#also I hope putting this on ship tag is fine?

[i-dont-r3member]

ahahahahahaha so it looks like KOSA passed that’s cool that’s just fine ahahahaha

worried? what are you talking about I’m totally not worried at all wdym *runs to ao3 to download fics before it gets slammed*

[sexlapis]

Ho! I loooooooveeee your actor toji fics! Is it possible to get added to the taglist? Thank you ~

Also an idea: a bts scene of reader getting sick on set(perhaps even collapsing) due to fatigue and toji taking care of them- I feel like that'd be such a hit ship moment irl :D

thank you for liking my fics <3 you can be added to the tag list 🩵.

and omg yeah i love that idea of reader overworking themselves and toji looking after them :’). and yeah i didn’t make it a behind the scenes clip i made a short fic abt it bc i do not know when to stop.. like give me an idea and i will fly away w it like a bird liek..i don’t even think this is what you asked for srsly…i hope you don’t mind (but i’ll add it to my tojiyn headcanons hehe)

cw: actor toji x actress reader, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, swearing, petnames (‘kid’, ik people don’t like this one but i think it’s so sweet & so toji :)), collapsing, mentions of skipping meals/not eating, poor sleeping habits, feelings of loneliness & inadequacy, crying, toji taking care of reader, i made this way more angsty than you asked sorry :(

wc: 2k+

you dragged yourself through the doors of the studio, immediately bombarded by directors, stylists, scrip writers and other cast members on your way to the dressing room, only fuelling your fatigue and stress.

sleep was a foreign concept at this point. five hours at most. so were healthy, filling meals - the last time you ate was yesterday at noon, and for breakfast today all you had was a cup of coffee, not helping your nervous, exhausted state.

admittedly, you were not doing very well. you felt that your acting was subpar and you felt lonely and isolated on set. while everyone went with their friends for a break or lunch, you sat by yourself in your dressing room, your only company being the silence.

sure, toji was also on set too, but he played a very minor role, so he wasn’t always there. and even when he was sometimes, he would hang out with the other crew members, which wasn’t a problem of course, but it did sting a little when he chose them over you.

you just felt so lonely, anxious and quite frankly upset at yourself and the circumstances you find yourself in.

there are a few knocks at your dressing room door and you weakly tell them to come in.

toji peeks is head in. “hey, kid. we start in five..” he takes a look at your weary face, dark eye bags prominent even through the makeup the stylists caked on and the frown on your lips and just knows something is wrong.

“are you ‘right?” he asks quietly, like you’re a deer who’s about to run away at the slightest of sounds.

“yes, i’m fine.” you lie, a voice in the back of your mind wishing he’d just ignore you like everyone else on this damn set does.

“‘you sure? ‘cause you don’t look-”

“i said im fine! just get out.” you snap, heart beating and breathing heavily at your own outburst.

fuck. you didn’t mean to say that.

but toji doesn’t look offended. he just nods and walks away footsteps fading as you put your head in your hands and sob.

so there you are, acting in front of the camera with your colleague in a scene where toji appears in too and you just seem off. everyone assumes it’s just not your day today and they’re not exactly wrong. you lines were slightly forced, tired and you were jittery and clearly apprehensive, like you didn’t even want to be here.

“cut!” the director calls out, more than annoyed with your behaviour. it was the sixth take and you’re really trying to make it believable, but it’s futile.

“this is the sixth take _____. this is ridiculous. get your act together. let’s take five.”

you look down at your shoes, face hot and chest thudding with embarrassment due to the director calling you out in front of everybody. tears well up in your eyes and you sigh, blinking them away as everyone starts talking again, walking away leaving you standing there like an idiot.

it all becomes too much for you. your empty stomach, oncoming headache, exhausted body, dry mouth, furrowed eyebrows, sweaty palms-

you let your script fall out of your hand as you stumble off the green screen, trying to get to your room before a hand is grabbing your arm. you turn around and it’s toji again.

“hey..” he leans down slightly to your height, scanning you over once. “you don’t look so good, _____-”

you shrug him off, vision becoming blurred with black static and limbs heavy and shaky. “i-i jus’ need to go. to my..uhm-” you stop, rubbing a hand down your face harshly. “i just-”

and then there is black.

౨ৎ

you come to and realise that you are laying on your dressing room couch, staring up at the ceiling. reaching up, you feel a wet, cool cloth on your head. you take it off. still fuzzy and body essentially lethargic, you try to sit up.

“hey, hey, hey.” toji whispers.

oh, toji’s here.

“take it easy.” he helps you sit up on the arm of the couch. he hands you a bottle of water and you drink it like a god.

“wait, what happened?” you ask, still confused and disoriented.

“you fuckin’ fainted that’s what,” he states bluntly. “scared the fuckin’ dogshit outta me.”

“oh.”

toji sits beside you on a chair, looking at you closely. you look down.

“the med team checked you out.” he tells you. “said you fainted, collapsed-whatever the fuck. ‘cos of stress and exhaustion. they even checked your blood sugar and said it was low as fuck.” he pauses. “not dangerously low,” he adds at the sight of your worried expression, “but.. low enough.”

you sigh, falling back on the couch. you think back to how the director shouted at you, how annoyed he was, and how humiliated you felt. tears start to form again and you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to cry in front of toji. you felt like you’ve had enough embarrassment for today.

toji leans forward. “what’s happening with you?”

the way he said it, so soft and concerned, makes the tears fall down and cause sobs to escape your mouth, hiccuped breaths falling from your mouth.

“hey, hey, hey..” toji coos. he reaches to you and makes you sit up again so he can take you into his arms. you let him, sobbing into his shoulder and sucking up all the comfort he gives you. toji’s big hand strokes your hair and the other caresses your back softly.

“shh, sh, sh…” he calms you down a little, you sobs turning into sniffles. he leans back and gives you space but his hands stay planted on your back. “tell toji what’s wrong.”

you hum sadly, looking down and gulping. “i’m..i’m tired. i wanna sleep..”

toji waits for you to continue. he can see you want to say more so he doesn’t hurry you along, he just rubs your back and nods to let you know you’re listening.

“i..” you take a breath, “i dunno what to do..i can’t do this fucking role.. i’m fucking tired half the fucking day and my so called colleagues don’t even like me!” you try to calm yourself down, taking another shaky breath. “and i just feel..lonely all the time..” you cry out the last few words, feeling another sob session coming up and toji pulls you close, letting you ruin his shirt with your tears as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“it’s okay, it’s okay..” he coos, resting his face in your hair.

you both stay like that for a few moments, you weeps dying down before toji talks.

“you can play this part, _____. ‘you have any idea how good your are, huh? you can act circles around half ‘these guys.”

you scoff, pulling your lips together. “i dunno about that..”

“‘m serious. _____, you can act, okay? ‘wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t.”

“yeah but..this one’s hard..” you sigh, voice cracking but toji doesn’t let you start again.

“yeah, acting’s hard. but i can help you,” toji cups your wet face with his hands, wiping the tear streaks that paint you face, “we can all help you. the crew, your friends, that bitchass director. i’ll put a gun to everyone’s head to make them fuckin’ help you with this.”

you giggle at his seriousness and he huffs, relieved that you’re relaxing a little.

“they don’t hate you, y’know. everybody on set. the cast. they just think you’re a little shy and quiet. they don’t hate you, okay?” toji reassures you. you nod absentmindedly and he shakes your head from side to side to make you pay attention, making you smile, eyes crinkling even though they’re still tear stricken. “there she is..who the fuck could hate you, huh?”

“ugh, toji.” you roll your eyes, sniffling and rubbing your face. you pull away from him. “ugh..i just want my bed right now.”

“yeah..i know it ain’t my place but told the director that you’re taking a few days off. you need a break, kid.”

you didn’t even argue with him. you couldn’t.

“yeah, i do.” you agree.

suddenly, a loud rumble from your stomach erupts, it was like an earthquake.

toji laughs. “someone’s hungry.”

you groan. “‘m starving. haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“we’re getting you something to eat.” he states, leaving no room for objections.

toji stands, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, his large, calloused hand dwarfing yours as he helps you stand up. “can you walk?”

“i will if there’s food involved.”

“that’s good.” toji chuckles, “how’s takeout sound?”

a/n: had to write a whole fic abt this i apologise 🥸 will add the tag list later i just keep forgetting the users </3

[a-killer-obsession]

I kinda wanna see 17 with an F and a W if you have time and inspiration~

Will You?

Prompt: First Time + Body Worship Additional Tags: virgin!reader, afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (receiving and brief giving), p in v sex, protected sex, use of ‘goddess’, reader is a strawhat, pretend Barto isn't almost 8 foot kay? WC: 4.1k

Event Masterlist

Dressrosa had been perhaps the most difficult battle you had ever been a part of, but with the help of Luffy's new allies it had been a victory, and now everyone was able to enjoy a celebratory drink on the deck of the Barto Club, which was now officially a part of Luffy's new fleet. Luffy wasn't happy with the idea of having subordinates, but he was pleased to have so many new friends, and so were you. You sat with a group of them, mostly your own crew but many of the new faces as well, sharing drinks and laughing over a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’.

The game had started tame, mostly silly things like never have I ever farted and blamed it on someone else, never have I ever poured a drink on a stranger, everyone drinking whenever the prompt applied to them, but as the night went on and people got drunker, the prompts turned more sexual in nature. For most of the group it was good fun, but you were painfully inexperienced with these things, never having gone further than a heated makeout session at a party when you were still a teenager. It wasn't that you didn't have needs or desires, you were just unbearably shy about it, having been raised in a conservative family that drilled a sense of taboo into you. You could have asked someone on your crew, but you felt uncomfortable with the idea of having to see them on a daily basis if you weren't in a relationship. You weren't against the idea of a fuck buddy or a fling, but you got flustered easily, so you didn't want it to be with someone you were close to. It didn't leave you with many options, since sailing with Luffy was so chaotic it usually left no room to explore. You wished Kuma had sent you somewhere more useful on that front during the two years you'd been away from the crew, but you'd spent your time with essentially an army of children, barely seeing any other adults at all for two whole years.

The captain of the ship you were on, Bartolomeo the Cannibal, had been paying close attention to you throughout the game. He was somewhat of a Straw Hat superfan, his ship even featured Luffy as a figurehead, and among the Straw Hat women he found himself most attracted to you. You were an unreachable object for him though, a goddess in his eyes, so he watched you fondly from afar with no hope that he would ever have a taste of you. He was fine with that, he very much enjoyed just being in your presence, seeing you smile and soaking up your laughter. He noticed though, as the questions turned more risky, that you stopped drinking. He wondered if you were too shy to answer, or if you truthfully hadn't done any of those things. He would never embarrass you by bringing attention to it though, he had too much respect for you. The same couldn't be said for Zoro though, who had also noticed.

“Oi, [y/n],” he laughed, half drunk, “you're supposed to drink when you've done the thing, you ain't drinkin’!”

“I… haven't done any of these things,” you blushed, folding in on yourself. You weren't proud of your lack of experience, you were a full grown woman, a pirate at that, and you felt like you were lagging behind your peers and it made you self conscious. Not that there was anything wrong with not having sex, Luffy didn't participate because he had no interest, everyone knew that, but you felt ashamed of yourself because you were interested, you just lacked the courage to do anything about it. There was an awkward silence amongst the group and Barto felt terrible for you, if he wasn't such a fan of Zoro he would have fought him for putting you on the spot like that.

“There's no shame in not wanting sex,” Barto broke the silence, trying to come to your aid, “not everyone has those desires. There's no need to feel ashamed, [y/n]-senpai.”

“Eh?” Zoro huffed, “but I hear you talking about how hot dudes are all the time!”

You felt like Zoro was targeting you at this point, even if he didn't mean to, he was just a very direct person. “I… it's not that I don't want to,” you mumbled, “I just haven't…”

“You're a virgin, [y/n]?” Nami asked with raised brows, “I never expected that!”

“Can we change the subject please,” you whined, “I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

“Of course, [y/n]-senpai!” Barto replied, and you breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly came up with another question for the game to move the spotlight. “Never have I ever… eaten food out of the trash!”

You gave Barto a thankful smile at the way he gracefully steered the game away from sexual topics, and he responded with his own sharp smile, a small blush on his face that you would grace him with such a pretty smile meant only for him. Everyone groaned as Luffy expectantly drank, of course he'd eaten out of the trash, nobody was surprised.

You excused yourself from the game not long after as people began to tire and head to bed. Your mind was swimming, you felt so awkward about what had happened, and you wanted so badly to change it. Now that everyone knew your secret, you were more determined than ever to change it. You'd laid in your bed for what felt like an eternity, tossing and turning, trying to figure out what to do, when a thought occurred to you. You were on a ship full of people you wouldn't see again for a long time, if ever. People who idolized you and your crew. This was the perfect opportunity to do something about it, and you had just the person in mind to help. The one who had come to your aid earlier like a knight in shining amour, and just so happened to be exceptionally attractive.

