely loveable. All the guys you've just talked to are just douches, and you deserve so much better than them.” You nod your head and wipe your tears, doing your best to pick yourself up.

He lets out a sympathetic sigh. “How about I make you some of that spicy ramen you like and we watch a movie together? You relax and I’ll take care of it all,” he suggested.

You chuckle at the sweet gesture. “Yeah...yeah that sounds really nice actually.” A part of your heart felt a pang of hurt at his actions; although it was a sweet friendly gesture, that’s all it’d end up being. Just a friendly gesture. But you did your best to erase that thought from your head.

Midoriya gets up from the couch to start cooking the ramen and you head to your room to change out of your dress into some more comfortable pajamas. You tie your hair up before heading to the kitchen and sitting on the countertop to watch Midoriya cook. After a moment or two, you pipe up and ask whether he needs any help.

“No, I’m all good; just sit there and look pretty. Besides, it’s just ramen, there’s not much to do with it.”

You blush at the reply, but shrug it off and reply “Well at least I offered.”

As Midoriya cooks the ramen, you both slip into talking about your lives. Midoriya talked about what an ass his boss was being, which was a great way to distract you from your own problems. The light gossip lifts your heart, and you feel refreshed and ready to tackle the world. Once the ramen is prepared, he scoops two bowls and walks towards the couch, where you follow behind him. You sit down and he walks over to your bedroom. With curiosity, you wondered what he was doing there, but shortly after, he returned with your favorite blanket in hand.

It warmed your heart how much effort Midoriya put into cheering you up. He momentarily takes away your bowl of ramen, only to spread the blanket across you and return the bowl back to you. You take a bite and immediately melt into the couch; it is just what you need. Midoriya joins you on the couch and hands you the remote to pick out a movie. After flipping through a couple of options, you finally settle on a rom-com that you’d been wanting to see for a while.

It didn’t long for you both to finish your ramen and from there on out, all you both were focused on was the movie. Or at least, it seemed like that’s what Midoriya was focused on. All you could think about was how close you both were. You didn’t know what compelled you to offer whether he wanted to share your blanket with you, but you were definitely glad that you both were sitting closer together. Your fingertips were barely brushing with his and you could smell the cologne on him. “Pine and just a hint of smoke,” you thought, but you knew thoughts like that were only going to hurt you. After all, you guys were just best friends.

You try your best to remain focused on the movie, which seems to work fairly well. Not too much longer passes until you and Midoriya begin making comments about the film, which had always been your favorite part of watching movies with him; he always had something out-of-pocket to say about what you two were watching. The climax of the movie had the hero show up at his crush’s door with a bouquet, ready to ask her out. "See that right there? That's what I want. Some flowers and all that stuff on a date? What wouldn't I give to experience a date like that,” you exclaim with a dreamy expression on your face.

You hear Midoryia laugh, and you turn towards him, confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just funny you say that like you haven’t ever gotten flowers ever,” he replies, focusing back on the movie.

“That’s because I haven’t,” you mumble quietly, but not quiet enough to slip Midoriya’s earshot.

He whipped his head around to look at you. “That is genuinely insane, if I could take you out I'd have gotten you flowers for sure, what a damn shame honestly.” You look at him stunned, wondering whether if what he said had registered in his own mind.” Well, you know I mean a girl like you, not you...not that there’s anything bad with you..ugh I’m just fucking it up,” he stammers, his hands flying to cover the rosy blush that now covered his entire face.

You turn away from him and an awkward silence passes between you both. But there was no way you could just leave it off at that. “So you want to take me out then?”

“No..well I mean yes, I’d be privileged too but...” he trails off before sighing, leaning back into the couch. His hands still cover his face as he says, “I just...in all honesty, I don’t want to take advantage of you being upset right now and I know that you don’t have feelings for me so a date would just complicate things, you know?”

Saying that you were thrown for a loop was an absolute understatement. It took you a moment or two to process what he just said before replying, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it you know. And it’s not like I don’t have feelings for you.”

Midoriya shot up at break-neck speed. “”What?? What do you mean by that??”

“No it’s whatever really, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you say, fiddling around with the corner of the blanket.

You feel Midoriya's hands gently move over to cover yours, pulling you back to look towards him. His eyes searched for an answer within your own and when you continued to stay silent, he said ”Literally if you don't tell me I'm going to spend all night trying to figure it out and you know I won't with how oblivious I am."

You look down at your interlaced hands and reply, “Well, you know, you’re my best friend and I genuinely enjoy spending time with you. Like I don’t think many people make me genuinely as happy as you do and I have feelings for you. I’ve thought about like being with you, but I like friends with you and I don’t want to weird you out and push you away.”

Midoriya lets go of your hands and for a moment, you think that this was the end, he was going to move out and never talk to you again. But before you can even register it, he pulls you into his arms and hugs you tight. He pulls you back and shifts his hands from the small of your back to your face, cupping it. His face has a huge grin plastered all over it. “Weird me out? I didn’t want to weird you out! I love spending time with you and I’ve wanted to go out with you for a long time. You don’t realize what a dream come true this is.”

At first, hearing that shocks yu, but then you start to laugh at how silly the situation is. You hug him back, happy to be on the same page. After you both let go, you smile and a moment passes between you two. It's a bit awkward but you know what you both are so happy that it’s okay. “Is it okay if I kiss you now.”

You’d never seen a man nod quicker in your life. “Yeah, yeah, that would be nice,” he replied, trying to play off his nod. Your hand slips to his cheek and you lean in to kiss him. You feel his smile against your lips, making you absolutely giddy. You pull away from him, your face flushed red. You looked up at Midoriya, whose green eyes shone with admiration. He just looked too cute; you couldn’t help but lean back into pepper kisses all over his face.

With passion, Midoriya's need to hold you became too overwhelming. He gently eased you into his lap, lifting up both legs so they straddled his. Taking you by surprise, he kissed you repeatedly, as if to convince himself that this was no dream. With every separation of his lips from yours, he seemed more and more content. Breathlessly, he asked, "Is it too early for me to ask you to be my girlfriend?"

“Absolutely not,” you say, snaking your arms around his neck. You pour every drop of affection and joy you had for Midoriya into the kiss. “This is like a dream come true,” you thought.

You two spent the rest of the night, cuddling with each other as you finished the movie. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m so glad that guy flaked on you,” Midoriya said, kissing you softly on the forehead.

You chuckle, leaning on his shoulder. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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glystenangel · 2 years

Text

Say You Love Me Too

Soft!Dom Choso x Afab!Reader Oneshot (Modern AU)

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, we gettin DOWN, best friend to lovers trope, comfort smut, choso’s a little obsessed with you, okay maybe alot obsessed, alot alot alot alot aLOT of praise, words of affirmation, scent kink if you super squint, oral sex (f receiving), nipple play, penetrative sex, raw sex, multiple orgasms, mention of a safeword but not used, one mention of cervix f*cking, one mention of drinking, aftercare and cuddles

summary: you’re venting to your best friend and he accidentally confesses to you

~4.6k words

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

_________________

“So, whats going on with you?”

You peer up at Choso over the tea he brewed from the plant riddled kitchen in his apartment, the steam obscuring his expression and thankfully your own. Although you could guess with certainty that he was searching your body language for any sign of discontent.

“Ah, nothing.”

Feigned nonchalance lines your voice, and you take another big chug of herbal liquid before setting ceramic onto mahogany. The tabletop just below your crossed ankles sports an assortment of neatly stacked books and unused marble coasters. Choso seemed to only display them for show, citing the ringless surface of his coffee table as justification for his laziness.

You two were catching up after you had asked Choso if you could come hang out. You hadn’t bothered waiting for him to reply, only reading that he had texted you back with a ‘yeah, door’s unlocked’ once you were standing outside.

He had dropped the chore he was doing to hug you as soon as you made it across the threshold, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes as you discreetly memorized his cologne. It’s a fresh, calming scent you could never fully place except in association with him.

Maybe you paid a little too much attention to that brief embrace, but you set aside your thoughts as you notice Choso staring at you expectantly. The fog of tea was gone, and you know that look. It had taken you years to recognize previously. Now, it is glaringly obvious as he sits across from you.

He drapes an arm over the back of the couch, “Everything alright? Is this about that guy you told me about?”

A corner of your mouth pulls down for a second, Choso could read you too easily.

“Oh, him?” You begin, and then you ultimately resign to clicking your tongue while making a slicing motion across your neck.

The space between his eyebrows furrows with concern, “What happened?”

You bite the flesh of your bottom lip, hesitating.

“Tell me.” Choso presses a large fist into his cheek, resting his elbow atop his thigh and staring at you intently.

It seems impossible for him to regard you with any sort of gaze less than piercing. In fact, Choso’s default state tends to sit in the realm of perceptiveness and placidity. It definitely came with the territory of having to watch over his little brothers for the entirety of his life thus far. He often had a hard time shutting off his protective instincts, even with his friends. Of course, that includes you.

You shrug under the intensity and partially dodge it by picking your tea back up, “He ghosted me.”

Choso reels back, offended on your behalf and tilting his head to the side with a disbelieving scoff.

“What the fuck?”

