#also can you tell how much I'm in love with the header

[siyzuii]

⨳ 　 ʾ apps/sites 4 shifting 　 . 　 ♡

hi! this will be long but i made a list of apps/sites that might be helpful for your shifting journey. reminder that you don't need these to shift but they can be helpful with manifesting, keeping track of stuff, etc.

enjoy! divider cr

NOT SPONSORED BTW LMAO

﹒ 　 ⊹ 　 🝮 　 OO1: NOTION 　 ✩

description:

basically notion is an app for documents and stuff. i have to say this one's relatively known and it's such a huge life saver and i know that probably everyone knows about it already (as they should) but i'm gonna recommend it once again.

useful for:

scripting

dashboards you can add life goals & stuff here you can look up some templates/ideas and see what i mean LOL

cons:

i personally can not think of any major ones because this app is just that good

you do have to make new accounts for the text ai generating feature but i don't know if anyone would use that

additional notes:

i personally love how customizable it is! like you can make each page have a custom icon & header, add widgets, images, and so much more. it is so so so insanely helpful for scripting i'm telling you. or you can just be basic, that works too. there's also a bunch of script templates online including specific ones (like a better cr, fame dr, fantasy dr, fandom-specific drs, bla bla bla) and it's literally the only thing shifttok is good for imo. i'm a big fan of shifterium's templates but there's other people who make them as well and i'm sure you can find some recommendations!

★ 　 ₊ 　 ➲ 　OO2: CANVA

description:

a website + app where you can design stuff from headers down to presentations, posters, covers, etc..

useful for:

album covers for singer/idol drs

book covers for writer drs or something

fake social media posts but there's better apps out there and i'll list them here as well

and much more!

cons:

a lot of things (most of which i think are the good stuff) are paid but you can find similar replicas if you scroll long enough i guess..?? and there's a free trial but i don't know if that helps

additional notes:

definitely my favorite place to go when i need to design something tbh. there's a bunch of templates you can use and the layout is very easy to navigate through! and it's pretty easy to find free alternatives for the paid stuff you do have in there

₍ⁿ⑅..ⁿ₎ 　 ˇ 　 ⩩ 　 OO3: PARROT 　 ❀ 　

description:

parrot is an app where you can record yourself saying literally anything and play it on a continuous loop

useful for:

affirmations (manifesting??)

cons:

i'm pretty sure it's iOS only

additional notes:

personally i haven't used this app (i don't like my voice so i will not be recording myself saying affirmations thank yew) so i can't give it a rating but from the looks of it and based off of recommendations i've seen it's pretty useful. should be a white icon with a pink circle that has a white parrot in it!

≥≤ 　 ﹕ 　 ⤷ 　 OO4: BEHINDTHENAME 　 ◍

description:

a site where you can generate names & even life stories if you choose it (including height, weight, blood type, birthday, nationality and more i think?? at least it gives those for me). you can choose from different cultures and stuff like fantasy & mythology.

useful for:

finding a name & info for your dr self (which is literally you by the way don't forget that!) and potentially other people you'd like to script in

cons:

it really just helps to make a basic profile of a person so the things you can do with it can be a little limited

additional notes:

i prefer using this site for ocs instead but i think it can definitely help with shifting! oddly enough it also shows like a lifespan & cause of death so.. cool i guess!!!!

✦ 　 ﹕ 　 OO5: SOCIAL MAKER/dummy

description:

social maker & social dummy are both apps where you can replicate almost basically anything from the internet from twitter posts to facebook posts, youtube posts, and more!

useful for:

social media stuff especially useful for fame drs, streamer drs, idol/singer drs and so much more

cons:

both apps were deleted so you have to have had installed them before if you want to get them back

social maker is ios only i think?

additional notes:

yeah both apps are deleted but there's alternatives out there like twinote (for twitter) photonote (for instagram) canva (has fake social media templates as i said lol) and others that you can look for (because i personally only use twinote)