You readied yourself as best you could, showering and shaving practically your entire body and putting on your best panties under your pyjamas. Then you took a deep breath and made your way to the captain's quarters, steadying yourself as you knocked with a shaky hand.

Barto answered swiftly, and you couldn't help but bite your lip at his appearance. He always had his torso on display so you knew he was muscular and tattooed, but it was different now that his arms were exposed too. He was clearly ready for bed, his makeup removed, his mohawk styling gel washed out and green hair set in a bun, with pyjama pants featuring a repeating pattern of the Straw Hat jolly roger set low on his hips, showing off the V that led under the waistband, the trail of green hair below his belly button. He looked surprised to see you, immediately opening his door the whole way with a small blush on his face.

“[Y/n]-senpai, is everything okay?” He asked anxiously.

“I um…” fuck, now that you were here you were struggling to get the words out, “can I come in?” That seemed like as good of a start as any. He moved aside for you and you entered his room, observing the decor as he quietly shut the door, sensing you wanted to speak about something privately. His walls were decorated with pictures of Straw Hats, every wanted poster ever printed, clippings from newspapers, fanart he'd drawn himself. It was adorable, really - for such a scary looking man with a scary reputation, it was adorable how much he loved your crew.

“Did you need something from me?” Barto asked as he stood behind you. You kept your back to him, hoping it would help you be a little braver if you didn't have to look him in the eye.

“Yeah um… this is awkward, sorry,” you mumbled.

“Take your time, [y/n]-senpai,” he replied softly.

“It's… about earlier,” you explained, taking a deep breath, “I… was wondering if you'd… take my virginity.”

Barto was dead silent behind you, and you felt tears of rejection pricking the corners of your eyes, before you finally turned to see Barto was beet red, looking at you like his iris were practically heart shaped. He'd physically stopped breathing, and you had to snap your fingers in front of him to bring him back to reality before he passed out from lack of oxygen. A bulge grew in his pants at the mere concept of even kissing you.

“Barto? Are you okay?” You asked, “you can say no. I just thought… maybe you would like me enough to help me out. I don't want to be scared of sex anymore. But it's okay if you don't want to, I won't be upset at you.”

“But, with me?” Barto squeaked out, “a beautiful goddess like you could have anyone! I'm not worthy!”

You giggled a little at his response, feeling a little more confident because of it. You understood now that he wasn't at risk of rejecting you, he was just overly surprised you would even consider sleeping with him. “Will you show me, Barto?” You asked again, “will you make me feel good? I don't have any experience other than a little kissing, you'll have to guide me.”

“Of- of course, senpai!” He quickly responded, “anything! I'd do anything for you! I'll make you feel so good! I promise!”

“What… what do I do?” You asked him, feeling a little awkward just standing in the middle of his room. He could see how unsure you were, and was worried you would change your mind if he didn't step up and take charge.

“Come lay on the bed with me,” he suggested, “I'll take the lead, you just tell me if you don't like something, or if you want to stop, okay? Or if there's something you want me to do, just tell me. I'll be gentle with you, I promise.”

“Okay,” you replied quietly, taking his offered hand and letting him lead you to his bed. You felt your heart race as you laid beside him, and he held you so gently, pushing the stray hair out of your face as you both lay on your sides facing each other. Barto shuffled closer, his body now pressed against yours, and you made a small needy whimper as you felt his erection against your front, electricity coursing through your body in anticipation and pooling at your core despite the fact he hadn't even kissed you yet. You were so very pent up, you had no doubt he'd have you squirming in no time at all.

“I'm going to kiss you now, okay?” He spoke in hushed words, like he was afraid of spooking you, his mouth so very close to yours. His sharp teeth scared you a little, but you trusted that he wouldn't hurt you. You nodded and closed your eyes, and soon you felt his mouth pressing against yours. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling, returning the pressure as you both set to a slow, tender rhythm and your hands wrapped around his shoulders. His tongue ran over the seam of your lips, silently asking permission, and you parted for him, letting his tongue slip into your mouth and making a quiet moan as it pressed against yours. You felt a throbbing between your legs and rolled your body against him, trying to find friction. He seemed to understand your need as he carefully pulled your thigh to rest over his hip, allowing you to grind against his bulge, which served to make both of you moan. It felt good, so you kept grinding against him, the kiss quickly growing more heated as it became less awkward and you both grew needy.

Barto broke the kiss first, trailing soft pecks along your jawline till he met your neck. He made gentle nips at your skin, not enough to hurt but enough to make you whine at the sensation, occasionally sucking or running his tongue over your skin as he moved down to your collarbone, pulling your shirt neckline out of the way to access it. His hands worked carefully at the buttons on your shirt, until he was able to open it and expose your breasts, rolling you on to your back so he could admire them in all their glory for a moment.

“You're so beautiful, goddess,” he cooed, taking a breast in one hand and groping it gently, running his thumb over your pert nipple. The sensation made your hips roll, Barto now kneeling between your legs as he hovered over you, making a quiet groan as the roll of your hips ground your core against him. He brought his mouth back down, taking the other breast in his mouth and laving it with his tongue, making you moan as he sucked and tugged at your nipple.

“Ah, that feels good,” you moaned, running your hands through the messy loose part of his hair. He kissed and licked across your chest to the other tit, giving it the same tender treatment as the first. You had no doubt your pussy was dripping wet by now, every small movement from Barto making you more aroused and needy for him. He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes as his mouth ventured further south, kissing your soft tummy and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants. You lifted your hips for him and he slid both your pants and panties off, throwing them to the floor. You took the opportunity to fully remove your shirt as well, leaving you entirely bare to him. He felt like he might cum from that sight alone, seeing you laid out on his bed, your soft skin entirely exposed to him, your pussy on display as you spread your legs in a silent plea for him to relieve the tension that was building in you.

“Fuck,” Barto groaned, admiring your body, “you're so fucking beautiful, so incredibly sexy, my perfect goddess.”

“Barto,” you whined, “touch me, please.”

“Of course, goddess,” he replied, flattening himself against the bed with his head between your legs. He kissed your thighs, nuzzling against them, and you could feel the threat of his sharp fangs against your soft skin as he moved. “Gonna make you feel so, so good, goddess.”

You felt like you were going to cum immediately as his thumb made contact with your clit, a sharp whine escaping you as you bucked. He used his hands to spread your labia, rolling your clit with his thumb as his mouth watered at the sight of you, already so very wet for him. He could die happy now, he thought, now that he'd seen your pussy glistening for him. Greedily he brought his mouth to your cunt, groaning into you as he ran his tongue through your folds and tasted your honey. You couldn't contain your moans as he sucked and lapped at your clit, occasionally running his tongue over your entrance, your coil already pulling tight from the stimulation he was giving you. His hair fell out of the bun it'd been tied in as you pulled on it, and he whined at your hands tugging at his hair, as your hips rolled and you rode against his face and tongue, seeking your high that was so very very close. Barto tucked his hand under his chin and toyed with your entrance with just his middle finger, and as he slid it slowly inside you your coil violently snapped. You screamed as you gushed against his tongue, and unknown to you, Barto came as well, making a mess in his pants entirely untouched, so aroused by your sounds and taste that he couldn't help but whine and soil his underwear. He never softened though, too turned on by the promise of deflowering you, his dick twitching eagerly as he waited patiently to be buried inside you.

You barely had time to recover from your orgasm before he was pushing another figure inside you, pumping it in and out of your virgin hole and stretching you slowly. He was being so very careful and patient, not adding a third finger until he was sure he wouldn't hurt you. You were so very wet and relaxed from your orgasm though that it was easy for him to prepare you, still sucking on your clit and occasionally kissing your thighs or tummy.

“Barto,” you whined, “I want you inside me.”

Barto groaned against your cunt and slowly pulled his fingers from you, giving you one last fat stripe with his tongue and sucking your honey off his fingers. You sat up and watched eagerly as he knelt and began to remove his pants. You gasped as his cock sprang free, thicker and longer than you ever thought possible and covered in piercings. You wondered if you should have picked someone smaller for your first time, you struggled to imagine how he was going to fit inside you. He saw the hint of fear on your face and quickly tried to assure you.

“I'll be gentle, I promise,” he said softly, “I won't put it the whole way in if you can't take it, even just a little will feel good.”

Out of curiosity you leaned forward and touched him, the skin on his cock being more velvety than you expected as you made a careful stroke, scared of hurting him because of the piercings. Precum beaded at the tip and you ran your thumb over the slit, collecting the fluid before bringing it to your mouth and licking it off. Barto whined at the lewd motion, and thought he might combust as you leaned further forward, getting on all fours in front of him as you ran your tongue over the head of his cock, savouring the salty taste of his precum and the cum that still coated it a little.

“Oh fuck,” Barto groaned as you experimentally took the head of his cock in your mouth, sucking on it like it was a popsicle and bobbing your head back and forth a little. You weren't confident that you could take more than a few inches, and he was so thick that your lips struggled to stretch around him, so you stroked the rest of his shaft with your hand. He wrapped his hand around yours, guiding you to add more pressure and speed, and you caught on quickly. “Just like that, oh fuck just like that. That feels so fucking good.”

The way you were looking up at him with wide doe eyes, like you were trying to confirm you were doing a good job, had him ready to cum again. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he'd ever see your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, and he was committing the sight to his memory. You pulled off his cock with a pop, your pussy feeling so very empty, desperate to feel him inside you. “Want you, Barto,” you mewled.

“I'll give you what you want, goddess,” he hummed, “lay on your back again for me, beautiful.”

You did as he asked, while Barto hurriedly leaned over to his side table and fumbled through the top drawer. He pulled a condom from it and quickly put it on, and you spread your legs wide for him as he settled between them, biting your lip in anticipation.

“You sure about this?” He asked you, “we don't have to go the whole way if you don't want to.”

“I want it, please,” you begged, “I want it so bad. Fill me Barto, please.”

You mewled as he loomed over you and lined himself up, the fat head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He knew that despite all his preparation, you would still hurt a little as he entered you, having never been stretched so far before and knowing he was hardly small. “It's going to hurt a little at first, but I promise it won't be for long, okay?” He cooed. You gave him a nervous nod and he leaned down to kiss you, giving you a distraction from the stinging pain as he slid inside you. You wove your hand through his hair and gripped hard for support, the nails of your other hand digging into his back. Little by little he buried his length into you, until he met his base, fully sheathed inside your cunt.

“There you go, goddess,” Barto purred, “you took all of me, you're so incredible. Tell me when you feel okay for me to move, okay?”

“Mmm,” you hummed back, feeling the sting fade to pleasure, every inch of you filled by his impressive cock. Every tiny adjustment he made pressed against sensitive areas you didn't even know existed, and soon you were squirming underneath him at the fill alone. “Need- need you to move.” You whined.

He pulled out slowly, only his tip remaining inside you, making you take a sharp inhale that was quickly knocked out of you as he thrust back in. He was slow, but it was such a foreign feeling that you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. He started a steady rhythm of slow, deep thrusts, and your nails nearly broke the skin on his back as your legs wrapped around him, ankles locking against his ass. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you repeated like a mantra as he pumped his cock in and out of you, Barto equally effected by how your gummy walls held him tight as he groaned and whined in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. He kissed you hard and you used your feet to force him to move faster and harder, his pace gradually increasing as you both lost control and your kiss grew sloppy and desperate. Neither of you could be expected to last long like this, and you were moaning loud enough for the whole ship to hear as you broke the kiss, Barto burying his head against your shoulder.

“Ah- so good-” you moaned, holding Barto tight as he started to slam into you at a brutal pace, “fuck, I'm gonna cum again.”

“Cum for me, goddess,” Barto groaned, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin on your neck, “gonna cum too, fuck, you're so tight.”

“I- fuck, Barto~” you went almost silent as your whole body tensed around him, seeing white as you began to tremble, pulling him with you as your pussy clenched around his cock. He gripped the headboard above you hard enough to crack it as he unloaded into the condom, his whole body shaking as he came hard before collapsing against you. You squeezed him tight, not wanting to let go as you panted, nuzzling your face against his in a dizzy afterglow. His warm skin felt so good against yours, you felt like you could stay like this forever.

Barto couldn't though, he needed to discard the condom before he grew too soft, so with a disappointed whine he pulled out. He kissed your mouth softly, then your forehead, holding your face in both hands before getting out of the bed to clean up. As the captain his bedroom had an attached bathroom, and after cleaning himself off he brought a damp cloth to the bedside, cleaning you carefully and pressing kisses to your skin as he worked. He threw the cloth to the floor as you pulled him close and tangled your limbs with his, nuzzling against his tattooed chest while his arms wrapped around you. He pulled the blanket up to cover you both, sensing you were close to falling asleep.

“Can I stay?” You mumbled against his chest.