“It's okay, it was a couple weeks ago. I’m pretty much over it, just stings a little.” You trace a finger over the rim of your beverage, glancing at him and emitting anything but confidence.

You were over your last dating attempt, but the cowardly rejection still hurt your self-confidence. It was difficult for you to accept that someone you saw potential in had neglected your feelings, and worse, for an ungiven reason. It almost makes you doubt yourself, and you hate that.

Choso makes a contemplative noise, probably reading more of your thoughts.

The idea of that forces you to straighten your posture, “I mean there’s nothing else to it. I thought we had a connection, we liked a lot of the same shit…great sex...”

You give him a sideways glance.

Choso barely moves as you speak. The only time he does is when he blinks or swallows, the sweep of his lengthy eyelashes and dip of his Adam’s Apple punctuating his wordless reactions. The pale column of his throat stretches towards the hollow shapes of his collarbone, and you admire how they complement the strong silhouette of his shoulders. His entire frame is bulky and tall, which he claims is convenient during instances where he has to split up his younger brothers’ fights or during times when you get so plastered that he has to carry you home. The structured, milky planes of his skin are sharply contrasted by every other feature that defines the fine structure of his handsome face, all velvet, dark eyes and messily bundled strands of hair in deep shades of midnight. Even the swipe of black across his nose boldly complements the pretty set of his nose and lips. It was often a habit of Choso’s to absentmindedly tap the middle of the mark whenever he was thinking, coupled with clenching his jaw when annoyed or working hard on a task. The purpled skin underneath his lower lashes gave him a boredom marked countenance, but the gloom seemed to consistently disappear whenever he smiled.

As close as you are with him, it was sometimes hard to talk about your sex life with Choso when he always looked…like that.

Part of you has always been attracted to him, but friendship was safer. At least, that’s what you told yourself. He never said anything otherwise either, and you didn’t suspect he would.

It’s difficult to tear away from him, but you persuade your vision to analyze the cracks between the sofa cushions instead.

“Guess I missed some red flags.” You finish lamely.

Choso shakes his head, “Don’t blame yourself. That guy’s an idiot.”

You wave a hand into the air, “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not ‘whatever’.” Choso catches your eye.

You can see the broad movement of his chest tensing underneath his shirt, and the grit of his teeth in the set square of his jaw.

“I mean it’s happened before. Maybe he just had some things to work on emotionally and wasn’t ready. It’s okay.” You suggest, though you know you were being too nice with that explanation.

“It’s not. He’s an asshole.” Choso repeats, his tone even yet filled with immense reproach.

He doesn’t seem angry despite the slight scowl on his face, more frustrated. You’re not certain why though, so you decide to be blunt.

“Choso, what are you getting so worked up about?”

Choso opts for bluntness as well, scoffing incredulously, “You don’t deserve that and you shouldn’t be making excuses for him.”

You’re a bit annoyed now, it already stung and you expected at least some consolation, not to be lectured.

“You don’t think I know that? God, you’re being an asshole.”

His jaw clicks, and you dare him to say something with your eyes.

Choso goes quiet, settling in his seat as he lowers his sightline.

You wonder if you were too harsh as the air in the room seems to still. Not knowing what to say, you reach out to take his hand in yours. He doesn’t look at you, but accepts your touch and delicately wraps his hand around yours. Silence descends over you both, and a shiver runs through you as Choso brushes the tops of your knuckles with his thumb.

Then, he lifts his head. His eyes are set on yours, and you know something has revealed a shadow of itself in the way he considers you. An inexplicable something.

Somehow, you know exactly what it is.

“I would have never done that to you.” Choso finally says.

As soon as the promise leaves his mouth and your eyes widen in reaction, he bows his head and touches the smooth skin of his forehead to where your hands are still woven together.

“Shit. Sorry. Don’t say anything. Please.” He intakes a breath and you blink upon hearing the tremor running through it, “Now’s not the right time for that.”

“Choso.” You let go of his hand, cradling his face instead.

He allows it, but immediately drops his gaze once you make eye contact and tries to subtly pull back from your grasp.

“No- Sorry, I just-sorry. That’s not-” He stops himself, opting to press his lips together and seal them.

Gently, you slide your hands down to the back of his neck, tucking your chin to see if you can convince him to look at you again.

“Say it.”

Hesitation, and then you feel him melting into your touch. The skin of his cheeks is cold, but when he speaks the warmth of his breathing skirts past the heels of your palms.

“I love you.” He swallows, like the admission is poisoning him, “I…want you.”

You’ve never seen Choso appear so hopeless or apologetic.

Like it broke his heart to say it.

You don’t let the admission sink in for more than a second. You tug him forward and sense his hands startle until they automatically anchor into your waist the deeper your lips meet.

A desperate type of flavor colors the kiss, your entire body heating with unrestrained fervor as Choso’s hands move down your body and hook into your thighs. He easily hoists you up and sits you on his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and swooning when he lets out a small moan between your lips.

Choso’s thumbs knead into the skin underneath your shirt, “Can we-”

“Yes.” You answer, and he bestows more eager kisses to your lips.

You feel him standing and you wrap your arms around his neck, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip as Choso carries you into his bedroom. Once your back hits the cool surface of his sheets, you start unbiasedly gripping fistfuls of his clothing to get it off.

“The couch would’ve been fine.” You mumble as he drags your shirt over your head.

“No.” He cages you between his arms, which are wiry and lined with veins you want to lick, “You said you hated my couch when I first moved here.”

You laugh at him remembering, and he smiles into the next kiss he gives you.

“Only the best for you.”

“So sweet.” You kiss him back, your stomach fluttering at his genuine words.

He starts shrugging your pants off of your hips, “Something about you makes me like this.”

As soon as you’re both stripped down to your underwear, the want you hold for each other slowly takes over. You fully explore the mind hazing feeling of his tongue gliding against yours, looping your saliva together and roaming your hands over each other’s skin.

A groan leaves Choso when your fingertips stroke against the fabric tented over his hardon, his grip on you tightening and you start getting shy.

Because, well, it’s Choso.

You only ever fucked him in your head and he was pretty private about what he liked from his exes.

He seems to notice your apprehension immediately, his nose hovering by the shell of your ear, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what to do. With you.” You sheepishly admit.

The edge of his lip grazes your ear, “You don’t have to do anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, I’ll prove it.” Choso reassures, kissing your cheek, “Just give me a safe word.”

Before you can stop yourself, you tauntingly blurt out, “Couch.”

An astounded laugh leaves him, “You suck.”

“Aw, I love you too.” You respond, smirking at the immediate effect it has on him.

He bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning, but it breaks out across his face anyway.

“Come here.” Choso leans down to capture your lips once more, mumbling sweet nothings as he trails kisses down the curves of your neck.

“Leave it to me.” He whispers, licking a spot at the base of your throat and nipping the sensitive skin there.

“I’ll make you feel good. Want to.” Choso continues, tracing your body with touches of his lips and hands so dedicated to pleasing you that you become wracked with trembles.

He tweaks your nipples with pinches of his fingers, teasing the taut peaks further with his tongue.

“Ah, Ch-Choso.” You arch your back, clutching at one of his hands as he uses the other to push the side of your hip flat to his bed.

“Wait.” He softly instructs, continuing to squeeze and lick your tits until you’re squirming underneath him.

Rushes of adrenaline roll down your body, collecting in your thudding core and visibly leaking your excitement into the cloth covering your sex. Choso is patient and attentive, and you wonder how embarrassing it would be if you came just from him playing with your tits.

Choso breathlessly rubs his thumbs back and forth over your nipples, concentrating on the growing splotch between your legs and your whimpering lips.

“Is this turning you on? You’re getting all wet. It’s cute.”

You try to keep a straight face, but you know that it’s not working. Hiding from Choso never worked.

He openly chuckles at the sight of you struggling, and you shiver from the low reverberation of it.

Choso coos at your obvious need, “Okay, okay. I’ll stop teasing.”

One last kiss to the marks he left on your chest, and then he crouches down to adorn the middle of your waist with a slow path of kisses to where you want him the most.

“So wet. Fuck, I’m getting so hard.” He mutters, pressing his lips to each side of your inner thighs.

“You don’t mind right?” He pulls at the waistband of your underwear, the sizable imprint of your arousal drenching the front.

“No.” You say quickly, bucking your hips into his face, “Want it. Please.”

He unfurls his tongue, using the pointed tip to draw a pensive line down the thin material ruined by your desperate cunt.

“I want it too.”

Sounds of satisfaction leave him more and more as he adds to the slick staining your panties. He kisses along the hems and then finally bunches them past your ankles to unceremoniously toss them on the floor.

Choso takes in the messy view of your pussy for mere seconds, and then he’s gripping at your bare ass to languidly stroke up and down your folds with the pink of his tongue.

As frantic and filthy as his motions are, he takes his time when his tongue starts swiping into your slick warmth.

You think he might be talking between noisy gulps of pussy, but you honestly aren’t listening and far more focused on how his nose periodically nestles against your clit. The malleable swells of your ass are spread apart by Choso as he continuously drools and bends his tongue into your excited walls.