⋆ 　 ᶻᶻ 　 　 OO6: HELLOFACE 　 ﹒ 　 ★

description:

basically an app for ai face swapping

useful for:

seeing what your face claim (if you have one) would look like on for example dances, fancams, interviews definitely useful for idol/singer/maybe fame drs

cons:

uses ai (i'm personally not a big fan of ai)

pretty underground so the chances that you might not like it are not low

✭ 　 　 ❒︎ 　 OO7: ROOM PLANNER 　 . 　 ♡

description:

basically what the name says. it's a 3d home designer

useful for:

making your dr room/house

visualizing your dr room/house

cons:

has paid stuff

┊ 　 ‧ 　⬭ 　 OO8: COMBYNE

description:

an app where you can combine items you like from a wide selection of stuff to make outfits!

useful for:

making outfits for your dr

visualizing said outfits

additional notes:

there's other things you can do on the app like challenges where you can compete to make the best outfit i think?? looks pretty fun i might try it HAHAHA

yuh so i got a little lazy here at the end & i know this is prolly not very helpful because most of these apps/sites are pretty well known but maybe just maybe.. i helped someone out...

HAPPY SHIFTING!!!!!

[chronically-ghosted]

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –  Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.  OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

🤍Masterlist 🤍Pero Tovar Masterlist

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits. 

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle. 

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on. 

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights. 

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will. 

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor. 

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him. 

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down. 

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window. 

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.” 

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world. 

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell. 

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?” 

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men. 

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again. 

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet. 

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare. 

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again. 

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.” 

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword. 

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm. 

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.” 

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.” 

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.” 

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too. 

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight. 

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with. 

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand. 

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.” 

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm. 

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . .  say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?” 

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.” 

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way? 

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.” 

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart. 

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar. 

Fuck it. 

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.” 

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth. 

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?” 

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last. 

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape. 

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you. 

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob. 

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.” 

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under. 

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.” 

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his. 

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar. 

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe. 

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on." 

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him. 

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised. 

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places. 

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword. 

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress. 

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed. 

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him. 

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh. 

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor. 

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.” 

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both. 

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips. 

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils. 

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm. 

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand. 

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.” 

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body. 

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing. 

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress. 

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace. 

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs. 

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear. 

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth. 

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough. 

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly. 

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving. 

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire. 

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets. 

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again. 

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care. 

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter. 

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.” 

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest. 

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.” 

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.” 

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.” 

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more. 

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss. 

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.” 

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.” 

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.” 

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.” 

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble. 

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs. 

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides. 

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.” 

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips. 

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest. 

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks. 

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted. 

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it. 

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known. 

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart. 

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you. 

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

+

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

[homestylehughes]

wanna bet?

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summray: you make a bet with quinn, which of you will win?

wc: 2.9K

warnings: nsfw 18+ smut, unprotected sex, p in v (practice safe sex guys!), oral fem receiving, spitting, cussing, dirty talk. there's some plot but it's mostly smut.

an: OH BOYYYYYY... i'm a little nervous to post this... GULP. it's my first time writing smut, so hopefully you guys all enjoy!! it took me like 4 hours LOL! writing smut is hard guys... thank you to all of my smut writing warriors. ALSO i tried my hand at making a header for my work, i kinda like it?? i cant tell if i ate or not..LMFAO. anyways im done yapping. like and reblog if you like, as always much love as always.

happy reading <3

“We should make a bet.” I say to Quinn as we’re getting ready for a home game between the Canucks and Winnipeg Jets. 

He looks at me confusingly as he finishes tying his tie in the mirror. “What kind of bet are we talking about?” he mutters back. “I don't know, something spicy and fun '' I say, as I make my way over to him to fix his crooked tie. 

“Hm..i like the sound of that” quinn says, as he rests his hands on my waist pulling me closer to his body.  I chuckle at his sudden change in interest, finally fixing his tie, I rake my eyes over his face. 

“I have an idea,” I say as our eyes remain locked, “and what's that baby?” Quinn says, I can feel his gaze now locked on my lips. 