“Of course,” he kissed your hair, “you can have the whole damn ship if that's what you want, I'd give you the world if you wanted it.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, “you're so sweet. Thank you, Barto. That was nice. I feel… really good.”

“I'm glad,” he replied, resting his head against the top of yours, “I'd do anything for you, [y/n]-senpai, I'd lay down my life. You only need ask. I should be thanking you for allowing me the honour of even being in your presence.”

“You're so goofy, Barto,” you giggled, before letting out a long yawn, “go to sleep, goofball.”

“As you wish, goddess,” he yawned back, sure that he was about to have the best sleep of his life with you in his arms, and also sure that he'd wake up from this dream soon, because it could not possibly be real.

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Taglist: @daydreamer-in-training @chairmanraph @florcxo @luvnistuff @nocturnalrorobin @fanaticsnail

[queermania]

I don't want to start drama and I don't expect you to respond to this but I think you deserve to know what's being said about you. tumblr. com/transfagbenny/738678589192552448/and-id-appreciate-if-we-stopped-using-the-terms

i actually am going to address this because this person has been lying about what's been going on for months and they've apparently been harassing other people for months if not years, so. it's time to put an end to this.

before i start though i want to make it abundantly clear that if you take this as an opportunity to do anything other than block this person, then you are trash. do not send him messages. do not tag him in things. do not harass him in any way. leave him alone. if you need to block, do so and then move on. hate mail and harassment is disgusting behavior and i don't want to be surrounded by anybody who engages in it. and if you do it on my behalf, i think you are worthless and i want nothing to do with you.

so, this is what happened: back in february of 2023, an anon asked me if i had any opinions that would get me canceled with the dean girlies. i replied, "oh now we’re talking!! hmmmm let’s see. i don’t care about benny at all. deanbenny does nothing for me. deanbenny is dust. it is dust. drowley rights forever" and i did not tag it because i'm not an asshole. bear then sent me a message that at the time i thought was funny/cute because his url reflected that he was obviously a huge benny fan. we had a very cordial exchange. everything was good. we chatted a little bit about how neat it would've been if benny had been played by a black actor and how the racism problem with gordon would've been fixed if gordon had been played by a white actor. not all of our conversation is visible anymore (and i also don't think all of it was on this post anyway) because i've since blocked him so his replies no longer show up on my posts. the point is: everything was fine. it was a good tumblr exchange. he continued to follow me. i did not follow him then or at any point.

the problem is that he kept coming onto my posts and into my inbox to try to make things about benny. that is not okay. i had already said that benny was a character (and deanbenny a ship) that i was not interested in. to me, this is an obvious boundary i've established that he repeatedly crossed. it's not an egregious violation, obviously. more than anything it's annoying. what he should've done, if benny was that important to him, was unfollow me and move on. but he didn't and i indulged him for awhile but at a certain point i thought, "okay maybe if i stop indulging him, he'll take the hint." so i stopped responding. he did not take the hint. he got worse and he even started commenting on things that he couldn't make about benny, just to willfully misinterpret things i said and taking them completely out of context. unfortunately, i don't have receipts for any of this because at the time i didn't know it was going to become an actual problem (however I have since learned that this is an established pattern of behavior he engages in, so you can probably find examples on other people's blogs).

it got so annoying, though, that i very carefully broached the subject in a private server with people i trusted. without naming any names or using any incriminating language (i.e. not specifically referencing benny), i basically said that there was someone being annoying about a specific character on my posts and i wasn't sure what to do about it. immediately, a handful of people replied with some variation of "the benny stan? he's been doing that to me too." i do have receipts of this (and an entire server to back me up) but i hope you can all understand why i'm not going to provide those or name names (or ask anyone to get involved publicly). the point is, it became apparent that i wasn't the only one and this was a pattern of behavior. i also learned during that conversation that bear has a history of harassing people and calling someone racist or a transphobe if they block him.

at that point, i decided not to rock the boat. i would just continue to ignore him and maybe he would get bored and move on. well that obviously didn't happen. he kept doing it and as a fun added bonus, he started to make vague posts about me. the thing is i don't actually care if he vagueblogs about me. it's his blog. he can do whatever he wants. it's none of my business. i mean i personally think he should've just unfollowed but, again, his blog, his choice. it is annoying that every single time he would do it, someone would send me a link or a screenshot of him doing it, but that's not really his fault. so, again, i just ignored it.

this is where we get to the incident in question. after a private discussion among a small group of friends, i posted this obviously joke poll at the insistence of @letterstothedevil, a tumblr user who has given me permission to include her in this.

the original message about the poll:

the permission:

now EYE think it's abundantly clear that the poll was a joke amongst friends, but maybe it wasn't, and i'm not going to fault anyone for not magically knowing that. i am, however, totally willing to fault someone for being a gigantic asshole. bear commented on the post and i, admittedly, gave a somewhat dismissive response because at that point i was so tired of him being willfully obtuse and twisting every little thing i said that i just didn't want to bother. he then went and made a series of not-at-all-vague posts calling me racist and claiming that i simply do not care about the racism in the show and it's obvious because i've never ever discussed it on my blog (which is a hilarious lie given that i'd specifically discussed it on my blog with him). at that point, there was no reason not to block him. he was already doing the thing that i didn't want to deal with. so i did. and i thought that would be the end of it.

again, i was wrong.

i then started to get anon messages daily about benny and deanbenny and how i'm racist for not liking benny, etc. this was harassment that EYE was on the receiving end of. nobody else was a victim of the messages i was being sent. they were sent to me and it is not my job to make sure other people are protected from the harassment that i am experiencing. i'm pointing this out for two reasons: 1. because i did try to protect bear from it for awhile anyway. i knew that people would assume it was him and at the time i was still giving him the benefit of the doubt, if for no other reason than the fact that i didn't think he could send me messages since i blocked him. and 2. because when i did finally start to respond to some of the messages, bear acted like he was somehow the victim in all of this (and continues to act that way to this day).

i don't know if bear had (or currently has) anything to do with any of the messages i get (which, thankfully, have slowed considerably). what i do know is that at no point during any of this happening did he stop looking at my blog and vagueblogging about me.

when i finally did answer a few of the messages, bear had a bit of a meltdown about it. i know this because he used a separate account that i hadn't know existed to message me and because he talked to one of my friends about it. (i'm not going to name that person but if they want to get involved publicly of their own accord, that's up to them lol). i'm also not going to share screenshots of what bear said to me because he explicitly asked me not to (it's also the reason i'm not sharing screenshots of the numerous receipts i have of the things he's said and lied about on his blog but, unless he's deleted any of them, you can go and find the posts yourselves.) what i am going to share is that in the message he sent to me, he flat out lied about his behavior. he told me he hadn't been vague-blogging about me, that he would never ever do that about anyone, and that he would certainly never harass someone (all things that i have receipts of him doing).

it took me awhile to respond to this message because i was still trying to be gracious about the whole situation. i recognize that he is much younger than i am and i think it's important for me, as a full blown adult, to take that into account. i had a private discussion with a few trusted friends about how to handle this because it was important to me to not let him off the hook for his behavior and for lying just because he's young. this is what i ended up saying:

his response was to double-down on his lies (while, hilariously, vague-blogging about me and the whole thing) and then go into victim mode about something so completely unrelated and far-fetched that i decided i simply wanted nothing to do with him ever. (this is when he asked me not to share screenshots, so i won't, but this is me saying that i have ALL of the receipts, bear, so if you continue to lie, you will not like what happens.) i blocked his alternate account and tried to ignore him.

the harassment continued. again, i have no idea if he was actually part of it. the vagueblogging continued. he started to do it to other people he associated with me. many of them blocked him because of his behavior. i continued to answer some of the hate i received, continued to ignore and/or block most of it. it got so bad that i was sent seizure bait on more than one occasion, one time bad enough that i actually ended up going to the ER. there are receipts of all of this, too. you can see on my blog the messages i've been sent. i think at one point i even shared a snapshot of what my inbox looked like. i've shared privately with friends (who can confirm if they want to, but no pressure) screenshots of the kinds of messages i get that i don't respond to. the point is, that for a period of months, i was relentlessly harassed. and at no point during this time did i say anything to or about bear (or anyone else). the most i've done is respond to messages that have been sent to me. i've largely sat quietly while this thing happened to me and bear continued to make posts about me and act like he is somehow a victim in this. he's assumed things about me and my identity. he's violated boundaries i've set. he will not let this go. and i'm not the only one he's doing it to.

i'm so fucking tired of it. leave me alone. leave my blog alone. leave my friends alone. leave any and all of the people who have blocked you for your own inappropriate and obnoxious behavior alone. that's it. that's the end. none of this would be happening if you would just respect other people's boundaries. i don't want you on my blog. i do not want to interact with you. i don't want anything to do with you. that's it. the end.

[justsomeectoplasm]

Hhhuugh so the reddit incident came and went but I know there's going to be a handful of twitter users that don't know jackshit about tumblr and are migrating here. Honestly it's valid that you all jumped ship because there's only going to be two outcomes to this:

-Muskratatouille is going to realise he fucked up and remove the rate limit.

- He refuses to admit his mistake and kills twitter.

So welcome! I hope you like my blog. Here's a revamp of some things you need to know before interacting with me and some general notes you need to know:

Massive porn bot problem here that can actually harass you and other users by sending porn through dm's and asks. Also shares malicious links to sites which is a big no-no. Therefore, PUT A DAMN PFP AND CUSTOMIZE YOUR BLOG, AND REBLOG POSTS. That's the only way to let people know that you're not a bot and that you're 100% a living breathing human. Lurking only works through reblogging without adding tags. (Side note: irl Hot lady pfps are not that great. Bots use them all the time. Anime hot lady is fine.)

Likes do jackshit. Tumblr is more of a blogging website than a social media platform. The way it circulates and brings attention to posts is by a sharing system called reblogging. If you really want to support artists, writers, game devs or just wanting your friends to see some funny posts, reblog it. (Reblogging artists work is not the same as reposting on this site. It helps us.)

Tags are your friends in this site. You can use them to navigate through content of your favorite subjects or you can add your thoughts to them. They can also help sort out your own original posts on your blog. (for example I use 'I ramble' on posts that have nothing to do with my fandoms.)

If you censor a word I will personally break your computer. You can say whatever the hell you want on this website and you won't get in trouble (unless it's hate speech, which you can report.)

Pt 2 of the above point: The reason why I'm so adamant on this point is because tumblr has a filter system. Users use this system to filter out content and tags that they don't want to see. This helps a lot for people with triggers and over all curating your online experience. By censoring words, you are bypassing these filters and doing more harm then good. Don't censor your words. If you want to use this feature go to settings and click on "content you see".

Pt 3. With that said, please please tag your posts if they have triggers or upsetting material. Whether you do dark content or not, it is important to tag your posts if they have a well known trigger.

There is no algorithm. You create it using tags. Your post going viral is a 50/50 gamble and you better hope it's a post that's actually great.

You can block anonymous askers since you need to use an account to send asks. Have fun.

Blocking users is much more effective. You can't see or interact with their posts and vice versa. Go wild.

[in1-nutshell]

I lied, I don't want Megatron's confession constantly getting interrupted. I want them to kiss, I wanna see Megatron being a simp for his small spider wife.

bonus

Optimus - Thank you for putting aside our differences and meeting me here. And I'd like it to be known that right now, I am not speaking to you as autobot to decepticon but as mech to mech. With that being said, I will find a way to kill you if you hurt buddy

SHOVEL TALK PLS

another thing to tag on, Im sorry I only got ideas after requests are closed, i hope when you see this you have a nice day and drink water.

Will we finally get the confession? Yes? No? You'll have to find out.

I had other request similar to this one so this will have some of their elements too.

Better context, read the last Elita One's twin sister post

Hope you enjoy!

Elita One's twin sister and Megatron confessions?

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Cybertronain (techno organic) reader

TFA

All Decepticon projects had halted when Buddy disappeared through that portal.

Not that anyone would object to it anyways.

Everyone was worried about where Buddy would end up.

Blitzwing’s personalities all agreed to work together to find her, causing a near cohesive flow.

Near, the faces would sometimes have a fit over little details in the search.

Starscream halted all his plans to overthrow Megatron until Buddy was found.

Lugnut messaged Strika to keep an optic out on the space bridges they were thinking about taking in case Buddy was around.

Shockwave was also notified about Buddy sudden disappearance.

Megatron was by far the most worried in the group.

He could still see Buddy trying to reach for his servo.

After 3 days of searching Megatron knew what he had to do.

He didn’t like it, but Buddy’s life potentially at risk and time was at the essence now.

The entire Decepticon group had flown to the city and landed in the center of the park.

There was no way he was going to message the smaller Prime, but at least showing up would do something to alert the Autobots.

Within no time most of the Autobots had shown up at the park.

Megatron walking towards Optimus.