He seems to like how your fluids dribble along his tongue, beading into his throat and giving him mouthfuls of your cunt.

The enthusiasm he has is so endearing that you reach for his hands, wanting to reciprocate with some sort of connection. The skim of skin has him glimpsing up at you before he takes both of your hands in his.

Choso’s thumb steadily rubbing across the tense grooves of your knuckles is so different from the firm, dizzying laps of his tongue, but you adore them both.

Once he’s collected enough of your precum on the flat of his tongue, he starts making long licks up the seams of your pussy that end with aggressively circling his tongue around the swollen flesh of your clit. Sucking at your clit, he devours every creamy drop of lust from your pussy so fast and well that you can hardly tell if he’s breathing anymore.

You possess a similar struggle, your vision turning to static and your breath continuously getting caught in your chest from how good he’s eating you up.

He’s moaning unbiasedly into you, like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. Like every squishy piece of your cunt is saturated with pure sugar and sex.

Choso then lets go of one of your hands, reaching his fingertips over your thigh and then placing the tips on your soaked nub. He rubs it back and forth, pressing the pads down in a bliss inducing pattern as he keeps fucking open your cunt with his tongue.

You feel every tastebud on his tongue twisting against your walls as far as he can reach, the hum of his lips buzzing electricity throughout your core.

It’s so good that you don’t even realize how many times you’ve already cummed into his mouth. All you can do is flinch and surrender under his keen administrations.

Wanton cries part your lips, and although your vision is blurry you manage to see Choso giving your wetness one last lick before he rises to kneel in front of you.

He keeps giving your clit loving attention, forcing your hips into a taut curve as he tucks his thighs beneath yours and lines himself up to your pulsing sex.

You peek over your quivering breasts to see the defined shape of his dick, the hardness twitching and grooved with aching veins. He’s as big as you expected, and just seeing his girthy cock is already making your stomach ache and twist. The head is swollen thick with a slit sheened in precum, a glob of it slithering over the sides and forming a dewy drop next to the coarse nest of hair over his balls. He holds the base while looking into your eyes, and the thickness twitches in his hand.

“Say the safe word if you need it, okay?”

Choso makes sure you’re watching him, and at your faint nod, he starts pushing in.

He doesn’t stop mashing your clit back and forth with the stickied pads of his fingers, slowly stuffing you with his cock and bringing your hips together.

“W-wait. Choso-I’m about to-!”

You’re cumming again as he puts his dick in, sliding in so effortlessly it’s like he was always meant to be there.

“Oh, fuck!” You let out a whine as you begin recklessly fucking into each other, each synced push of your hips leaving you both gasping.

“Your cum feels so good on my dick.” Choso groans, the whites of his eyes showing as he reels his hips back.

“Want more of it. Gonna keep making you cum.” He pants, pumping faster and prodding at your cervix.

He hits an eye crossing spot in the ceiling of your pussy, and that’s when your whole body seizes again.

“Stay there. S-Stay, please please please, Choso.” You nearly black out between begs, but Choso doesn’t have to hear it more than once.

“I got you, here. Here.” He grunts, clasping your hands in his again to hit that spot within you until you’re screaming.

Choso stops to look at you every now and then, tenderly scanning your face to make sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

“Oh my god!” Your nails indent crescents into the backs of his hands and he slots his tongue into your mouth in time to hush your next delight filled mewl.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” You can feel every stutter of his hips, and his pupils are completely blown out as he urgently searches your eyes, “Wanna cum with me?”

“Mm,” You taste the salt of your tears pooling in the corners of your mouth, “Please, Choso. Now, please.”

Instead of answering, he kisses you, forcing you to only hear the sounds of his tongue in your mouth and the squish of your pussy as its molded into the shape of his dick. It pummels into your walls until you can’t deny each other any longer.

“I’m cumming- Ah- Choso-” You weakly confess, Choso’s ropy gushes of cum following the spurts of heady fluid from your overwhelmed pussy.

“Good girl.” He says, observing you through a half lidded squint and the cloudy lens of his own uncontrollable shudders, “Good girl. Good girl. Showing me how good you feel? Thank you.”

Wispy whines prelude Choso pulling out, and he soothes his hands over the ravaged areas of your body as you do your best to hold onto his neck and stop shaking.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He murmurs into your hair, delicately kissing a spot on your jawline, “You were so good for me. Perfect.”

He lays you onto the bed, cupping your chin and dotting your face with more kisses.

“I’m gonna clean you up, ‘kay?”

You make a tiny sound of agreement, and Choso rests a hand along your body as he makes his way off of the bed, only separating at the last possible moment.

He returns quickly, wiping you off with a warm, wet cloth and then taking you back in his arms while covering you with his fluffy comforter.

“Sorry I had to go.” Choso settles you on his chest, enveloping his hands behind your lower back.

“It’s okay, thank you.” You kiss the base of his neck, sighing into his skin.

“I really like you.” He says, and you poke fun at the sudden, timid proclamation.

“I know,” You gesture to the marks he spotted all over your body, and at one you bit on the side of his throat, “I really like you too.”

“Yeah? Got a little crush?” He muses, preening at your proximity.

“Huge one.” You shift closer.

“That’s funny, me too.”

“Embarrassing.” You tease, moving your gaze to his cupid’s bow.

Choso lets out a long exhale, “I know. Can’t help it though.”

You give him a happy peck on the lips, and he cradles the back of your head as he sweetly returns it.

A pout accompanies the wave of exhaustion that floods you when you pull away from Choso, “I want to keep talking to you, but I’m so sleepy.”

“We can talk for a little longer. Whatever you like, as long as I can keep holding you.” Choso bargains, and the offer makes your heart melt.

“Sounds fair to me.” You beam, and he kisses your forehead.

“My heart’s still beating like crazy.” He admits, skating his fingers around your face.

“Mine too.”

Choso’s fingertips fall to your lips, cascading along your chin and neck before settling between your shoulder blades. A thoughtful hum leaves him as he lightly rakes his fingers across the space of skin, studying the places he bruised on your neck.

He briefly presses his lips together, “Okay, I’m going to calm down.”

Even as he says so, his breathing hitches when you wink at him.

“Okay, you do that.”

He inhales, and a beat of silence occupies the space between you too.

“God,” Choso cranes his neck to inch closer, “You smell so good.”

“Choso.” You admonish playfully, propping yourself up to create some distance.

“Okay, okay. I’m sleeping.”

He settles into the sheets, loosening his grip on you and pretending to close his eyes. You almost believe him, but your instinct doesn’t at all.

Handfuls of seconds tick by, and then he peeks his eyes open, an enamored smile cinching his mouth upwards.

“Hi.” You give him a cheeky wave with a couple of fingers.

“Hi.”

In an instant, he showers you with kisses, smushing your cheeks with a hand and making your heart swell.

“Okay. Now-” Another couple of sleepy kisses are paired with a content sound that you echo.

“I’m done.” He lets go of your face, sinking back against his pillow and genuine sleepiness now overtaking his voice.

“Goodnight.”

You snuggle into the nape of his neck, worn out from your shared affections, “Goodnight, Choso.”

_________________

The sun drapes its silken rays through Choso’s windows the next morning, muted orange urging you to wake.

A relaxing, undulating motion lulls you out of your slumber. You haven’t moved at all from your position on Choso’s chest, the solid muscle of his stature supporting your aching figure. The natural inclination to raise your head and check if Choso is awake becomes interrupted by the sensation of him tenderly stroking your hair.

And, he’s talking quietly.

“So beautiful, even asleep.” He tries to stifle a good natured laugh, but you still feel it a little between your hearts.

“I don’t think you even know how precious you are to me…how highly I think of you. I can talk to you about anything.”

“You’re gorgeous too. Drives me crazy.” He curls a strand of hair around your ear and repeats it more softly.

“...Gorgeous.”

Like it’s your name.

“I don’t think I’ve said all of this to you yet. At least when you’re awake. If you ever woke up during one of our camping trips or after party sleepovers I would probably die of embarrassment.”

He makes a thinking sound, and it ripples through you. You’re speechless.

“You know it’s kind of stupid, I always imagine talking to you. What you would say, how you might react to some good news I have. You exceed my expectations every time though. It’s pretty close to pathetic-”

Choso scoffs and it’s tinged with shame, “I hang on every word you say.”

The confession has you starstruck, you had been so clueless.

“I don’t even remember when I started falling for you, maybe a few months after we met? When I finally asked myself why I hated every guy you dated? Or, maybe after you met my brothers for the first time, and they told me I looked at you like you put the stars in the sky. I don’t think I realized it even then. Didn’t wanna freak you out, I didn’t want you to think I only wanted to be your friend to get in your pants. I’d fucking hate myself if you ever thought that.”

Deep exhales wash over you, “I hope I don’t fuck this up, for as long as you’ll have me.”

The dark haired man gives the top of your head a kiss, and then lets out another sigh.

“You’re my best friend. I love you. Every time I think about love, I think about you.”

He contemplatively plays with your hair, using another hand to draw random shapes into your back.

“I always, always think about you.”

The well of emotion in your heart nearly spills over, you don’t think anyone has ever told you anything close to the casual details Choso shares about his thoughts on you.