“If you score tonight, i'll let you do whatever you want to me.'' I say, as I slowly trace my hands around his neck to play with his hair, leaning my body further into his. “if you don't score, i get to do whatever i want to you, but you can't touch.” 

I can feel quinns breath hitch in his throat, as I press myself completely against his front, planting soft kisses down his neck and across his jaw. His hands moving from my waist, to my ass, griping is hard and pulling me even tighter against him. 

Quinn tips his head down to try and connect our lips together, I quickly move my head to avoid his kiss. “How do those conditions sound?” I say, looking at quinns now flushed state. 

“They sound really good, baby, they would sound even better if you'd let me kiss you.” he says, slowly moving our faces closer together. 

I slowly shake my head no, as I pull myself apart from him. “ I have to finish getting ready, and so do you.” I say, while looking at a wide eyed, flustered quinn. 

“You actually hate me, don't you?” Quinn says, looking at me, still wide eyed. “no i don't, i just like making you suffer.'' I grin back at him. 

“So are we shaking on this?” Quinn says, finally collecting himself. Without a word I held my hand out to him, waiting for him to grasp it. Our eyes are locked, as Quinn pulls his arm forward, his hand finally finding mine, pulling it into a firm handshake. “you're on Hughes,” I said to him. “No you're on, I'm scoring tonight, just for you baby '' Quinn says grinning at me like a kid in a candy store. 

I step forward and press a sweet kiss on his lips, pulling away before he has the chance to deepen it, “may the best man win” i say before turning away from him, to finish getting ready. 

I'm nervous, not for the game, but for tonight. My nerves are getting the best of me as I sit in the stands waiting for the puck to drop. My eyes follow Quinn as they warm up on the ice.

 I'm starting to think I'm a dumbass for even betting on this. Quinn is super competitive, he's not going to let me win, but damn do I want to win. 

Pushing those thoughts to the back of my head, I settle in my seat, gaze locked on ice as the first whistle signaling the game has begun goes off. 

      This is going to be a long game, a long night, I think to myself. 

The Canucks win in a shutout, 5-0. I couldn't be more proud of them as they skate off the ice. Most importantly I couldn't be more proud of myself for finally winning a bet against quinn. 

They played an incredible game tonight, with 5 amazing goals, not none of those coming from quinn. I couldn't help but secretly be happy that he didn't score. 

I leave the stands and make my way towards the locker room, waiting for Quinn to finish up with getting ready and press interviews. Around 45 minutes later, I see Quinn make his way towards me. I open my arms to him, grasping him in a hug, “good game baby” I say to him as he pulls away, whispering a small “thank you” in my direction. 

We start to make our way to the parking lot, silence surrounds us, it starts to make me nervous. “Any updates on Thatcher?” I ask, who went to the locker room during the second period, with an injury. “We don't know too much right now, hopefully we get some updates tomorrow morning on his status.'' Quinn says as he throws his bags in the back seat of the car, before sliding over to open the passenger door for me.

 “Hopefully he’s okay, I'm sure he is. He's a tough guy, keep me updated when you get any information." I say to Quinn, as he's pulling out of the parking lot. “I will.” he says shortly. I frown at his shortness, in the conversation. 

“Are you okay?” i ask him quietly, “yeah, im okay.” he replies back quickly. Not wanting to push, I decided that's a good enough answer, keeping my gaze locked on my lap the whole way home. 

The car comes to a stop, signaling that we made home. I quickly got out of the car, wanting to escape the tension that was starting to suffocate me. Unlocking the door quickly, speeding my way upstairs to the bathroom, not even looking back to see if Quinn was behind me. 

Closing the bathroom door quickly, I take a deep breath to regain my thoughts. Is Quinn mad at me? Is he upset over Demko? Upset that I won the bet? Upset that he didn't score? I don't want him to be upset with me, especially over this, this was supposed to be hot and cute and now i feel like it's blown up in my face. A bet that I don't even care about at this point. 