Optimus walks to him.

They meet in the middle.

“Megatron.”--Optimus

“Prime. I have news.”--Megatron

Optimus doesn’t like the look Megatron is giving him.

They look frightened.

What could possibly…

“Megatron, where’s Buddy?”--Optimus

Megatron looks down a bit and clenches his servo.

“A portal opened inside the base. We were—I was unable to stop her from getting sucked inside.”--Megatron

Optimus and the Team’s optics go wide.

“How? When?”--Optimus

“Three days ago. We have not found a trace of Buddy.”--Megatron

“Do you think that she may have been kidnapped again?”--Optimus

“Not likely. There would have been traces of…”--Megatron

Optimus clenches his axe.

“How can we help?”--Optimus

“Firstly, a truce needs to be—”--Megatron

Optimus shakes his servo with Megatron.

“All right, next?”--Optimus

Optimus managed his team to start looking for Buddy.

Prowl and Bulkhead went to Dinobot Island to see if Buddy was around.

They came across Dinobot’s there.

They were worried that Buddy hadn’t shown up either.

Grimlock managed to organize the Dinobots to help with the search.

Ratchet, Bumblebee and Sari searched more in the city for Buddy.

Optimus managed to get in contact with Elita and tell her what was going on.

She nearly turned the entire ship around hearing that.

“Elita you can’t come back to Earth without the right jurisdiction.”--Optimus

“Optimus, Buddy is in trouble. My twin needs my help.”--Elita

“I’m with Prime on this one Elita.”--Sentinel

“What?”--Elita

“What?”--Optimus

“We have orders to get back to Cybertron and that’s what they expect. They don’t know Buddy is still alive. Ultra Magnus still doesn’t know. It’s going to give us and Buddy more trouble if we go back.”--Sentinel

“…Fine.”--Elita

“We’ll keep an optic out on our end Optimus.”--Sentinel

“Thank you, both of you.”--Optimus

“Optimus, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you know.”--Jazz

“Megatron told me.”--Optimus

“…Come again.”--Jazz

“He told us he needed help finding Buddy. She’s been gone for three days.”--Optimus

“Three days?!”--Elita

“How do you know this isn’t a trap? How do you know that Megatron isn’t lying?”--Sentinel

“Trust me, he wouldn’t be lying about Buddy.”--Optimus

“How—”--Sentinel

“Trust me on this.”--Optimus

“…I hope you’re right.”--Elita

A few days later…

Megatron is flying around early in the morning when he sees that same blasted portal open in the middle of the sky.

Something shoots out of it and the portal closes.

He looks closer at the thing and nearly has a spark attack.

It was Buddy.

“WHY CAN’T I HAVE A SAFE LANDING?!”--Buddy

Megatron dives down and grabs Buddy’s waist slowing her descent and flies upwards.

Buddy has her optics shut closed preparing for the worst.

“Buddy?”--Megatron

Buddy opens her optics and sees the shocked optics of Megatron.

Her Megatron.

“Megatron?”--Buddy

Megatron just pulls her in a tight hug.

Buddy does her best to hug back.

“I…I thought…”--Megatron

“Megatron, even after all this time, you still doubt me?”--Buddy

Megatron gives her a slightly unamused look.

“You know what I mean.”—Megatron

Buddy giggles a bit.

“I do, but sometimes it too easy with you.”--Buddy

“Too easy?”--Megatron

“Yes, like this.”--Buddy

Buddy cups both her servos on Megatron’s faceplate.

Megatron’s optics grow slightly but close them when she starts gently stroking her digit on his face.

“Is this fine?”--Buddy

Megatron just nods.

“I missed you.”--Buddy

“As did I.”--Megatron

Megatron looks at Buddy’s optics longingly.

“I love you.”--Megatron

Megatron’s optics go wide as the three words slipped out of his mouth.

Buddy’s optics went wide but then a happy smile graces her face as she pressed her helm against his.

He leans in too.

“It’s a good thing I feel the same way too then.”--Buddy

“Feel what?”--Megatron

“Love. I love you Megatron. I love you so.”--Buddy

Megatron lets a smile loose and closes his optics focusing on the moment with Buddy’s helm still resting on his.

They both come back to the park after Megatron let everyone know that she was okay.

The Decepticon’s want to high tail it to the park, but Megatron tells them to get back to the base.

Begrudgingly they agree.

Optimus is the first one to arrive at the park and tackles Buddy down.

Optimus locking Buddy in a tight hug on the ground.

“Don’t you ever do that again! Do you hear me!?”--Optimus

Buddy just chuckles and hugs him back.

Optimus helps Buddy get off from the floor.

Budy moves her way back to Megatron’s side and takes his servo in hers.

Optimus gives Buddy a look before getting the message.

Optimus turns to Megatron flashing the axe in his servo.

“I thank you for putting the war aside for Buddy, I do. And right now, still has nothing to do with the war, but as mech to mech.”--Optimus

Optimus gives him his best death glare.

“If you ever hurt her in anyway, shape, form, and I find out… You’re going to have to deal with me. And you wont like the ways I deal with things angrily; you can ask Buddy that.”--Optimus

Buddy having flashbacks to Optimus fighting a whole group of cadets because they hurt her.

She had tried to get Elita and Sentinel to get him to stop, but in the end the two joined in.

Megatron looks at the Prime for a moment before taking out his other servo.

“You have my word, Optimus Prime. For what ever its worth to you.”--Megatron

Optimus shakes it before giving Buddy one last hug.

Prime transforms and gets back to the plant to call off the search party.

After getting buried in more hugs and light scoldings, there is a mini celebration at the base for finding Buddy.

Buddy had to make many calls during the party to make sure everyone knew she was okay.

“I see the Spider survived.”--Strika

“Yes, I did Strika. I’m home.”--Buddy

“I must ask what happened though. Megatron had most of the projects stopped to go look for you.”--Strika

Buddy blushes a bit at the comment.

“Well, that’s a story for the next time you come over.”--Buddy

“I see, but one last question.”--Strika

“Yes?”--Buddy

Strika points to Buddy’s servo that is off screen.

Buddy lifts it up a bit showing Megatron’s servo carefully intertwined with hers still.

Strika’s optics go wide.

Buddy smiles sweetly.

“Hmm…I believe I’ll have to make my visit sooner then.”--Strika

“Okay then! Bye Strika!”--Buddy

Strika cuts the video call.

Megatron squeezes her servo a bit.

Buddy smiles and squeezes back.

SLAM!

Megatron and Buddy jump at the sound.

Megatron pulls Buddy closer still holding her servo.

“Lord Megatron we have the—”--Lugnut

Lugnut zeroes in on the servos.

“Oh… My…”--Lugnut

“Umm, Lugnut? Are you—”--Buddy

“ITS HAPPENING! ITS HAPPENING!”--Lugnut

“What?”--Megatron

Starscream and Blitzwing come running in and spot Megatron’s servo in Buddy’s.

Blitzwing throws his servos in the air with utter joy and relief.

“Finally! It’s over now!”--Blitzwing

“What’s over now?”--Buddy

“The endless pinning! You two have been pinning over each other for years and finally, FINALLY got together!”--Starscream

Buddy hides half of her face with her other servo.

Megatron feels embarrassed but knows that he can’t really punish them for this.

It was torture for him too.

Megatron drags Buddy away from the cheering mechs.

“Have fun you two!”--Starscream

Megatron stops and gets ready to go back and punch Starscream.

“Megatron no.”--Buddy

Megatron follows Buddy as if nothing happened.

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x01 - A Diamond of the First Water (Part 1)

An Introduction

Dearest Gentle Reader... ;)

Well, okay, looks like there a good handful of you for this idea! Yay!

I did want to preface this with a couple of notes first, though if you want to skip to the show meta, head straight for the 'read more' below...

My intention with this project is to explore the individual stories as well as the romantic relationship between Penelope Featherington (who is my favorite character on the show) and Colin Bridgerton. So, I'll be looking at every episode of the entire show and kind of go through their character arcs with a fine tooth comb. The first two seasons I plan on batching scenes together while Season 3 might end up almost scene by scene because it is so rich and dense with story.

The whole point is that I enjoy meta and media analysis and breaking down stories and looking at stories from every angle possible. I am usually pretty positive, but that doesn't mean even my favorites are not exempt from a critical eye from time to time. And I'm not hesitant to explore character, story, and production flaws when discussing things. I do, however, try to remain respectful.

While this is primarily Pen and Colin focused, I'll probably still end up opinioning on other things I like as well (and do have respect for other characters and ships on the show).

The only book I've read is The Duke and I. I don't plan on doing any book to tv analysis, but I do hope to get through Romancing Mister Bridgerton before I get to Season 3 so I can point out Easter Eggs.

I'm also no historical scholar. So, probably won't be doing any kind of historical analysis either. Sorry.

I'm a multi-fandom blog, and have lots of projects I'm working on, so I plan on rotating through them. Plus, I have a full time job and family and friends, which means please be patient as I work on the project. It's a labor of love! But maybe a slower one. <3

Not here to discuss the actors', creators', crew, etc's personal lives. While I may put in a tiny BTS tidbit I've picked up, I have no intention or desire to talk about anything but the story.

I always enjoy talking with you guys about things, my meta is only one interpretation of what's going on, and I'm always open to discussions! However, I block or ignore any kind of wank, so please be civil. :)

Tag : the lady whistledown papers (in case you want to follow along or black list it away)

Okay, let's dig into some meta!!

Episode 1 : A Diamond of the First Water (Part 1)

So, it may be something that's easily forgotten or overlooked, but the very first thing we hear when we open the show is Lady Whistledown's voice -- which of course, is really Penelope. Since it's the delightful Julie Andrews doing the voice, it doesn't really feel like it's an 18yo girl's commentary about life in the rich part of London society in the early 1800s, but here we are. It's all done to build a bit of mystery around Lady Whistledown.

But what I think is more fascinating is the fact that the show opens -- not with the Bridgertons but the Featheringtons. They are our starting point. They are our dysfunctional family unit that we may closer resemble in our own lives that we get to peek in on before heading over to the esteemed, charming, and seemingly perfect Bridgertons.

The Bridgertons might be the protagonists of the show -- but Lady Whistledown and (by extension) Penelope Featherington is our framing device. She sets up the world, gives us the expository layout of the land and gives us an insight into the world. So it makes sense that we're starting in Penelope's home -- the person, like the audience, who gets to look into the Bridgerton home, but not actually be a part of it (yet).

When we open, we get a great introduction to the Featheringtons, and in a quick few shots - learn a lot about of them.

First of all, the narration -- while I'm not going to take note of every single narration throughout the whole show, it is important to remember that it's Penelope who is ultimately speaking. And when we open the show -- the first thing she does is blast her own family.

Why? Because it's her only way to push back. Look at what's happening in this scene? Prudence is being forced into the tightest corset ever imaginable as Penelope (and Phillipa) look on in horror. Penelope is still young (she is 18yo) and is being thrust into the market earlier than she wants so that her mother can have all of her daughters out in society at the same time.

Unlike what we'll find over at the Bridgerton family household, the Featheringtons are ruled by a seemingly iron fisted mother who only wants her daughters to marry rich so she can retain her lifestyle and place in society while her father is uninterested in anything other than himself.

Later in season 3, she'll mention that this particular issue is her first issue. So, it's no surprise that she starts writing just as she's coming into society. It's her way of coping and her way of expressing herself. But, I'll also remind everyone, while she is incredibly savvy at her craft, she's also still so young, and not entirely aware of the power she's going to wield.

As for Pen herself -- she's genuinely concerned about her older sister. We don't get a sense of their dynamic yet, but at least we get to see Penelope's kind hearted nature. Prudence looks like she's being down right tortured by her 'tasteless, tactless' mama. And nothing about this is appealing to Penelope.

(As an aside -- this also sets up a couple of things for the show -- for one, throwing us into the historical nature of the show, as well as adding a slight bit of comedy to the over-the-topness of Portia's insistence. The show is telling us that, yeah, there are crude and unpleasant things going on, but we're not taking ourselves too seriously, so neither should you.)

Next, we shift over to the Bridgerton household, but I want to point out something first... Notice how the Featherington door knocker from earlier was much more adorned and intricate? The Featheringtons are more concerned with status and money and appearing as if they're better off than they really are, while the Bridgertons don't need nor want to show off in the same way. It's a neat little detail.

Also, the bee imagery for the Bridgertons always is amusing. Symbol of death there ;) In case you were wondering - the Featherington symbol is the butterfly.

So, it's important to note that the Featheringtons are the next door neighbors of the Bridgertons, and it's of no surprise that Penelope would, after disparaging her own family, turn her attention to the family that has captivated her most of her life.