You try to keep your tears in, but Choso continues with a small snicker, “I’m getting ahead of myself…but that’s how I feel. I hope you wake up soon, I miss you.”

There’s a pause, and you finally can’t take it anymore, tears fall from your eyes at the doting words you unintendedly overheard.

“What’s going on? Hey, wake up.” Choso is immediately concerned, holding you close and tucking your hair away from your face.

“Nothing, I just - I’m really happy to wake up next to you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt sooner.”

“That’s alright. You’re worth the wait.”

Choso never seems to run short of patience or kindness for you.

He wipes at your tears, “What are we going to do today?”

You cease your sniffling, pacified by his considerate assurances, “Um, I don’t know. It’s the weekend, we could get breakfast and then watch that movie we had been meaning to last night?”

“That sounds good.” Choso kisses your cheek.

You yawn after stretching your arms out, “Oh, do you have popcorn? I really want some.”

“Some what?” Choso mumbles, caressing your sides.

“Are you even listening to me?” You jokingly narrow your eyes.

“Of course, hang on every word you say.” Choso lifts his chin, smirking.

You bring yourself nearer, nose to nose, “Oh, so you can compliment me when I’m awake too?”

He pales in epiphany, “That’s-”

You use a kiss to muffle his protest, “I was hanging on every word too. Believe me.”

Choso softens completely, a myriad of stars speckled in his eyes as he stares up at you. You drink in his utterly captivated face, the effort of last night dewing his features and blooming on his musculature.

You know exactly what he’s thinking, and he confirms it when he speaks again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Choso.”

_________________

End Notes:

i feel like choso likes plants bc he likes taking care of people/things🌱✨

comments and messages on this are appreciated if you'd like to leave one <3

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gravehags · 1 year

Text

every day is halloween

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: reader and Copia have become good friends, sexual tension, romantic tension, Halloween party, Terzo is back on his matchmaking bullshit, slight Terzomega

Words: 2,156

Summary: Halloween always was your favorite holiday.

a/n: Desperately wanted Copia in a Halloween costume so here we are. If you know who either Copia or reader is dressed as I'm giving you a big wet kiss with tongue.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“So what are you going to be for the big Halloween party?”

You’ve got your feet up on your coffee table, currently watching Copia poorly guide Lara Croft through a jungle temple. When you found out he likes video games just as much as you do - albeit his games are a little older - you invited him to your quarters every Friday for a game night. These nights usually consisted of the two of you drinking wine and taking turns with your PS5 controller, all the while casually venting about your respective weeks. Lara runs directly off a cliff and you snort as Copia throws his hands up in defeat, tossing the controller onto the couch.

“Eh…it’s a secret,” the tips of his ears are red and a slow grin settles on your face.

“Ooooh,” you tease, adjusting yourself on the cushion so your legs are tucked under you. “Alright fine, I’m not telling you mine either. But it’s so good. You’ll never guess.”

Copia’s mustache twitches in amusement.

“Hmm…give me a hint, cara. Per favore.”

You’re momentarily distracted by the endearment - you still haven’t quite gotten used to hearing that sort of thing from him since Terzo’s party and it enchants you every time - but then your face settles into a pout.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Eh…because we are amici. And I am a terrible guesser.”

You make sure to put extra drama into your eye roll but answer him all the same.

“Fine. ONE hint. It’s a historical figure.”

When he reaches a gloved hand up to stroke his mustache thoughtfully you can’t help but sigh a little. Where did he get off being so damn cute?

“Is it–”

“Don’t guess now,” you say, slapping his arm lightly. “You can ponder it over the next few weeks. Now come on, pick that controller up, Lara has some tombs to raid.”

Grabbing it, he passes it to you.

“Your turn, dolcezza,” he says with a tired look. “It has been far too long a week and I would much rather watch you play.”

Shrugging, you lean over and set your wine glass down on the table and accept the controller from his hand.

“Watch and learn, dear Cardinal,” you smirk as you unpause the game.

He spends the remainder of the evening with his eyes on you and not the screen.

—-

“Progress on your costume coming along?” you ask, bent over with your arms on Copia’s desk. When you see his cheeks redden at the sight of you you realize your compromising position and straighten with a blush of your own.

“Eh…” he begins and clears his throat, fidgeting with the cuffs of his cassock. “Sì. Very well, I think I have all the necessary parts.”

You roll up on your tiptoes with a thoughtful expression. “Me too. Gotta say you’ve got me very intrigued, Copia.”

“D-do I?” he asks, leaning back in his chair trying his best to look casual. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and he reaches up to straighten his biretta.

“Mmhmm. Two weeks and we’ll see who can guess who is who,” you say, rolling back onto the flat of your feet and crossing your arms.

“Ah…is this a challenge now, cara?”

You fix Copia with a positively angelic look and cant your hip, not missing the way his mismatched eyes slide over your form. When he smirks up at you, your knees nearly buckle.

“Well then, signorina, if I can guess who you are or you can guess who I am…then what?”

“You get…a favor.”

“Oh?” He’s stroking his mustache again and this time you have to take a seat because your knees really do wobble.

“Yep, one favor. Redeemable anywhere, anytime.”

“For anything?” the tone of his voice lowers, darkens, and it takes you by surprise. Suddenly you remember that delicious little dream you had where he–

Ahem.

Focus.

“Sure,” you say lightly, ignoring the implications of such a broad demand. “And if I guess correctly, I get a favor of my own.”

“What if we both guess correctly?”

“Well,” you say, studying your cuticles, “the favors could cancel each other out. Or we just both have favors from one another.”

“Sì, the second option,” he says quickly, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair.

“Got something in mind?” you ask with a wry grin, wiggling your eyebrows a little. His eyes narrow and he exhales through his nose.

“Perhaps,” he practically purrs, and you have to force yourself to school your face into a neutral expression. Flustered, you rise from your chair and meander towards his office door. When your hand is on the knob you turn to face him again.

“It’s a bet, then?”

He nods solemnly, but you don’t miss the lascivious grin that plays around his painted lips.

Game on.

—

You’ve finally finished lacing yourself into the decadent black and red gown you purchased and regard yourself in your bedroom mirror. Seventeenth-century looks good on you, with the shape of the stays you wear and the way they heave your breasts up. Reaching backwards towards your bed, you grab the belt you made with small potion bottles and tie it around your waist. Last thing is an elaborate pearl necklace - the icing on the cake. When you’ve completed your look you give a little twirl in place and grin. Copia won’t know what hit him. Walking out of your room you grab your keys and phone and slip them into the discreet pocket inside your dress before heading out of your quarters.

The Ministry Halloween party, you’ve been told, is quite a sight. Terzo described it to you once at the beginning of September as the most lively celebration of the year. You are quite looking forward to seeing the costumes the siblings have adorned themselves with and your little heels tap insistently on the stone floor as you pick up your pace. Approaching the celebration hall you hear an intense muffled din coming through the large wooden doors. Taking a deep breath, you heave the doors open and your jaw drops. There must be hundreds of people in the room, wearing every costume you could possibly imagine. One wall is lined with a long table filled with decadent foods and beverages. Music plays, but is ultimately drowned out by the boisterous noise coming from the crowd that you find yourself navigating. Several siblings smile at you as you pass - just now finally warming up to you - and you’re relieved when you spot Terzo. He’s decked out in head-to-toe black with a cape and a mask over his eyes, a jaunty hat perched on his dark hair.

“Zorro?” you ask with a smile and he beams back at you.

“Do I not look very dashing?” he crows, striking a pose. One of his ghouls emerges from behind you carrying a glass of punch - Omega, you think? - who is wearing his usual mask and short cassock. On his head is a headband with a gold halo attached and when you laugh out loud, you like to think he’s smiling at you from behind the mask. The ghouls and their function were still a mystery to you but you appreciated their stoic presence around the abbey. Terzo accepts the punch from Omega and cozies up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Don’t you look delicious tonight, bella,” he purrs in your ear. “Beautiful view,” he says, his eyes lingering on the abundant cleavage your gown produces.

When you roll your eyes and elbow him sharply in the side, you swear you hear the tall ghoul chuckle.

“I assume,” Terzo coughs after collecting himself, “that you are looking for your amato cardinale?”

You open your mouth to both protest and respond when you see Copia cutting through the crowd. He looks incredible. As he approaches your trio you gape at his outfit, having never seen him in anything but his standard cassock before. He’s wearing a tuxedo with a black bowtie and a red cummerbund. On his shoulders is a black cape lined with red satin. His mustache is waxed and hair impeccable, and you notice he’s added some grey at the temples to enhance his natural coloring.

Now it’s Terzo’s turn to elbow you. But there’s no need - Copia is similarly enraptured with your appearance, eyes dancing over the details of your gown and as Terzo did, gazing at the swell of your breasts.

“Bellissima,” Copia breathes and Terzo regards the two of you with something akin to pride.

“Omega,” he says airily, “let us fetch some drinks.”

You barely register Terzo and his ghoul leaving the two of you alone. It’s as if all of a sudden the raucous din from the party around you has quieted as the two of you behold each other. Finally coming to your senses you shake your head and give Copia a wide smile.