5 minutes later, after I've calmed myself down. I see Quinn on the edge of the bed, when I open the bathroom door. Taking another deep breath, I start to make my way across our bedroom to the closet. As I'm beginning to pass the bed where Quinn sits, I feel him grab my leg, pulling me back towards him. 

My nerves are rising again. I'm now in between Quinn's legs, looking down at my feet as I wait for him to say something. I feel his hands run up my thighs, gripping them with a slight pressure. Trailing them higher on my body, over the Hughes jersey that covers my upper half. Quinns hands, finding their home on my waist, for the second time today. 

“Baby, look at me,” Quinn says, gently but with authority. I slowly lift my head up to lock my eyes to his. “I think we have a bet to take care of.” he says to me, my brain doesn't even register what he just said to me, before i start speaking. “are you mad at me? I feel like you're mad at me. We don't have to do this, it's just a bet it doesn't really matter to me Quinn. I thought this was a good idea earlier but now i dont think it's a good idea. I know you're definitely mad at-” 

  I'm quickly cut off by the feeling of quinns lips on mine. Taking me by surprise it takes my body a few seconds to respond. Once I do, my hands are instantly finding his hair, as Quinn pulls me down so I'm now straddling his lap, our kiss getting more intense by the second. 

I began to grind myself on his bulge that I felt growing beneath me. Quinn begins painting beneath me, his mouth opening enough for me to slide my tongue into his mouth, pulling myself into him. Our mouths began to fight for dominance. Our bodies move against each other at a faster rate. Quinns hands pushed my waist hard against his, causing me to moan into his mouth. 

Quinn pulls back suddenly, causing me to wine more. “Does it look like I'm upset with you baby?” he asks me as he starts to suck on my neck leaving kisses in his wake, causing me to arch my back closer into his mouth. Pulling away from my neck, looking at each other as we’re both panting. “I was acting like a sore loser” quinns says while rubbing slow circles on my thigh, eyes still locked with mine. “I don't like losing, and I really don't like not being able to have my way with you, not being able to touch you.” he breathes out at me. I'm struggling to find my words while he's looking at me like that. 

“Quinn. I don't care about this stupid bet anymore, I want you now." I don't even wait for him to respond to me before I'm crushing our lips back together. The kiss is hot, with need and want. Our teeth and tongues clashing together. 

I find the will to pull myself off Quinn, now standing in front of him. Without saying anything, I began to peel off my clothes. Pulling off the jersey, leaving me in a black lacy bra, and my jeans. Quickly moving my hands to my jeans, unbuttoning them quickly, pulling them down with my underwear, kicking them off my feet. Reaching behind me and unclasping my bra. Leaving me completely bare in front of Quinn.

“I want you naked, now.” I say to Quinn, who moves in supersonic speed pulling off his clothes and throwing them somewhere behind me. 

“Fuck baby.'' Quinn says as he's pulling me into him again. “You look so hot right now, all for me too.” tracing his hands down my bare sides, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps in his wake. 

Leaning forward he begins to press kisses against my stomach making his way down to my pussy, my breath begins to hitch, I'm afraid my legs are going to buckle beneath me. “Can I taste you baby? I want to taste your sweet pussy,  haven't in so long.” he says, as he slowly pulls my thighs apart. I can't find it within me to stop him, I don't care about the bet anymore. I need him to do something. “Yes please” I told him. He doesn't need to be told twice. 

Quinn quickly throws me down on the bed, my body making a small thud as it hits the bed. Quinn immediately pulled my thighs apart so he could rest between them.

 I'm knocked out of my daze, as I feel Quinn start to press kisses on the inside of my thighs, my breath is beginning to quicken again. “Look at me baby” he says, as he lifts his head to reach my eyes.

 I crane my neck to meet his gaze. Getting a good look at him, pupils blown with lust, his lips swollen and red, hair a mess, seeing him in this state turns me on even more. 