Okay, I kind of love these paintings as an introduction to the Bridgertons. (Are there ones for Gregory and Hyacinth?) I think it's a fun touch to the whole historical setting of the show. And it makes them look as if they're these frozen, idyllic pictures and who are not exactly real. Which is great when combined with the Lady Whistledown dialogue going on how wonderfully attractive they are - because it sets us just slightly apart from them.

Like I said above - Penelope is on the outside, and as we move in, so are we, but we get to finally move in to see real people behind the paintings. (Also - omg, the look on Eloise's face is priceless and I love it)

Also. A+ casting, guys. I really believe they're all related. ;)

I also love the juxtaposition that when we first hear the Bridgertons talking, unlike their perfect, picture-esque counterparts in the paintings, we get Eloise complaining. (Look, I love Eloise a lot -- and she's the third in this crazy triangle, so we'll be talking a bit about her, too.) We also get a bit of chaos as the camera descends the stairs, with Gregory running around them and the banter between the sisters.

It's all great, quick character set up as each of the Bridgerton siblings gets a little beat in this sequence.

And... we get our first glimpse at Colin!

And here's the thing about Colin. He's the third son. Anthony may not be around at the very moment, but he's very much a father figure to a lot of them and is in a different place being the oldest and actual Lord of the Estate. His role is much different. And then there's Benedict - who is that second in command while Anthony is away. Benedict, though is the artsy one and the experimental one and is a bit more aloof in nature. Which brings us to Colin... Who doesn't have the same set in stone sense of purpose Anthony does nor the happiness of just floating through life the way Benedict does.

And so, this scene has a couple of tidbits to kind of illustrate his place in this huge household. He's says he'll go get Daphne (who is currently hiding out in her room, and whom everyone has been arguing about). Colin does like having purpose, and does like to help whenever he can.

And then there's his banter with Benedict about how he's better liked by Daphne than him. It's a great little moment, not only the show again allowing to us to know that we should not be taking this historical show too seriously, not only showing us the beloved sibling antics (which -- i really love all the sibling dynamics in this show), but also showing that Colin has a bit of a cheeky side, and isn't afraid to bring a bit a levity to the situation when he can.

Also, a tiny tidbit in relation to the book, Colin and Daphne (being close in age) are rather close in the book. We don't necessarily see it in the show due to the nature of wanting to highlight Anthony more, but I feel like these lines are a little nod to that, too.

Of course, then, Eloise screams at the top of her lungs, which is a moment I still laugh at. I love that while Benedict's jaw is dropped, Colin is entirely amused by her, as I'm sure she livens the entire household up.

We get both households coming out of their houses, and we get this sweet little moment where we see that, not only are they neighbors, but Penelope and Eloise know each other and are friends.

I love that Penelope is so overjoyed to be looking over to the Bridgertons that she kind of freezes in excitement and has to be ushered along.

Also as the camera pulls back, we see Eloise reading a Lady Whistledown pamphlet! The first time we see someone do so!

You guys remember Disney's Sleeping Beauty? There's a moment when they enter the castle the three good fairies are announced. The dude who announces the Featherington sisters reminds me of that -- introducing Flora, Fauna, and Merriweather! (Don't even come at me, it's my favorite Disney movie)

Anyway... we get LW's narration that this is a pivotal moment for London society at the time -- when the girls are presented to the Queen and enter the marriage mart. Basically, it's a coming of age for young women. And while Prudence might have the most embarrassing moment by fainting (I mean - who's to blame her, really) Penelope looks so awkward going out there -- before her time, really not emotionally ready, and just not graceful in the way that the other girls, including even her sisters, just are.

Okay, so it's not really our first Polin moment, but there is a pseudo moment buried in here.

But first - I want to acknowledge that Penelope, feeling out of place, and at ill-ease with her surroundings, throws a glance over to Eloise. I love Eloise's truly perplexed look as she watches her friend go through something that neither of them really want -- as if trying to grapple how any of this is real. Penelope and Eloise's bond is incredibly important to both their characters and the show (and is something I enjoy as much as I love all the Polin).

As for Colin standing over there in the corner... No, there's not really anything to pull out here. But! There is going to be a moment in season 3, when Colin is writing in his journal, where it's clear that he's thinking about this moment, and describing watching her as she heads towards the queen. It's a cute callback to this moment, and even if we don't really see it -- it's still there. He's still noticing her, even if it's very, very subtly.

LW continues her narration about how important the Queen's opinion is of the ladies of society, and how important it is to make a good impression. But fascinatingly, Penelope is too busy looking at the ceilings and being in awe of her surroundings to really take notice of what the Queen is doing. She's a bit, understandably, shocked. (and another great comedic moment as Portia kind of knocks her back into focusing.)

It's great for setting the atmosphere of the show, but also allowing us, through Penelope, to take in our surroundings and be in awe of what we're witnessing.

It's also, I'll add, to be an awkward contrast to when Daphne comes in and is completely flawless in her entrance. Penelope is our side character. She's not our main character. And main characters are supposed to have a level of perfection to them. (Or so we're been accustomed to believe.) I think one thing I'm happy to see on the show is that, while we're still going to get a lot of romance story tropes, the show does try to dismantle a few of the stereotypes as we go along.

Also, two quick smaller notes... we don't really get to see Colin's reaction to Daphne -- Anthony and the sister are too in the way, and he doesn't have much of a discernable reaction when we do see him. And, the narration makes note that Daphne is going to burn quickly, which honestly made me laugh a little.

And.... that takes us up to the credits! Which is where I'll be stopping for now. Since this is the first episode and an introduction to the world, there's actually lot of both Penelope and Colin in it, so there's a lot to go through... stay tuned ;)

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part iii

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can’t wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight. 

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say. 

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.  

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan. 

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered.  You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

 A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

 ===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention. 

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence. 

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.” 

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing?  “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”  

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

 “I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

 === 

 “I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning. 

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.” 

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere HuskerDust Headcanons (Hazbin Hotel)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with a new chapter! This One is with Husk and Angel Sharing you, hope you enjoy this!] 

(Disclaimer: Husk and Angel are Not a canon couple (not yet at least) in the show, they are also not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you, and happy pride month!) 

(Side Not Husk in Pansexual in canon and is any hole is a goal and Angel is a gay man in canon. Again this is just for fun and shipping in fiction is fine just don't be buttholes about it!) 

-Base Yandere Headcanons With HuskerDust From Hazbin Hotel!- 

.These two both have very intense feelings for you. They want you to be theirs and theirs alone. 

.Of course, it did not start off like that. 

.They at first did not want to share you, but the more they actually got to know each other the more they realized they could and would share you. 

.Angel is more of the flirty-forward one with you. 

.He makes it clear the feelings he has for you and how he wants you to belong to him and husk. 

.Husk is more standoffish with his feelings at first, but he does admit he does like you as a drinking buddy and likes to be close to you. 

.Husk is an older man and has been around for a bit, having been an overlord. 

.He would know how to play the game. He would bet his soul on that he could make you his and Anegl's. 

.The two would be able to work together and make you fall head over heels for them. 

.They know what they are doing and will be able to charm you. 

.Husk wants your consent to love him and the angel. 

.Angel thinks getting to the fucking part will win you over more than Husk's plan of taking it slow. 

.In the end, they are both protective of you and would tag team any rivals. 

.Who did their rivals think they were trying to win you over? When you belong to them. 

.Angel is one of the more vengeful and rough yanderes of the two. 

.Meaning he will take great pleasure in a full assault on rivals and anyone that hurts you. 

.While Husk is not a full-on assault but more like a drug and kidnaps his rivals slowly killing them and even using angelic weapons so they cannot come back. 

.Husk is the more deadly of the two, while Angel is more of the act first thing later. 

.Put the two together and you have an extremely dangerous yandere pairing! 

.Angel will take you out clubbing to cheer you up, while Husk is more the one to talk to you and see what is bothering you to make you feel better. 

.They both are helpful in their own way. 

.Angel is actually a good cook and is the one to cook for you, while Husk always has a good drink for you. 

.They do not share you with anyone else though. 

.Husk would bet you a lot for time alone with you, he is willing to gamble so he can win alone time with you. 

.Husk and Angel are also into things like BDSM and you can expect them to be into that with you, just saying! 

.With their yandere sides they would make sure that they knew where you were and who you were with. Unless one of them was with you. 

.They rather die than see you hurt and they are both extremely loyal yanderes, where they will never cheat on you and they will fight to the death with you. 

.Husk is the wise older one and able to give you advice and to be the one for the complex stuff. 

.But Angel is the one to go for modern things and such and for advice on that stuff. 

.They are a good balance of partners and would do what it takes to keep you safe and to protect you. 

.But if anyone tried to hurt you, that is when their yandere sides show and they are downright bloodthirsty and ruthless. 

.They would confess to you over dinner. 

.If you say yes, you can know for sure they are going to at the least make out with you. 

.If you say no, they know they will have to step up their game, the tell each other after you are gone that it did not matter they will do better and they WILL have you no matter what! 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[rattkachuk]

Hello! Hope you are having a good day.

So I have a question for you, just ignore when you don't feel like answering.

I came to Mattdrai via the enemies/rivals to lovers tag and then got sucked into hockey. I really like the fanon take on Leon, fav character, fanon Matthew was fine but way too woobified and infantilized in so many fics. So my surprise when I started to watch games, interviews etc. Public Matthew is so confident, so loving, awesome family to back him up, especially Brady, hot as hell, sexy way of playing hockey, amazing public persona. Loved and respected by his team, beyond hockey.

Then Leon. His only trait seems to be that he's pissy which I can appreciate but it seems that he's just a downright mean, arrogant guy with a superiority complex (see that interview when he puts Silovs down.) I don't find him stoic at all but he's just seems boring and bland and yeah, pissy. It doesn't seem like he has fun or likes his team a lot or is liked by them (Connor aside and his skills aside.) His friendship with Connor seems the only endearing or likeable thing. He even looks good in a bland way and his hockey is while it's so skillful it's not hot and also I wonder why his dirty plays aren't called out more often.

So what do I miss? Where does great fanon Leon come from? Why is he written mostly so superior to Matthew and where comes the "his team likes Leon so much but Matthew is an outcast in his own team come from?) It's so far from what I gather from old and new interviews or games and I have watched a lot, also German interviews. I really would like to like Leon, shipping them had been more fun when I didn't find his public self so jarring. What do I not see what everyone else seems to get?

Sorry for the long ask! Have a great day and thank you

first off thank you for such a thought out ask! i don't get to dive into things like this a lot outside of writing fic and it got my brain gears going.

to get right into the bulk of this ask: i get what you are saying about leon. that can be the way he comes off for sure, and look everything i'm gonna say? i'm talking out of my ass here. i don't claim to know anything about him as a person besides what's publicly presented, and i don't have much right to theorize about why he is the way that he is, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it. how would i write rpf otherwise, right 💀

i think he cares a lot. and i think sometimes he gets so wrapped up in things, how things should be, how he should be performing, etc, and when it doesn't go a certain way he gets frustrated and snarky (eg, pissy comments and such). but i don't see that being bad necessarily, especially when it's seems to come from such a team oriented state of mind. which, i dont think he dislikes his team at all? i think if anything, he has a sort of blind faith in his team, and that's the only context i could see a 'superiority complex' making sense in. and yah maybe a little misplaced at times, but ultimately i think it comes from believing so fully in his team and not seeing that come to fruition. he really does not seem to care about his individual performance much at all, so how self obsessed can he be? when i think about leon i just see someone that is ultimately very passionate and committed to the game he plays. i'm also curious to know where you get the vibe that his team doesn't like him? simply because i never got that impression from any of the other oilers, they all seem like they're obsessed with him.

beyond hockey, i see a caring, sweet, kindhearted individual. anytime i see a picture or vid of him interacting with bowie, or even the things his girlfriend posts about him, the comments he leaves for people on ig, and yah of course in the way he talks/acts around connor, i see fragments of someone soooo different than the little two minute post game interviews (which, can we judge any hockey player on those? i think they all hate them dfkjgsd). it's not always something i actively go digging for or have examples of the top of my head, but i do see it, and it definitely goes into creating the version of leon that i have in my mind.

hey, and, he's a silly guy!!! please, i know the reputation is pissy and humourless, ESPECIALLY in fic, but that man is so funny. so many random offhanded comments that make me pause and then laugh. a different sense of humour but it's so there. i love the sandcastle vid from the asg last year and feel like it's a good example of that, all sunburnt and happy. also hey, big man in tune with his fear of the ocean? love that. that little vid of him dancing on the ice earlier this season, those halloween photos where he's dressed as a monkey, every time he talks to a kid. hell, seeing him in warmups and watching the way he takes time to interact fans?? loveee watching warmups but i'd never had a player actually acknowledge my existence before leon!

also i really enjoy his personality on the ice, i like the rat behaviour and the sassy comments that he makes to other players/refs, i like the bitch moves, and i like his hockey too. i think his game is dependable and like you said skillful, and while maybe not the most creative, the sureness and the technical aspect it is hot to me. so my thoughts on everything are probably skewed in that regard.

anyways this was just a whole lot of rambling about why i find him interesting, endearing even, but i understand the perception you have. i don't like some players that other people love, just cause i cant see what they see. and honestly that's sometimes just the way it is! if you don't like leon, maybe u just don't like him and thats fine.

disclaimer that i have only been on hockeyblr for a couple years, and really didn't spare many thoughts for leon til the beginning of the 22/23 season. truthfully i'm hardly the person to ask about leon imo, but of course i have thoughts anyways! if someone else with more knowledge reads my bit of rambling here, please feel free to chime in and add your voice to this!

and side note, ofc, i have to touch on this bc who would i be if i'm not one to talk about matthew; in the way of m.tkachuk, i think that in the early days of mattdrai it was maybe a fair take away during his time with the flames (minus the woobifying). even though he was loved so much here and had some fucking times, and i think the team was mostly good to him (player wise if not regarding management, that is), i see such a stark difference now that he's on the panthers. he seems much happier and more confident, and obviously he's clicking with the cats on another level, and i do see a shift in how he's been portrayed in fics since tbh.