“Look at you,” you say, giving him an exaggerated once-over, “aren’t you something?”

“Me?” Copia replies hoarsely, adjusting his tuxedo jacket, “Cara, you.”

You give a little “who me?” wave of your hand, but the violent blush on your cheeks gives away your true feelings.

“Well?” you ask, giving a little twirl, “who am I?”

Copia’s mouth finally closes as he remembers the bet the two of you have created. He puts his gloved hand to his chin and considers.

“Eh…is the costume historically accurate?”

You put on a faux-offended look. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

He gives you a sheepish smile and waves his hand at you.

“Hmm…” he studies you intently and you look to the ground in an effort to avoid his gaze.

“You get three guesses,” you murmur. You’re feeling generous tonight, and you’d be lying if you said a part of you didn’t want him to win.

“Artemisia Gentileschi,” he says firmly.

“Ooh, not a bad guess!” you’re impressed by him that’s for sure. “But no, not Artemisia.”

“Ah shit,” he sighs. “But the right era, sì?”

You nod.

He considers you for another silent moment before making a noise of exclamation.

“Julie d’Aubigny!” he says, looking smug. Once again you have to hand it to him for his knowledge of deep historical cuts.

“I appreciate that you acknowledge me as a bisexual icon but nope. I have no sword!”

Copia swears loudly and puts his hands on his hips. Idly, you run your fingers over the potion bottles on your belt. He’s silent for almost three whole minutes before a slow grin spreads on his face.

“Giulia Tofana,” he says, fully sure of himself this time. You grin back at him, giggle erupting from your throat.

“Bingo,” you say, poking him lightly in the chest. “Not too shabby, Cardinal, I’m very impressed.”

He looks like he wants to strut around like a proud rooster and you love the confident air he’s adorned himself with. When he’s finished preening about his victory, he holds up his hands.

“Your turn, cara.”

When you step forward into his space his eyes widen and his breathing becomes more rapid as you stalk around him in a circle.

“I think,” you say as you round his shoulder, “I deserve a hint. I gave you one a month ago and it’s only fair.”

“We’ve discussed him before,” he says simply, adjusting his gloves. Your lips curl upwards.

“Well as I have said before you look an awful lot like Vincent Price. And there’s something so familiar about this get-up, I know I’ve seen it somewhere…”

Copia says nothing but his mustache twitches in an effort not to smile. You open your mouth to tease him and then it hits you like a truck.

“Oh. My God.” you laugh. “No way!”

He’s giggling with you now, knowing full well you’ve deduced his outfit.

“You did not come to this party dressed as Vincent Van Ghoul!” you squeal and he lets out a deep laugh.

“Molto bene, Signora Tofana,” he says, slowly clapping his hands together. You give him a little curtsy just as Terzo and Omega approach you again, bearing several cups of punch.

“For you,” Terzo thrusts a glass of ominous red liquid into your hand before handing another to Copia. You smile fondly at him over the rim of your glass and Terzo gives you a little wink.

“Saluti!” he half-shouts, raising his glass. “To bets! To Sathanas! To love!”

Avoiding all eyes, you clink your glass against the other three and take a deep drink. You don’t know what is in this stuff but you suspect it’s whatever Terzo made you take a shot of at that party. It makes your throat burn and your belly warm.

“Happy Halloween,” you say softly, eyes meeting Copia’s once more.

“Happy Halloween, cara mia,” he says, just as quietly.

You don’t see Terzo looking up at Omega knowingly before pressing a kiss to the side of his mask.

#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia x f!reader #cardinal copia #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 months

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 9

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The next morning, they had to sit next to each other.

me when i’m a high school junior and had a huge falling out with my best friend who i’m totally not in love with last night but we still have to coexist in ap english class

The joint thrones today were under a silk awning, raised to protect Laurent’s milkmaid skin from the sun.

BRUTAL

Lady Vannes murmuring into the ear of a new female pet

oooooh what happened to the old one? drama alert!!

A part of Damen acknowledged, a little guiltily, that Laurent probably hadn’t deserved to get thrown around the training arena as a result.

laurent would disagree

Nikandros said, without looking next to him, ‘Your uncle has wiped out half of our army with two hundred men.’ ‘And a belt,’ said Laurent.

nikandros private twitter vent #11. incoherent violent stick figure jpegs

Damen said, ‘At least someone else has a chance to win at javelin.’

i understand that people like sports and it’s a fun thing to add to a pretty serious story but i am the buzzkill here and ugh. sports

In the stands, slaves rhythmically raised and lowered fans and brought shallow cups of wine that everyone drank except Laurent.

me getting ginger beer at the bar yesterday while the dude i was with drank an espresso martini and two whiskeys

He came forward naked, as was the custom in Akielos.

i feel like violent dangerous sports are a really good occasion to wear MORE clothing, but go off i guess

The two men scooped oil from the receptacle brought to them by the stewards, anointed their bodies with it, then they slung their arms around one another’s shoulders, and, on the signal, heaved. The crowd cheered, the men grappled, their bodies straining against each other in slippery hold after slippery hold, until Pallas finally had Elon panting, on the grass, the sounds an eruption from the crowd.

this is like the not-evil twin of the veretian court wrestling

Damen rose from the throne, and put his hand to the gold brooch at his shoulder. His garment dropped and the crowd roared its approval.

you know, damen’s lack of freaking out about some of the indignities of the veretian court make more sense now

‘Good fight,’ he said, taking his place again on the throne beside Laurent. He waved over some wine. ‘What is it?’ ‘Nothing,’ said Laurent, and found somewhere else to put his eyes.

hang in there buddy

‘What can we expect next? I really feel,’ said Vannes, ‘it might be anything.’

i love the slight disdain here

‘Who did this to you?’ ‘I did,’ Laurent said. Damen turned. Laurent stood in the entryway of the tent. He was arranged with elegant grace and his lazy, blue-eyed attention was all on Nikandros. Laurent said, ‘I meant to kill him, but my uncle wouldn’t let me.’ Nikandros took an impotent step forward but Damen already had a restraining hand on his arm. Nikandros’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. His eyes were on Laurent furiously. Laurent said, ‘He sucked my cock too.’ Nikandros said, ‘Exalted, I beg permission to challenge the Prince of Vere to a duel of honour for the insult that he has done to you.’ ‘Denied,’ said Damen. ‘You see?’ said Laurent. ‘He has forgiven me for the small matter of the whip. I have forgiven him for the small matter of killing my brother. All praise the alliance.’ ‘You flayed the skin from his back.’ ‘Not personally. I just watched while I had my man do it.’ Laurent said it with a fronded, long-lashed gaze. Nikandros looked physically sick with the effort of repressing his anger. ‘How many lashes was it? Fifty? One hundred? He might have died!’ Laurent said, ‘Yes, that was the idea.’

LAMEN HR COMPLAINT #8

god i FUCKING love this little confrontation. i appreciate how we can start easing into some more comedy with these specific characters, because nobody here is like actively enslaved or abused. they’re all on even footing, so shots can be fired for fun, and can be read as such. the analysis here, in short, is that damen and laurent are both insane about each other and nikandros just has to deal with it. laurent thinks it’s amusing to mess with nikandros, and to a lesser degree damen. and damen tolerates it because he knows laurent behind his performative cruelty, but can’t possibly explain that to nikandros. regardless, laurent has immunity from damen, which means he also has immunity from nikandros.

this is also a good way to show how both damen and laurent have started “settling” the matters of damen killing auguste and laurent punishing him in vere, since the last scene where both subjects were heavily referenced.

Angry as he was, Nikandros wouldn’t disobey a direct order. His training was too deeply ingrained.

i like this subtle moment. damen grew up in the same culture, yet one of his main Things in this series has always been disobeying orders he disagrees with. built different!

‘Why would you do that? He’ll defect.’ ‘He’s not going to defect. He is your most loyal servant.’ ‘So you push him to breaking point?’ ‘Should I have told him I didn’t enjoy it?’ said Laurent. ‘But I did enjoy it. I liked it most near the end, when you broke down.’

laurent calculated and performative cruelty to protect himself from being vulnerable, you know the drill by now

‘You didn’t have to come here. You could have sent a messenger.’ In the pause that followed, Laurent’s gaze shifted involuntarily sideways. A strange prickling passing over his skin, Damen realised that Laurent was looking at the polished mirror behind him at the reflection of his scars. Their eyes met again. Laurent wasn’t often caught out, but a single glance had betrayed him. They both knew it. Damen felt the hard ache of it. ‘Admiring your handiwork?’

damen: i know you came here on purpose to spend time with me alone when you totally didn’t have to laurent: [very obviously checks out damen’s bare back, and not just for the symbolism reasons] damen: you want to look at me so bad (because you have an emotional attachment to the marks and you want to torture us both about it, and also because you think i’m hot. in both cases you’re the desperate one here, i win)

‘I’ll join you after I’ve dressed. Unless you want to step closer. You can help stick in the pin.’ ‘Do it yourself,’ said Laurent.

this sounds like their prince’s gambit-era antagonistic, vaguely horny, reluctantly fond banter. we’re getting somewhere!

The fever pitch of the crowd was bloodthirsty. The okton brought that out in them, the danger, the threat of maiming. The second of two targets was hammered onto its struts, and the attendants gave the all clear. In the heat of the day, anticipation was an insect buzz, rising to a commotion on the south-western side of the field.

this is such a fucking terrible idea you are in a WAR. damen you are going to be KING. why are you risking your life to play a sports right now. it would be like if the person about to cure a disease decided to play a game of bowling with a 80% survival rate right before they finished the vaccine

Damen heard the reaction of those around him. The Veretian Prince was, at a glance, Damen’s athletic inferior. Certainly, he avoided the training fields. No Akielon had ever seen him fight, or take exercise. He had not participated in any of today’s contests. He had done nothing more than sit, elegant and relaxed, as now. ‘Veretians do not train in the okton,’ said Damen. ‘In Akielos, the okton is known as the sport of kings,’ said Makedon. ‘Our own King will take the field. Does the Prince of Vere lack the courage to ride against him?’

makedon wants that twink obliterated

Damen waited for Laurent to sidestep, to evade, to find, somehow, the words to extricate himself from the situation. The flags fluttered loudly. The stands were silent, to a man. ‘Why not?’ said Laurent.

FSIUFHSDIUFHSDF i love laurent so much it’s unreal. this is the same response you’d give if a friend asked if you wanted to get takeout on a thursday night. “yeah, why not?” mr. “probably” laurent strikes again

Mounted, Damen faced the course, holding his horse ready at the starting line. His mount shifted, fractious, eager for the horn that would signal his start. Two horses down from his own, he could see Laurent’s bright head.

their horses who are canonically in love with each other get to do homoerotic sports too!!

But the true challenge of the okton was this: if you missed, your spear might kill your opponent. If your opponent missed, you were dead.

i was going to say “thankfully there are no real-life sports that sacrifice the physical well-being and possibly lives of eager-to-impress youths looking for glory and compensation” but then i remembered american college football exists

Laurent could also throw a spear. Probably.

probably.

But all of that meant nothing in the face of the okton. Men died during the okton. Men fell, men suffered permanent injury—from a spear; from hooves after a fall. Out of the corner of his eye, Damen could see the physicians, including Paschal, who waited on the sidelines, ready to patch and sew. There was a great deal at stake for the lives of the physicians, with royalty from two countries on the field. There was a great deal at stake for everyone.

not beating the american college football allegations

Damen could not aid Laurent in the contest.

he’ll kill one of his own people by throwing a sword across a clearing to save his captor in book 2, but he won’t use his kingly authority to say “hey guys maybe let’s not put both of the army’s leaders, one of whom is the love of my life and also my divorced husband, in the hunger games right now”

There was something intellectual in the way he assessed the field, and it set him apart from the other riders. For Laurent, physical pursuits were not instinctive, and for the first time it occurred to Damen to wonder if Laurent even enjoyed them. Laurent had been bookish as a boy, before he had re-formed himself.

“he should be at the (afterschool dungeons and dragons) club”

Laurent dealt with the danger of the okton by simply behaving as though it did not exist.

that tracks externally, but i also think that inside laurent’s brain he does acknowledge it, he just has a precise threshold of acceptable risk

Instinct reacted before thought. The spear was driving towards his chest; Damen caught it out of the air, his hand closing hard around the shaft, the momentum of it wrenching his shoulder back. He absorbed it, tightening his grip with his thighs to keep himself in the saddle.

this would be even more impressive if it was not the solution to a dangerous situation you ACTIVELY MADE HAPPEN

All his attention was on the other spear, flying towards Laurent. His heart jammed in his throat. On the other side of the course, Pallas was frozen. In that stricken moment of choice, Pallas could only decide whether to dodge and risk his cowardice killing a prince, or stand his ground and receive a spear to the throat. His fate was tied to Laurent’s, and unlike Damen, he had no recourse for what to do. Laurent knew it. Like Damen, Laurent had seen it early—had seen the strut collapse, had judged the outcome. In the handful of extra seconds that this afforded him, Laurent acted without hesitation. He released his reins—and as Damen watched, as the spear flew right for him—he jumped, not out of the way, but into the path of the spear, leaping from his horse to Pallas’s, dragging them both to the left. Pallas swayed, shocked, and Laurent bodily kept him down low in the saddle. The spear sailed past them and landed in the tufted grass like a javelin.

an akielion wouldn’t think to do THAT, would they!!

(also, love the little parallel to prince’s gambit, with damen ripping the grate out of the wall and laurent’s meticulous scheming. here it’s not as much a competition as it is a mutual/cooperative victory, with damen stopping the javelin mid-air and laurent intelligently evading the other one headed towards him)

The crowd went wild. Laurent ignored it. Laurent reached down and neatly filched Pallas’s last spear for himself. And, keeping Pallas’s horse at a gallop—as the sounds of the crowd swelled to a crescendo—he threw it, sending it flying right into the centre of the final target. Completing the okton one spear ahead of Pallas and of Damen, Laurent drew his horse up in a little circle, and met Damen’s gaze, his pale brows rising, as if to say, ‘Well?’ Damen grinned. He hefted the spear he had caught, and from where he was on the far side of the course, threw; let it go sailing over the full, impossible length of the field, to thunk into the target alongside Laurent’s spear, where it rested, quivering. Pandemonium.

they are both That Bitch. perfect for each other, and now everyone knows it (kinda) <3

After, they crowned each other with laurels.

cute

There was a warmth in his chest whenever he looked at Laurent. He didn’t look often for that reason.

Their men would ride out unified, and if there was a crack down the centre, no one knew about it. He and Laurent were good at pretending.

no they’re not. they’re just becoming more entertaining and endearing than annoying and frustrating, so people are more likely to listen to them

Laurent took his place on one of the lounging couches like he was born to it. Damen sat alongside him.

and all was right with the universe

The whole room went silent. Makedon and Laurent faced one another. The silence stretched out. ‘You have the mind of a snake,’ Makedon said. ‘You have the mind of an old bull,’ said Laurent. They stared at one another. After a long moment, Makedon waved at the slave, who came forward with a fat-bellied bottle of Akielon spirits and two shallow cups. ‘I will drink with you,’ said Makedon.

i love this unlikely friendship. laurent is being socialized like a feral kitten

Laurent glanced at the wine that the slave had poured, and Damen knew with absolute certainty that if it was wine, Laurent wasn’t going to drink. Damen braced himself for the moment when every scrap of goodwill that Laurent had garnered for himself was thrown away—as every tenet of Akielon hospitality was insulted, and Makedon swept forever out of the hall. Laurent picked up the cup in front of him, drained it, then returned it to the table. Makedon gave a slow nod of approval, lifted his own cup, downed it. And said, ‘Again.’

extremely loud airhorn goes off SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

Later, when a great many overturned cups scattered the low table, Makedon leaned forward and told Laurent he must try griva, the drink from his own region, and Laurent downed it and said it tasted like swill, and Makedon said, ‘Ha, ha, true!’ Later, Makedon told the story of his first games, when Ephagin won the okton, and the bannermen grew misty-eyed, and everyone had another drink. Later, everyone roared when Laurent was able to balance three empty cups on top of each other, while Makedon’s cups fell over.

is this just what frat parties are like?

Laurent maintained a scrupulous posture until they were all gone, his eyes dilated, his cheeks slightly flushed. Damen spread his arm over the back of his own seat and waited. After a long moment, Laurent said, ‘I’m going to need some help standing up.’

i love that damen just Waited. he knew. he wanted laurent to admit it. they’re so funny

He wasn’t expecting to receive Laurent’s full weight, but he did, a warm arm slung around his neck, and he was suddenly breathless with the feeling of Laurent in his arms. His hands came up to steady Laurent’s waist, his heart behaving strangely. It was sweetly, impossibly illicit. He felt the ache in his chest. Damen said, ‘The Prince and I are retiring,’ and waved the lingering slaves out. ‘It’s this way,’ said Laurent. ‘Probably.’

‘Is today the first time you’ve been beaten in an okton?’ ‘Technically, it was a draw,’ said Damen. ‘Technically. I told you I was quite good at riding. I used to beat Auguste all the time when we raced at Chastillon. It took me until I was nine to realise he was letting me win. I just thought I had a very fast pony. You’re smiling.’ He was smiling.

drunk laurent happily telling damen about auguste :’) also the “you’re smiling” is so adorable, i love how we’re getting some dorky soft laurent finally. he contains multitudes. this, like, “suddenly aware that he’s being cute and appreciated for it, slightly indignant but also allowing it because it’s damen who thinks he’s cute” thing is wonderful and tbh i hope i can someday allow myself to be like that too :)

‘Am I talking too much? I can’t hold alcohol at all.’ ‘I can see that.’ ‘It’s my fault. I never drink. I should have realised I’d need to, with men like these, and made an effort to . . . build up some sort of tolerance . . .’ He was serious. ‘Is that how your mind works?’ said Damen. ‘And what do you mean, you never drink?

drunk laurent is so funny. and i love how damen is amused, endeared, and absolutely fascinated by the inner workings of this man. me too.

also, it's insane that laurent would ever ask if he's talking too much. taking too much is like his entire thing

side note: this is 100% how i am when i use any kind of mind-altering substances, like a sedative before a root canal. i remember detailing how i felt in my notes app at the time and then reading it later and being both impressed by the determination to remain incoherent and amused by the inserted notes of “why am i laughing” “why is everything funny”

You were drunk the first night I met you.’ ‘I made an exception,’ said Laurent, ‘that night. Two and a half bottles. I had to force myself to get it down. I thought it would be easier drunk.’ ‘You thought what would be easier?’ said Damen. ‘“What”?’ said Laurent. ‘You.’ Damen felt the hairs rise over his whole body. Laurent said it softly, and as though it was obvious, his blue eyes a little hazy, his arm still around Damen’s neck. They were gazing at one another, halted in the half-light of the passage. ‘My Akielon bed slave,’ said Laurent, ‘named for the man who killed my brother.’