[queer-ragnelle]

hello..👋👋

as someone who wants to get into arthurian legends.. where do you think I should start? is there a precise canon to follow? oh and.. this might be a stupid question but.. how would you describe guinevere's and lancelot's relationship...? i personally really like them because of what I've heard online, but i got shamed for liking it a while ago from people who really hated guinevere and said gawain or galehaut(not sure if i spelled it right) would be better for lancelot..

Hello anon!

I have a Beginner’s Guide to Medieval Arthuriana pinned on my blog. There’s no precise canon to follow, but you’ll get the most bang for your buck reading the works of Chrétien de Troyes and the Vulgate Cycle. Much of what Chrétien developed ended up in the Vulgate, like Lancelot rescuing Guinevere from kidnapping, but there are more elements added from other stories, such as Lancelot’s upbringing in the lake which originated from Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikoven. On the other hand, Yvain’s journey as Knight with the Lion doesn’t make it into the Vulgate, so that’s worth reading on its own.

Regarding the part about people shaming you: block them if you haven’t already and anyone else who does so in future. I’m terribly sorry those people were unwelcoming as you begin to read and learn about Arthurian Legend. Let that not reflect on the community as a whole—there’s many lovely people here that’ll be happy to help you along. I hope you’re able to cultivate a positive online experience to the best of your ability and start enjoying the legends with us! :^D

But back to the fun stuff—I also really like Guinevere/Lancelot! My favorite dynamic is when Arthur is included too, but Guin is my number one pick for Lancey. ;^) It’s hard to describe them in so few words but I think it’s important to establish that they’re friends. This is an oft overlooked aspect that really deserves attention. They care for each other deeply. She helps him out of his madness and he helps her out of danger. This is something Arthur couldn’t do for either of them, much as he wanted to. That’s what makes the pair special, to me.

As for shipping wars about medieval characters….kinda ridiculous! And shaming other people over it is just abhorrent. I’m sorry you had to deal with that! Personally I enjoy Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot and Galehaut/Lancelot. I think it’s obvious I favor Gawain with his wife Ragnelle lol but Gawain/Lancelot is fine too. Gawain can have a little Lancelot. As a treat. I even enjoy “crackship” type pairings, like Bedivere/Lancelot or Kay/Lancelot or maybe a little [unrequited] Agravaine/Lancelot, and if the author or filmmaker chooses to write her in a positive light, Elaine/Lancelot as well. But that’s just it—there’s certainly no such thing as a “better” person(s) to couple with Lancelot. It’s literally fake. It’s fiction. It’s for fun! Doesn’t sound like the people you’ve encountered were having very much fun and put that on you, which was wrong.

Here I’d like to mention I run a discord server called the Arthurian Theater Server. Every weekend I stream TV shows and movies, mostly Arthurian, sometimes random fantasy. But it’s more than visual media—my friends and I share resources, character playlists, art we made, stories we wrote, we’ll liveblog retellings or newly discovered medlit translations, and discuss anything else Arthurian! We have custom made emojis for all the knights and ladies, a variety of original art stickers of the characters provided by several members, and an array of sounds bites ripped from films and TV for the soundboard to be played while streaming. Tumblr can be a little hard to navigate with the unreliable tag system, so this server is dedicated to an organized and moderated exchange of ideas and content. You’re welcome to join us!

Let me know if you have any other questions, it’s never a bother. Take care!

[double-vandammage]

Title: Rude Awakening

Word count: 2,573

Rating: 18+

Ship: Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

Tags/Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Bret POV, Handjob, Blowjob, Alcohol

Also posted to my a03: aa_beatrix

Here is my first fanfic in probably 6 years. I'm so nervous about it, but I hope you Hartbreak shippers like it. I'm fairly new to this ship so please be gentle. 🥹 Thank you to the encouragement of my sis @taydaq, @imabillyami, @crxssjae, and @superkickme 😘

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged in future fics, I do plan on writing more. 🫣

Bret sat silently by his motel window, watching the rain gently glide down the glass. What a shit day he had, it was only fitting the weather was also terrible. The promo he had just cut with Shawn weighed heavily on his mind. He was so tired of the little prick. Night after night he had to observe Shawn flamboyantly parade around the stage. Not only did he have to watch the annoying spectacle, but also endure the man occasionally shake his bare ass at the crowd. The fans ate it up and he couldn’t fathom why. They were close once, it seemed a lifetime away. Thunder cracked, startling him from his thoughts. The universe was telling him to relinquish any thoughts of Shawn for the rest of the evening. He didn’t want Shawn in his head more than was required, especially while he was alone in his motel room. Bret made his way to the bed, climbing under the covers and slowly he drifted to sleep.  

Abruptly there was an aggressive and continuous rap at his door. Bret was barely able to open his eyes as he dazedly glanced at the bedside clock. The time read 2:00AM. “Who the fuck-?” he grunted as the knocking became louder. He whipped the blanket from his body while quickly swinging his legs over the mattress. “I’m coming dammit.” he spat, stumbling to the door in his sleepy stupor. He put his eye to the peephole. “Jesus Christ…” none other than a Heartbreak Kid disruption. “Hey! Big daddy cool! Open up big sexy!” Shawn half yelled, half giggled. Bret opened the door, “wrong room shithead. Some of us are trying to sleep.” Shawn was drenched. He had clearly spent some time in the rain. “Whoa.” Shawn raised both hands up in defense. “This isn’t Kevin’s room?” Bret made a show of moving his hands up and down his own frame, “clearly it isn’t you asshole, what are you drunk?” Shawn put his index finger and thumb together, “Mmmm…maybe just a pinch.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bret took in Shawn’s appearance. He was soaked, so much so he had created a pool of moisture on the motel floor. He was a mess. “Do you know which room Kevin is in?” he asked, not wanting Shawn to be his problem this early in the morning. “Hmmm…well I thought this was his room…so I guess…no.” he said with his signature smile, chuckling to himself. “You wouldn’t mind if I bunked here tonight, eh Hitman?” Shawn asked while running a hand through his wet hair. Bret thought this must be some cruel joke the universe was playing on him. The last thing he wanted in his room was a drunk wet dog named Shawn Michaels, but he couldn’t let him wander aimlessly up and down the halls, slamming on random doors, and calling for big sexy. 

Bret crossed his arms, “shit. Fine. Do not drip on anything.” Shawn grinned, “Thanks Hitman, you’re the best there is and ever will be.” he said, pushing Bret to the side and slapping him on the arm. Bret closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “The bathroom is to the left, I can get you something to change into.” He closed the door and turned to find Shawn already on the bed. “Are you fucking kidding me Michaels? You’re super fucking soaked. Get off the bed, now.” Shawn rose, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh man…I am?” he asked, real concern in his voice. “Uh, yeah. Get up.” Bret demanded. Shawn moved almost intentionally slow, the blankets getting more and more saturated. 

“Dammit Shawn. Get your ass to the bathroom.” he said, grabbing Shawn’s arm, shoving him towards the open doorway. “Alright, alright. Ya don’t gotta be so touchy.” Shawn almost immediately began stripping off his flashy costume. He shook off his vest and began removing those hideous chaps he insisted on wearing. He kicked off his boots next and in doing so Shawn had noticed Bret leaning against the door frame observing. Bret in an instant knew exactly what he was about to do. Shawn turned, his back facing him and commenced shimmying his tights down to wiggle his ass at him. “Like what ya see Hitman?” he taunted. Bret kept his face stoic, but could feel his cheeks beginning to flush. “Stop that shit and just get cleaned up would you?” he urged moving away. Shawn smirked, pulling his tights completely off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  

Bret began pulling the blankets and sheets off the bed, discarding them onto the floor. He could hear the water start to run and eventually steam wafted outside the door. He pulled out a plain white t-shirt and gray sweats from his suitcase for Shawn to wear. Bret climbed back into the bed to try and get some more sleep before they had to be on the road again. The shower stopped and after a few minutes, he felt the empty side of the mattress shift. “Absolutely not boytoy.” he murmured. “Oh come on Bret, there’s not even a couch in here.” Shawn whined. “Not my problem. This is already obnoxious without having dry blankets, you are not sleeping up here.” Shawn in a child-like tantrum, huffed off the bed and onto the floor with one of the pillows. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Outside rain still poured and thunder intermittently boomed, a particularly loud burst was enough to rattle Bret awake again. The clock registered at 5:00AM. He could hear Shawn’s slow and steady breathing, surprised Shawn didn’t also wake. Rolling to the opposite side of the bed, Bret peered over. Shawn was lying on his side facing him. Long blonde hair fell down around his shoulder and pillow. His bangs draped over his eyes. Shawn was beautiful, anyone could see that. Bret found his eyes had lingered, observing the white t-shirt he let the man borrow had slightly uplifted, revealing a small glimpse of Shawn’s tanned stomach. Quickly he averted his gaze and rolled back over. Squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the sounds outside in an attempt to stifle an unresolved hunger he had no business feeling towards the Heartbreak Kid.

Unable to rest, he again got out of bed to reside by the window in the lone chair. He needed air. He opened the window just enough to feel the cool misting of rain against his face. Minutes later he heard Shawn stirring, a small groan escaping from him as he stretched. Shawn sat upright, dreamily looking at Bret. “Can’t sleep Hitman?” he mumbled. Bret ignored him, keeping his view to the window. “I gotta take a leak.” Shawn yawned as he shuffled towards the bathroom. Bret listened as Shawn fumbled around in the dark, hearing the toilet flush and sink run. He came out in the middle of another yawn, “Fuck me, I’m gonna be sore. You think people will believe me when I say I’m sore after spending the night in the Hitman’s room?” he laughed. “Don’t even joke about that shit Shawn.” Bret spat. “I’ll kick you out right now, don’t test me.”

Shawn cautiously made his way to stand in front of him. “Come on, would it be so terrible? Maybe this is exactly what you and I need.” Shawn said, reaching out a hand to brush the inky strands of hair from Bret’s face. Bret caught his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t.” Shawn only invaded his space more, moving his leg to part Bret’s thighs. His free hand tilted Bret’s chin upward so he could meet his stare. “I know you look at me. Just like I knew you were looking at me over there.” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the bed. Bret jerked his head away irritated, but Shawn hadn’t released his grip. Shawn lowered himself, his mouth inches from his ear, “I like it when you look at me…”.

Bret felt many things for Shawn Michaels. Desire he could always snuff out, now he wasn’t so sure. Shawn closed the space between them, placing his lips to Bret’s temple. Bret involuntarily let go of Shawn’s wrist, finding he was nuzzling into Shawn as he continued to trail light kisses around the side of his face. “Touch me Bret…” Shawn sighed into him. Bret moved his hands to Shawn’s waist, tugging him forward so the younger man was situated between his thighs. Shawn moved his hands to cradle his face, lifting him slightly from the chair into an eager kiss. Bret let his own hands find their way under his t-shirt, running his fingers up Shawn’s back. “Come here.” Bret breathed against Shawn’s lips, guiding him to straddle his lap. 

Shawn smiled into their kiss, feeling Bret’s growing excitement beneath him. Shawn slid his hand down, teasing at Bret’s erection. “I knew you always had a hart on for me.” he joked. “Do you ever just shut the fuck up Michaels?” Bret gasped in between Shawn’s stroking. Their mouths fought for the upperhand, Bret captured Shawn’s bottom lip and bit down roughly. Shawn withdrew, taken aback, “Damn hitman.” he snickered, testing his lip for blood. He hated Shawn and this was probably a huge mistake, but all he wanted to do was make Shawn shut up. Swiftly he grabbed Shawn by the thighs, hoisting him up, and threw him to the bed. Shawn bounced onto the mattress, promptly grabbing at Bret’s shirt to yank him forward. Bret landed a quick peck to Shawn’s mouth before moving to devour his neck. Strategically he removed the pesky white t-shirt from Shawn, creating a makeshift tie to bind Shawn’s wrists.   