“no shit, i got drunk”

It wasn’t unusual for two young men to wander the halls together, swaying, after a revel—even among princes—and Damen could pretend for a moment that they were what they seemed to be: brothers in arms. Friends.

you guys got publicly married-divorced and laurent told an entire army that you fucked each other multiple times. you wear matching arm cuffs. even your horses are in love. be so serious rn

The guards on either side of the entrance were too well trained to react to the presence of royalty leaning all over each other.

They Pretend They Do Not See It (not an HR complain bc they’re not really bothering anyone or breaking rules)

‘No one is to enter,’ Damen ordered the guards. He was aware of the implication—Damianos entering a bedchamber with a young man in his arms and ordering everyone out—and he ignored it. If Isander suddenly had a startling reason why the frigid Prince of Vere had foregone his services, so be it.

oh nooooo what a shame if isander backed off from your man, what an unintended and unfortunate consequence, oh nooooooo

Laurent, intensely private, would not want his household present while he dealt with the effects of a night’s worth of drinking.

just got a vision of laurent as heather chandler in the hangover/death scene. wearing that cunty little robe and talking shit

Laurent was going to wake with a blinding headache fuelling his corrosive tongue, and pity anyone who ran into him then. As for Damen, he was going to give Laurent a push in the small of his back and send him staggering the four steps to the bed. Damen unlooped Laurent’s arm from his neck, disengaged himself. Laurent took a step under his own power, and lifted a hand to his jacket, blinking. ‘Attend me,’ Laurent said, unthinkingly. ‘For old time’s sake?’ said Damen. It was a mistake to say that. He stepped forward and put his hands on the ties of Laurent’s jacket. He began to draw the ties from their moorings. He felt the curve of Laurent’s ribcage as the tie threaded through its eye. The jacket tangled at Laurent’s wrist. It took some effort to get it off, disordering Laurent’s shirt. Damen stopped, his hands still inside the jacket.

Under the fine fabric of Laurent’s shirt, Paschal had bound Laurent’s shoulder to strengthen it. He saw it with a pang. It was something Laurent would not have let him see sober, a keen breach of privacy. He thought of sixteen spears thrown, with a constant effort of arm and shoulder, after rough exertion the day before.

fuck, that’s right. damn laurent

Damen took a step back, said: ‘Now you can say you were served by the King of Akielos.’ ‘I could say that anyway.’

he may be white girl wasted but he’s still our laurent

Lamp-lit, the room was filled with orange light, revealing its simple furnishings, the low chairs, the wall table with its bowl of fresh-picked fruit.

this time, the fruit basket guy just showed the kitchen staff a bunch of ao3 fics tagged “in vino veritas” and told them to make it work

Laurent was a different presence in his white undershirt.

makes him sound like a cryptid. blonde man jumpscare

They were gazing at each other.

we know.

‘I miss you,’ said Laurent. ‘I miss our conversations.’

he would not have admitted this under torture

(also, i really like how he misses their conversations first and foremost. laurent really does love damen for his mind and heart, more than anything else. damen is the same, but he's a lot more vocally into the other parts of laurent too)

It was too much. He remembered being strapped to the post and half killed; sober, Laurent had made the line very clear, and he was aware that he had crossed it, they both had.

damen is still afraid to potentially take advantage of laurent, especially because of what happened the first time laurent interpreted his advances in such a light (ow)

‘You’re drunk,’ said Damen. ‘You’re not yourself.’ He said, ‘I should take you to bed.’ ‘Then, take me,’ said Laurent.

Laurent lay where Damen put him, on his back in a half-open shirt, his hair tumbled, his expression unguarded. His knee was pushed out to the side, his breathing was slow as one in sleep, the thin fabric of his shirt lay against his skin, rising and falling with it. ‘You don’t like me like this?’

first thing, good for him. second thing, not good for him, because trauma, and the fact that he sees himself as a sexual object (i went a lot more into this during the chapter 7 re-analysis)

‘You’re really . . . not yourself.’ ‘Aren’t I?’

i do think damen means this as a “you could punish me for taking advantage,” but i also think there is the fact that damen doesn’t want a version of laurent who isn’t in his right mind (like slaves, who aren’t given the ability to have minds of their own). this calls back to the whole “you like it simple” thing in chapter 7, and it’s pretty satisfying to see damen prove laurent wrong!

‘I tried to kill you. I can’t seem to go through with it. You keep overturning all my plans.’

said with hearts in his eyes <3

Damen found a water pitcher and poured water into a shallow cup that he brought to the low table by Laurent’s bed. Then he emptied the fruit bowl of fruit and put it on the floor alongside, to be used as a drunk soldier might use an empty helmet.

THEY WORKED HARD ON THAT THEMATICALLY RELEVANT FRUIT BASKET >:( although perhaps this is its true thematic relevance? a means of damen helping laurent care for himself in recovery?

‘Laurent. Sleep it off. In the morning, you can punish us both. Or forget this ever happened. Or pretend to.’ He did all of this quite adeptly,

at least he’s getting more self-aware about his own blind spots, or at least his ability to have them

Laurent, falling through scattered thoughts into sleep, said, ‘Yes, uncle.’

i think this line honestly might have been a step too far. not necessarily because it’s a bad thing for laurent to say, i get that it makes sense for him to associate this kind of vulnerability with [redacted], and it’s even possible that laurent doesn’t drink now because the regent got him drunk before he [redacted].

why i think it miiiiiiight not work, is the fact that damen doesn’t oh fuck wait i JUST made note of a line where damen acknowledges how he can “quite adeptly” ignore things, literally a few sentences ago. i can’t even say he would have noticed, or made note of it, because that is his character. and the irony is like right there on the page. it’s frustrating to read, but it’s an intentional choice. well played as usual!

#we are so fucking back #sam reads capri #capri #captive prince #kings rising #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #lamen

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monarchofthequeerpotatoes · 2 months

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intro :3

the basics

hello! my name is iris. you can call me whatever nicknames you want (some people call me rissie) but my name doesn't really lend itself to nicknames haha

i use he/she/any neos/they pronouns in order of preference! (and yes, this does mean you may choose whatever neos you think suit me. please do not exclusively call me they/them.)

i love meeting people and making new friends :D but i can be a little awkward

im bi with a preference for guys and probably aspec

i do moodboards based off people's names!!! if you want one just send an ask and if you have multiple names tell me which one you want :333

dni

adults privately

homophobes, transphobes, racists, zionists, etc

exclusively nsfw blogs

pro ana/pro sh blogs (ed/sh blogs can interact. i have the tags blocked. you may vent to me, what triggers me is spo/sh pics/stuff along those lines)

byi

i will try to tag whatever you need. remind me if i don't. please tag rape/sa, blood, emeto, and ed/sh content if we're moots :)

i don't have opinions on most discourse stuff (except for the obvious stuff in my dni). if your opinions on syscourse, shipcourse, radqueers or any of that stuff are so strong that you can't interact with someone who doesn't share exactly the same ones…don't interact i guess? idc about anyone with any opinions regarding that stuff interacting with me but don't be mean to my moots who have opposite opinions.

i am neurodivergent (diagnosed audhd + probably some other stuff) and might be a lil awkward

im quite affectionate (if i comfort you i might call you love or sweetheart and i'll probably tell you you're pretty if a photo of you comes up on my dash. i mean this platonically unless explicitly otherwise stated and i'll stop if you tell me to)

my dms are also open to any of my moots who aren't adults :) come!! ask me random questions!! send me photos of your cats!! tell me about that new song you heard or place you went!!! tell me how you're not doing great or how you're feeling better!! i care.

i have bad rsd. please use tone indicators and avoid making me think you're mad at me unless you are (i am one of those people who thinks everyone hates me and i am an imposter everywhere i go blablabla)

im happy to participate in tag games but i usually open tag

you are supported, accepted, and safe on this blog <333 ily

stuff i like

blue=favs

music (in random order i just. add new artists in the middle idk why. yes crispin you are in this no you cant argue) - will wood (and the tapeworms), billie eilish, fontaines d.c, kendrick lamar, alex g, car seat headrest, taylor swift, the moldy peaches, chappell roan, olivia rodrigo, conan gray, jolie holland, radiohead, declan mckenna, hozier, lana, noahfinnce, yungblud, beabadoobee, frank ocean, @outlying-hyppocrate, boygenius, nirvana, cavetown, sam fender

books/tv/film- osemanverse (including the heartstopper show), studio ghibli, young royals, across the spiderverse, good omens, anything to do with the moomins

general interests- animals, etymology, reading, greek mythology, pikas, tea, bjj, drawing

🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️

userboxes under cut

#iris ✮⋆˙#iris intro!