He ran his tongue down to Shawn’s shoulder; tasting sweat, motel body wash, and a hint of rain water. Not an ideal flavor, but damn did it taste good on Shawn. Bret flipped Shawn effortlessly onto his stomach, keeping hold of his bound wrists. He swept Shawn’s hair to the side, kissing the nape of his neck. Shawn arched into him, craning his neck to meet Bret’s lips. His fingers felt for the waistband of Shawn’s sweatpants, sliding his hand under the fabric, not surprised to find he wasn’t wearing underwear and grasping his cock. Letting go of his wrists, he tapped the side of Shawn’s hips, signaling Shawn to prop himself on his knees. Shawn read him easily as if inside the ring and elevated his backside, pushing against Bret’s groin, breaking their kiss and keeping his face down to the mattress.

“Holy shit, Hitman…I want you.” Shawn sputtered as Bret began to steadily pump Shawn’s dick. “Fuck, I’ve always wanted you, Bret.” he mumbled into the bed. How long had Shawn wanted him? Was it nearly as long as he wanted Shawn? Over the years he had indulged himself in the occasional sexy boy fantasy and every time he loathed himself for it. He was a complete hypocrite with each jab at Shawn for shooting that girly mag. Now he had Shawn under him, unapologetically jerking him off. He brought his free hand to clasp Shawn’s throat, easing him upward so he could relax against his chest. Bret continued his deliberate rhythm, relishing the low moans and the way Shawn began to thrust into Bret’s hand. “Jesus. Don’t stop.” Shawn whimpered, burying his face into Bret’s neck. He could tell Shawn was getting close, his panting becoming more rapid.

The feeling of Shawn nestled into his body was intoxicating. Sure, they had their physical history in the ring which was intimate in itself but maybe Shawn was right after all. Maybe this was exactly what they needed. What they couldn’t settle on the mat, they could settle behind closed doors. Bret pressed his lips to Shawn’s forehead, “You know I still hate you?” he said, his words muffled against Shawn’s skin and damp hair. “This doesn’t change anything between us.” The hold he had on Shawn’s neck became a little tighter. “Even with my…dick in your hand, you still…manage to be all business.” Shawn choked out as Bret’s pace began to quicken. Bret covered Shawn’s mouth, muting the wail expelling from him as he erupted into Bret’s hand. Shawn clawed at his hold with his own constrained wrists, his hips rutting wildly into Bret’s palm as he rode out his orgasm.       

Bret released Shawn, letting him drop to the mattress. He lay there exhausted, chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Shawn twisted his wrists from the tied up shirt, easily exiting his confines. “Bret baby…” Shawn with eyes still glazed over, rolled to face him. “Please, let me make you feel good too.” he begged, crawling between Bret’s legs to play with the drawstrings of his sweats. He lifted Bret’s shirt, kissing gently at his stomach. The touch of Shawn’s lips pressing at his skin made him shiver and the thought alone of the blonde going down on him was damn near enough to make him come. Against his better judgment, he leaned back and let Shawn take control. 

Shawn slid his sweats and underwear down, revealing his throbbing erection. Without much pause, Shawn took him into his mouth. He let his eyes flutter shut, Shawn clearly had done this a time or two. His mouth felt so warm, so good, his tongue hitting all the right places. He clutched at Shawn’s hair, allowing his fingers to entangle themselves. “God damn Michaels…” he managed to groan as Shawn licked up the length of his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Shawn was unrelenting as he held tightly to Bret’s thighs, keeping him in place as his hips bucked desperately into the heat of Shawn’s mouth. He couldn’t help the mangled cry Shawn managed to pry out of him as he came. “Holy shit.” he breathed, unable to form anything else articulate. 

The rain seemed to intensify outside the window, brisk air filtering in and caressing their moist bodies. Shawn had positioned himself on top of Bret’s stomach, his chin resting on crossed arms. “I bet you didn’t hate me just now.” he purred. “Fuck you.” Bret smirked, propping a hand behind his neck. His dark eyes met Shawn’s baby blues. “What now?” Shawn asked. Bret’s other hand traveled down to brush the hair from Shawn’s face, tucking a rogue lock behind his ear. “I don’t know. We have to get up soon.” Shawn emitted a breathy sigh, “Let’s stay like this a bit longer.” he insisted. The Heartbreak Kid’s eyes closed as he leaned into the way Bret lazily threaded his fingers through his golden hair. 

Internally Bret felt the need to run, this dangerously bordered on affection. He should shove the younger man away, tell him to get lost, and figure out what to do before their next show. However, his needs and wants were very different. He had said nothing would change, but deep down he knew neither of them believed that. Would they fall back into their rivalry or back into bed? What was to follow after, they couldn’t know now and they didn’t have to address it just yet. This sweet silence was preferred to all the bullshit they put each other through. Even if they had got it wrong, they could figure out the details later. Before the other knew it, the sound of the rain mixed with their slow breathing lulled them to sleep. 

This quiet moment was theirs to keep.

[stawpny]

I’m bored and ao3 is kinda dry (atleast for the wttt ny tag)

so here are some NY ships I NEED to see more of 🙏

—

MassYork: ok, I used to be almost totally opposed to this, seeing them having more of a brotherly relationship but with history n stuff it’s kinda not possible. But anyway, probably my main ship for now, bc OHMYGOD “nobody can kill you but me”? GET OUT, GET MARRIED, PLEASE.

like if it’s Mass/Cali/York or Mass/Jersey/York I will eat it up.

no questions, it is already in my mouth. I am eating the fuck outta this.

GeoYork: in my mind they have a cute dynamic. I feel they would be best friends as younger colonies and then have a very complicated relationship until they finally get together. Slowburn kinda, also kinda they have been in relationships dozens of times but something always happens. and isn’t Georgia called the “Empire State of the South”? or am I just hearing things

peach + apple? cobbler + pie? idek but I love them

TexYork: guys pls. southern gentleman and city boy? literally perfect for each other. they would make fun of each other endlessly. accents, vocabulary, actions, plus so much more because they’re very different.

TX taking York to his ranch to meet bro’s cows??? yes please. I’d like to meet Betsy too .

^TexaCaliYork: also a fire ship (see what I did there?) like the ship above, but with the hipster in it aswell. Texas and Cal constantly bicker like children and York sorts it out like a teacher would.

NY: you hurt his feelin’s, go apologize.

TX, scoffing: fine, but don’t expect me to get along with him after.

(spoiler alert!! York forces them into a cuddle pile afterwards to get over there lifelong beef)

IlliYork: they’re enemies, they’re lovers, the whole kit-and-caboodle. they’d switch hats sometimes and hold each others hand when they’re in their cities. they’re idiots and the Midwest and the Northeast hate them for it. It’s kinda gross but in a good way.

they’d be the couple who like hold hands in public but not make a single move other than that to show that they love the other. absolutely no kissing in public, they would just sit there in silence with a death grip on the other’s hand. they would totally insult each other to the face and then say, “Love you, tho.”

FloYork: fun fact: they are absolutely insane together. They influence each other and constantly say stupid shit. Florida would force York outta his comfort zone from time to time but the inner extrovert masked by New York’s fake introvert personality will do it almost willingly. he puts up a “fight” but he would deadass do it bc he thinks this shit is hilarious.

NY would be a little like Florida even if they weren’t dating. like NYC is absolutely batshit so that would mean York would have to be a little too.

NY/CA/TX/FL/LA: little crazy, ik, but I remember reading fics abt these five (including gov, but I’m still questioning if he would be in here or not) and absolutely devouring them. spectacular ship. it’s like a little bit of everything, except the Midwest and the other western states, but almost everything. I would love to see more of them.

they would def fight over each other. (who got to hold hands with who, who got to sleep/cuddle with who, etc.)

—

I’m not forcing you to give into my opinions, but if u like these, I like you 😼

some of these hc’s are not entirely mine, some were influenced, tho most are from the rotting part of my brain

I hope u use these ships in the future or I might spontaneously combust

(spoiler alert 2!! I will still explode [out of love] if u write about them)

ily guys

[somanyratsinthewalls]

HI HI HELLO, Just saw your recs. we’re open and i thought i’d chime in! Maybe both Usopp and the strawhat reader are virgins, and decide to have their first time together to “be more experienced”? but..it’s ends up being friends to lovers!! feel free to ignore if you don’t like it or don’t feel comfortable filling it tho!

HI FRIEND!!

Pairing: Usopp x Afab!Reader

WC: 2900 ehehehe

Summary: You and your close friend Usopp decide to bite the bullet and lose your virginity to each other to get that awkward first time out of the way. Will it lead to more?

TW: alcohol consumption, nicotine consumption (don’t do it!), virginity loss, first time awkwardness, making out, fingering, heavy petting, condom usage, early bustin, p in v sex, they're so cute idk

Tags: My moot @usopp-enjoyer hope you love it (also pls enjoy other Usopp fuckers)

— —

“I’m way more of a tits guy. I mean, I’m not one to ignore a nice ass, but a super rack is really what does it for me.” Franky remarks taking a swig of his cola as he sits at the table with Sanji, Zoro and Usopp after dinner aboard the Sunny one night. 

“How could you even choose? The female form is perfect, I simply can’t choose one part over the other.” Sanji smiles dreamily as he takes a drag from his cigarette. “If I did have to pick, the view of a gorgeous ass bouncing while being taken from behind has to be the most perfect sight of all time.” 

“You’ve never seen that a day in your life, shitty cook.” Zoro smirks and takes a big gulp of sake. 

“I’ve certainly seen it more than you, moss head! All you care about is playing with your stupid swords, I doubt you’ve ever been with a woman like that!” Sanji furrows his curly brows and shouts at the swordsman.

“Obviously I have, it’s the best way to take a girl. Gripping her hair and just drilling into her until she’s screaming…” Zoro leans back in his chair, seemingly visualizing the act. 

“Jeez guys… can we not?” Usopp felt his face heat up at the lewd conversation. He was hoping the focus didn’t turn to him being so obviously inexperienced. The discourse continued despite his protest. 

“Nah bro, don’t sleep on missionary! If you think missionary is boring, you’re just bad at sex!” Franky loudly exclaims. 

“You have a point. How could it possibly be boring? Looking down and seeing a woman writhing around under your touch? Being able to watch her face as she cums? Absolute perfection.” Sanji brings his fingers to his lips and mimics a chef’s kiss. 

“I-I’m heading to bed, night guys.” Usopp quickly excuses himself from the table, face flushed with embarrassment and nervousness. He swiftly heads out from the galley to the deck and found you sitting up against the railing of the ship enjoying a glass of wine and a cigarette. 

You turn your head in the direction of the man leaving the galley and smile. 

“Hi Usopp, how’s everything going with the boys?” You ask. 

“Oh, uh, hi y/n. Good. I mean um? Fine I guess. I was gonna go to bed.” He stutters out nervously, unable to make eye contact with you. 

“Are you okay? Your face is bright red and you seem uncomfortable. I mean… more uncomfortable than usual.” You say with a hint of concern in your voice. “Come sit with me?” You pat the spot next to you on the deck. You always were better at reading Usopp than he was at reading himself. 

Usopp lets out a big sigh and sits down cross legged next to you and puts his head in his hands propped up on his elbows on his knees. 

“It just got kind of weird in there. I hate when they go on and on about… you know… sex…” Usopp finally admits. 

“And it makes you uncomfortable because you’ve never had sex, right?”

He nods. 

“I know how you feel. Nami and Robin do the same thing. I know that might be hard to believe but women are just as vulgar as men. It makes me feel insecure about being a virgin, so I get it.” You commiserate with Usopp because you really knew exactly how he was feeling. 

“Wait you’re a virgin too?!” Usopp snaps his head in your direction, finally being able to look you in the eye. 

“Yeah, you didn’t know that? It’s not like I’m saving it for anything, I just never really have found the right time or the right person I guess. The only relief I get is from ole reliable.” You raise your right hand and wiggle your fingers in Usopp’s direction. He blushes. 

“S-same. I just don’t want it to be awkward when I finally get around to having sex. Everyone always says the first time is so bad…” 

“For you? Yeah right! I’m the one who is constantly being told it’s going to hurt! I don’t want to do it with just anyone in case it is painful!” You take another drag of your cigarette, scoffing at the fact that a man is telling you he’s nervous to lose his virginity. 

“Okay okay maybe you’re right about that part… I just want to get it over with so I can stop worrying about it.” Usopp hangs his head in his hands again. 

There was a pregnant pause. 

“Well… we could… have sex… with each other?” You sheepishly suggest. 

“WHAT?” He snaps his head back up at you. 

“Is it that silly of an idea? We both said we wanted to get our first time out of the way and get some… experience… right?”