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makerofmadness · 1 year

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What's with Balloon Boy and the Daycare Attendant?

The Balloon World arcade machine exists, it's in the DA's room and both characters are involved in it. It's probably one of the most cryptic minigames in the FNAF series as a whole, but while we could ponder what exactly it's supposed to mean (maybe I'll do that for all the security breach minigames eventually), the main question I have is this:

WHY Balloon Boy specifically? Why is the minigame about HIM?

Is there a connection between the two characters? Or was it a completely random decision?

Out of nowhere, thinking about Balloon World, I came to a realization:

The Lights.

Balloon Boy's entire gimmick in FNAF 2 was that if he got into your office, he would disable your flashlight and vent lights (...somehow. I know we all make the jokes about him taking the batteries [and then that FNAF 57: Freddy In Space thing in FNAF World said he just straight-up steals your entire flashlight], but you never see the battery icon disappear or appear empty in FNAF 2 itself when he gets into your office. And the vent lights also stop working, so unless they also operate on batteries, then... does he actually take them from you?).

What's the one rule in the daycare?

Keep the lights on.

His mechanic is the antithesis to what Sun wants and exactly what Moon would want. Balloon Boy doesn't keep the lights on. He prevents you from turning them on at all.

(which also makes me kinda sad there wasn't a Glamrock version of BB. Then again, I don't know how exactly he would've uniquely affected like anything. Regardless I am hoping for the day someone in the fandom makes a glamrock bb who is arch-enemies with sun and gets along well with moon skseijdndndnd-)

It feels kinda obvious and I'm guessing I'm not the only person to think about this, but I have never seen anyone else bring this up. Not on YouTube, not on tumblr, nowhere. Maybe if I go looking for it I'll see, but i'm surprised I haven't bumped into anyone else saying this just naturally. I go into the BB tags a LOT, surely SOMEONE would've said something, right? I don't even see it noted in the trivia on the page for the arcade game on the fnaf wiki.

...but is this supposed to mean anything? Or is it just a cute little reference or callback? it's hard to say, especially with how ambiguous the minigame is.

Though I DID think of ONE thing... (possible minor spoilers for Ruin under the cut):

Saw this pointed out in a youtube video that the BB World screen (with Eclipse, who makes their proper debut in Ruin after effectively being foreshadowed by the minigame in SB's base game) can be seen on the ceiling in the DA's room. Which makes sense, obviously, but also take note of the pirate-themed windows in the hallway leading to it.

...now, which character do most of us tend to associate with Balloon Boy? His "tag-team partner," of sorts?

Foxy. The Pirate.

With this, I found that there's more Foxy-related stuff associated with the daycare area than I had previously realized because I had never made any connections before. I mean, Kids' Cove is directly linked to it for god's sake.

Like. I hope i haven't forgotten to mention anything (I've been writing this post over the course of hours 'Cus I had stuff to do in the middle of it all). My brain's kinda starting to fry. But basically: Was Foxy originally meant to be the Daycare Attendant, in-universe? Was there gonna be a Glamrock Balloon Boy with him, like as his first mate or something??? Were they gonna be connected to Fazbear Theater????? (Uh basically Sun/Moon to my knowledge from confirmation in the books and a lot of more subtle implications in-game mainly involving environmental pieces were originally meant to be in the Fazbear Theater as a stage animatronic but got moved to daycare duty instead and being reprogrammed. Which actually explains a lot about them when you think about it-)

Like. Ok I'm forgetting where I was going with this, I'm sorry, but I guess it's food for thought/adds to the weird connections between DA and BB, I guess. Idk. I can't focus that well right now to keep making new ideas.

felt like sharing my interpretation of the Balloon World minigame itself at least since earlier I did kinda finally get it down concretely:

I kinda developed a theory that Eclipse is Sun/Moon's "safe mode" and that rebooting DA reactivated Eclipse as a result. Like, they're their own AI that was at one point implemented. but then Vanny happened and locked them out thanks to the whole Glitchtrap virus thing (albeit it only seemed to reach Moon, while Sun remains seemingly unaffected. Guessing it's because they're different AIs [finally implied/basically confirmed by their Ruin dialogue). Eclipse has seemingly not been active for some time, or at least never post-pizzaplex closure, given how they're seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that this place is closed with no signs of opening.

So the minigame was foreshadowing Eclipse's existence and implying their "trapped" nature, which also could be seen as paralleling Vanessa's whole "Vanny" situation, especially given how iirc one of the messages related to princess quest can be found near the arcade machine.

#This post kinda crumbled toward the end but I hope it's still interesting enough :'3 #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf ruin #fnaf eclipse #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #daycare attendant #balloon boy

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mariejordans · 8 months

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i honestly don’t even know where to begin with this post, so i guess i’ll start with hi! sorry, i’ve been gone so long, though probably most of you didn’t even notice i was gone lol. sorry for not giving any warning to my absence, and i am especially sorry to the mutuals who have reached out to me that i haven’t responded to. i was and still am struggling with anxiety and depression and towards the new year it was getting to be a bit much for me, so i decided to take a mental health break from social media.

i’d honestly been contemplating coming back, but today i received a dm from someone with a link to a post that was accusing me of bullying and creating fake accounts to bully other people in this fandom. first of all, i would like to emphasize that this is not true. attached below is a screenshot of all the blogs that i own (EDIT 2/9/24: i have since deleted the screenshot for my own privacy and i believe that since i made this post, there has been more than enough evidence to clear my name.) milfsociety is my main account, which i have linked before on this blog and many of my mutuals also follow me on my main, and the rest of them are just me saving my old usernames or other sideblogs that i rarely use, but all of them have been inactive for two months at least.

i do NOT condone bullying ever, and to be continually accused of it by this person is very disheartening. it started with this post (seen below) that i made back in november after seeing a post discrediting marie as the main character of gen v. i admit that my language was probably a bit harsher than was necessary, but honestly my intention was not to send hate to op (which is why i never tagged it with any gen v related tags) but to defend marie. it also wasn’t meant to be solely specific to this one person but as a general post because at the time, there were lots of accounts discrediting marie and to be honest, i was just kinda venting bc of how sick of it i was. (also, just to mention, i have intentionally left out their username because the last thing i want is to send hate to this person.) this was the only post i made on the topic and later i heard that apparently op blocked me afterward (which does not offend me in the slightest since i have since done the same thing) so this honestly should have been the end of it.

i honestly hadn’t given this post a second thought until a little under a month later i received this ask out of nowhere, accusing me of ableism and bullying. i replied to this ask, which i will link here. honestly this ask came as a complete shock to me, because i had honestly forgotten all about my previous post.

i responded to anon and in the reply i apologized to their friend for my hurtful comments and expressed that it was never my intention to attack anyone, especially anyone with a disability, which i did not know about when i initially made the first post. i also explained my side, stating why i made the post in the first place, which i still stand by. originally, i had linked their post in my reply, which in hindsight was a mistake that i regret and i should’ve known better. again, my last intention ever is to spread hate and negativity or to bully anyone, so i deleted the link when i was asked by a third party. this person has also since deleted that post about marie entirely.

shortly after i posted the reply, i guess i can only assume that whoever anon was told them about the reply. i’m honestly not sure if they’ve ever actually read this reply or not, but they made a response to my reply, accusing me of harassment and bullying. honestly, it really confused me at the time, since i’d only made two posts in reference to them, and one was a reply to an ask, but we ended up having a third party account who was mutuals with both of us acting as a mediator to settle things and i genuinely wanted to move on from the situation. we both had each other blocked and it seemed to me that anon was just trying to instigate more drama between us, so i thought it best to just leave it at that. i was also going through some mental health issues at the time (unrelated to this situation even though it didn’t help) and had been considering taking a break from tumblr, and so i thought it would be best to just go inactive for a while.

this is honestly the first time i’ve used tumblr in the two months since i’ve been gone, so i have no idea what else has been happening regarding any other blogs and this person, but apparently i am being named as the sole instigator here and i just wanted to once and for all clear up this issue and my name. i’m honestly not sure if this person will see this post or if they’ll even accept it as truth. i can’t force them or anyone to believe me as i really don’t know what else i’d have to do to prove that i don’t have any other secret accounts other than making this post.

i will probably continue to be inactive on this account as i think it is in everyone’s best interest. i never wanted to contribute or start any drama in this fandom, but i feel like i am partially responsible in how this situation has turned out, so i would also like to apologize to you all as well. i’ve never had an account of mine get as big as this one has (thank you to everyone who liked and supported my silly little ramblings!) and i can honestly say i have had the best time interacting and fangirling with you all about this show and these characters that i love so much and i will continue to enjoy and love gen v and marie from afar!

goodbye for now,

rose (aka mariejordans)

#gen v #heronamedhawks #update this user is actually a racist transphobic piece of shit so please block them and do not give them any more of your attention

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