“R-right now? I don’t think I-“ Usopp stutters, incredibly flustered but also interested in your proposal. 

“Not right now!” You laugh and put your hand on his shoulder. “Maybe tomorrow? My room? After dinner? Unless you don’t want to, which I completely understand and we can forget this ever happened." 

“I-I do! I think it’s uh.. it’s a great idea… tomorrow then…” Usopp rises to his feet and bids you a nervous goodnight as you finish your wine on the deck. 

— —

The next evening you couldn’t help but buzz with excitement as you skip to the showers after dinner. You make sure to shave and lather your body in sweet smelling body wash in preparation for your “date.” You don your nicest matching bra and panties, a lacy black set, and pull some casual clothes over them. You light a few candles around your room to set the mood. You weren’t sure what kind of mood you were trying to set exactly, feeling a bit silly, but you still wanted to enjoy your first time even if it was going to be awkward. Soon enough you hear a knock at your door. 

You open your bedroom door to see a blushing Usopp with a single, beautiful red flower in his hands. 

“Uh, hi, y/n.” He smiles softly and hands you the flower. 

“For me? You’re so sweet.” 

“I grew it myself so maybe don’t… don’t get too close.. it might explode. I haven’t quite figured this one out yet…” 

You chuckle and move to gently set the flower down on your end table. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this? We really don’t have to, it was just an idea, Usopp.” 

“Yes! Yes, I really do want to. It’s… it’s about time, right?” He laughs nervously. 

You nod. 

“Come, sit with me.” You grab Usopp’s hand and pull him to sit next to you on your bed. You were anxious, but you could tell he was far more so. You raise your hands and pull his bucket hat off his head. You smoothly brush one of his now exposed dark curls out of his face. 

“I guess we should probably kiss first.. right?” You say as you cock your head and smile at him gently. 

“Yeah…” 

You close your eyes and lean in and press your lips softly against his. After a few moments, you shift your body closer to his and begin kissing him deeper with your hands on either side of his face. It was a bit uncoordinated, but Usopp eventually moves his hands to your hips and kisses you back with a bit more confidence. His kisses were messy, not at all experienced. You couldn’t help but wonder, had he even kissed anyone before? I mean, even you had gotten to first base… 

You slide your tongue gently along his bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. Once granted, your tongue slips into his mouth eliciting a small whimper from the man in your gentle hold. You found yourself becoming wetter by the second as he lets out little sighs of contentment during your kiss. Eventually, you pull away. You tug at the straps of his coveralls. 

“Could you take these off? I’ll take mine off too…” You ask while already lifting your crop top over your head. 

“Sure just a second I- um…” Usopp stands and fumbles with his clothes before eventually dropping them to the floor. You had already shed your sweatpants and were laying back on your bed in your bra and panties. 

“Woah, y/n…” Your cowardly sniper is in awe at the sight of your body adorned with black lace laying barely covered on the bed before him. “You’re… beautiful…” 

Your face flushes red and you press your legs together to somehow try to cover yourself. 

“You’re not so bad yourself…” You giggle. “Come here.” You beckon him to come join you on the bed again. You raise your torso up to meet his lips again in a passionate kiss. After a few moments, Usopp reaches his hands around your back to undo your bra. His fingers fumble for quite awhile and he mumbles into your lips. 

“No, I got it.. just a second… hold on… there!” Finally your bra comes undone and he pulls it off your body onto the floor. Usopp leans back to marvel in the sight of your naked breasts. “Y/n can I…?” 

“Yes!” You cut him off, wanting to feel more of his body and mouth on your skin. Usopp leans down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth and gropes your other breast with his hand. 

“Oh!” You gasp, reveling in the new sensation. 

Your newfound lover messily switches from one breast to the other, a string of saliva connecting his trembling lips to your body. You grip his thick, gorgeously coarse hair and push his head into your chest further, encouraging his actions. After a few moments or servicing your sensitive nipples with this lips and tongue, Usopp pulls back and lifts his head to look you in the eye. 

“Do you want to..?” He asks shyly. 

“Yes, want you so badly, Usopp…” You breath out under him. 

Usopp momentarily leaves the bed to retrieve something from his overalls pocket. After Usopp returns to your side with a condom, you slip off your panties. 

“Where the hell did you get that? Saving it for a rainy day?” You question him teasingly. 

“Pfft yeah right. Stole it from Sanji’s room. He isn’t using it any time soon.” Usopp smirks and positions himself on top of you again. You laugh. 

“You’re so bad.” You jokingly slap your hands against his smooth chest. 

“You like it.” Usopp chuckles and leans in to kiss you again. After kissing for a few moments you pull back.

“Maybe I do… take these off.” You pull at the waistband of his briefs and he obliges your request by pulling them down to free his throbbing cock. It wasn’t huge but it was certainly big enough to wonder how it was going to fit inside of you. 

“It’s… it’s okay, right?” Usopp asks uncertainly. 

“Oh sweetheart, of course it is. Maybe even a bit too much… do you think you could maybe… prep me a little first?” You ask a bit embarrassed. You were so aroused, but you just didn’t want it to hurt. 

“How do I… OH! Yeah I can do that I think…” Usopp snakes his hand down your body and cups your mound. “Can you show me?” He starts to rub tentatively at your sex. 

You slide both of your hands down to your center. With one hand you use your pointer and middle fingers to spread your sticky folds apart. With the other, you grab Usopp’s fingers and bring them to your clit and begin to use them to rub gentle circles. You let out a long sigh. 

“Just like this is good…” You softly moan and you let your head fall back. After rubbing at your clit for awhile, your move Usopps’s fingers to your entrance and guide one of them inside your wet hole. You gasp lightly at the intrusion, but you grab his wrist and prompt him to move his hand. 

“Shit… you can add another one now…” 

“R-right okay…” Usopp slips his second digit inside of you. “Is this- does it feel good?” He asks. 

“Pull them up like this…” You mimic exactly how you do it yourself and Usopp curls his fingers upwards inside of you and you feel him hit that delicious soft spot. “There! Keep touching me there!” 

“Like this?” Usopp continues to pull and tap on your g-spot and you involuntarily arch your back. 

“Fuck, yes baby, just like that… you’re doing so well, you’re gonna make me cum. Keep going just like that…” You gasp as Usopp brings his free hand to rub at your clit as he massages your insides with his fingers just the way you’ve instructed him. 

“Really?! I-I mean… shit, you’re so hot… I wanna see you cum so bad…” He honestly couldn’t believe he had you like this in front of him, laid out naked and moments from climaxing, all from his doing. 

“Gonna cum, don’t stop, shit-Ah!!” You moan out loudly as you release directly all over Usopp’s working hands. Your legs shake and your head falls back on the pillows. 

You breathe heavily while laying on your back, recovering from your orgasm as you hear your lover fiddling with the foil condom package. His hands were shaking. 

“Let me…” You sit up and grab the condom from his hands and tear it open. You gingerly lean forward and grab Usopp’s sensitive length and roll the condom on for him. He shudders as your soft hands touch his dick. 

“Thanks, y/n…” He smiles down at you nervously.  “You ready?” He asks, still wanting to make sure you were certain about this. 

“Yes, please fuck me now, Usopp.” You lay back and spread your legs so he could slot himself comfortably between them. He pushes himself close to you and lines his tender, throbbing cock up with your soaking hole. “Please be gentle…” 

“Of course, y/n, I won’t hurt you.” Usopp begins to push his member into your tight entrance and you suck in a breath. “Breathe, y/n, it’s okay, I’m almost in…” You could feel Usopp’s callused hands shaking on your hips, trying to keep his composure. 

“Hnnnn…” You whine and grab Usopp’s biceps. The stretch was uncomfortable, but not nearly as bad as you were expecting. You finally feel his pelvis flush against yours as he fills you completely. “Ahh…” You whimper out. 

“Shit, y/n you’re so tight… I’m not gonna last long…” Usopp pants out. 

“It’s okay.. you can move now.. please…” You pull him down by his neck and he begins experimentally thrusting into you. The pain began to meld into pleasure as your cunt begin to flutter involuntarily around Usopp’s thick length. 

“You feel so fucking good, holy shit y/n…” Usopp lifts his head from its hiding place in your neck and smashes his lips onto yours in a deep kiss. You moan into his mouth as he hits an extra deep spot in your tight cunt. “Wanna be inside of you forever…” Usopp grinds his hips into yours and whines. 

“Fuck me harder, Usopp, want to feel you!” You cry out. He obliges and starts pounding into you with reckless abandon. Years of celibacy were being taken out on your pussy and it felt so good. By the deep grip on your hips you were certain he wasn’t going to last much longer, but you wanted to feel him while you could. “I-I’m gonna-shit, fuck, shit!” Usopp spills his load into the condom and quickly collapses on top of you. You soothingly rub his back and draw circles into his shoulders with your fingers as he catches his breath. He rolls off of you and removes the condom from his softened member, tossing it into the waste basket next to your bed. He sits up next to you in bed. 

“I-I’m sorry… it probably wasn’t really that-“

“It was so great, Usopp. Thank you. I’m really glad we did that.” You smile up at him from your position laying on your pillows. 

“Y-yeah.. it was great, wasn’t it?” Usopp laughed. “I guess I’ll get my stuff and go then…” 

“Why?” You ask. 

“Well we just agreed on the sex and I-“ 

“I want you here. Stay with me.” You pull on his hand and bring him back down to lay with you in bed. 

“You’re sure?” Usopp looked at you like he could barely believe what he was hearing. 

“Listen Usopp, I know we’re friends but after that… I kind of want to see where it goes from here… I can’t help but feel like that meant something, not just to me but to you, too.” You caress the side of his face as he lays next to you on the pillow. “We don’t have to hash it out tonight, but… could you just stay with me and see?” You ask. 

“I guess… but if you want to kick me out in the morning, you just say the word!” 

“Shut up and go to bed, Usopp.” You laugh and nuzzle your head into his chest so that you can comfortably drift off to sleep. 

xx Mo

[the-badger-mole]

The Netflix Live!action ATLA is airing in Feb, are you excited by it? I’m hoping with the exit of Bryke… maybe (and I know I might just be putting on clown make up, but…) they’ll change endgame to Zutara?

I'm not planning to watch the LA ATLA, honestly. For the sake of other Zutara fans who are excited for the show, I hope Zutara is endgame, and I hope it's well written. But honestly, it changes nothing for me. I'm going to ship Zutara whether some writer/director says it's okay or not. Because being a Zutara shipper legit makes me a pirate. I'm totally fine with that.

Frankly, I'm also a bit wary of the new wave of fans this is going to bring into the fandom. As much as I'd like not to feel that way, the last batch of new fans brought this weird brand of moralizing that has been really annoying to this day. If I have to open the tag to find some new posts by people who apparently didn't have to do literature or media analysis in school whining about what characters you "shouldn't hate on" because they've convinced themselves that treating fictional characters like real people makes them somehow morally superior, I may scream. I may crawl through my computer and into their homes so I can scream in their faces. They got me out here feeling like Dr. Cox.

[dragons-i-guess]

So I've noticed in the past couple weeks that the Zutara vs Kataang ship war seems to have intensified in the last few weeks, likely as a result of the live action ATLA coming out on Netflix. I've been mostly experiencing it from the Zutara side since I follow #zutara but not #kataang. That being said though, I'm really sad about the number of attacks coming from both sides. I've actually seen a lot more Zutara attacks on Kataang than vice versa (again probably because of which tags I follow), but I've seen a lot of Zutara people talking about the attacks they've fielded on their Zutara posts from pro-Kataang people. And this just really makes me sad. Why can't we enjoy both? Why can't we acknowledge the beauty in both? Why does one have to be "right" and one "wrong?" You don't have to put others down in order to enjoy what you enjoy.

I know there's people who see problematic aspects in Kataang, and similarly there's also people who see problematic aspects in Zutara. I'm not saying they're not there. I'm not saying you aren't valid for disliking one or both ships because of said problems. But no need to rain on other people's parades, yeah? It's perfectly valid if you can't overlook the flaws in certain characters or character dynamics, especially if they're close to your heart and your lived experience, but that doesn't mean the people who can look past them are evil or villainous or morally corrupt. Just because something has flaws doesn't mean the people who enjoy it are enjoying it because of the flaws. It's perfectly fine to call out and discuss the issues in Kataang like Aang kissing her without consent. It's perfectly find to call out and discuss the issues with Zutara, like Katara's people having been effectively genocided by Zuko's. But calling people morally corrupt for enjoying what they enjoy is completely uncalled for.

I hope we can all learn to appreciate the fact that not everyone has the same tastes as us, and that's okay. In fact, it's more than okay, it's wonderful that we all see things differently and find joy in different things. Let's celebrate all of the wonderful fan art and fan fics and what-not that come out of both Zutara and Kataang instead of trying to prove that one is "better" than the other.