“Please Quinn,” I yelled out to him, shifting my body closer to his face. I need something, anything. ‘So impatient” Quinn chuckles, as he leans in closer to my pussy, so close I can feel his breath fan on my folds, causing me to slowly moan. “Keep your eyes on mine or I will stop. Got it?” he roughly says to me, nodding my head yes quickly. “Words baby” he says, “yes, yes quinn” i say urgently. 

Before I know it his face is diving into my cunt, his tongue instantly finding my clit, making arch my back into him. “Fuck” i say in a strangled moan, as my hands find their way to quinns hair, pushing his face deeper in my cunt. 

His tongue is lapping me up like a grown man starving, his hands are pushing my legs so hard and so far apart it almost hurts, but I can't find it inside me to care. His pace began to quicken, pushing his tongue in and out of my cunt. “Who got you this wet baby?” he mumbles into my heart. “You! Fuck right there baby” i moan out, as quinn slowly pushes 2 fingers in. 

The pressure is beginning to build in my stomach, between quinn fingering me and lapping and sucking on my clit is enough to push me over the edge. “Harder, faster, fuck quinn.'' I managed to push out, his actions now becoming faster and more aggressive than before. 

Before I realize, my peak is coming. My hips grinding themselves on quinns face,  desperate to cum. “That's it baby, there you go.” he says, as i begin to push myself on his fingers deep inside of me. Moving his thumb to now, rub my clit at a fast rate. “fuck quinn im coming” i push my head flat against the pillow as my body archs into him. “Fuck, don't stop. Quinn please don't stop, please please” i began to blubber out as i began to cum all over his fingers. Continuing to grind myself against him, taking anything that he’ll give me.

Quinns hands keep my thighs from closing shut and he removes his fingers and replaces them with his tongue. Riding me through the last of my orgasm. My moans and pants are filling the room, my breath leaving my lungs as I finally come down from my orgasm. 

Quinn slowly pulled his face away from my heat. “That was the hottest thing, ive never seen, fuck” he says before making his way on top of me, his lips finding mine. 

Wrapping my arms around his neck pulling his chest to mine. Our bodies rocking together, “quinn” i say breathless, as his tongue is attacking my neck, moving his mouth lower down my body. Grasping my left nipple in his mouth, gently biting it, then releasing it into his mouth, wrapping his hot tongue around it. The action causes me to moan loudly, pushing my already close body even closer, if that's even possible.

As good as his assault on my boobs feels, I need him inside of me now. “Quinn” I say firmer this time. Pulling his face to mine, “ i need you to fuck me now, please now” i say panting in his face. 

That seems to flip a switch inside of quinn, he's quickly lining up his cock, with my entrance, slowly pushing himself into me. Quinn goes as he fully enters me, our eyes locking for a quick moment before I lift my head to bring myself to his lips. This kiss is different from the others, love and passion filled, a kiss that isn't rushed. “Can I move baby?” quinn asks from above me, “yes please fuck me” i pant back into his mouth, bringing our lips back together again.

Quinns hips quickly snapping against mine, pulling out fullying before pushing himself back into me. The quick motion caused the both of us to moan loudly, “harder” I moan out to him. “You want me to fuck you harder baby?” Quinn says back to me. To answer his question I push my hips up to meet his thrusts, quinn moves one of his hands from my waist to my right leg, and pushes it above his shoulder. the new angle, hitting a depth i didn't know was even possible. Fucking me at a pace so good, that i didnt want him to stop. 

The sound of groans, moans and our skin meeting and slapping together fills our room, our bodies slick with sweat. My eyes flutter open meeting quinns eyes, as he fucks me so deep and so good, my mouth is hung open but no words are coming out. 

Grabbing my jaws he leans down and spits into my mouth “swallow” he orders, his eyes still locked with mine. I do as he says, swallowing every last bit.

“Fuck you’re so hot” quinn moans at me, as he continues to fuck me. “More more '' I moan loudly at him, Quinn then pushes both of my legs on his shoulders. Fucking me so deep i can feel him in my stomach.

“Im gonna cum, baby” Quinn breathes in my ear, his face dropping to my neck as he picks up his pace. I feel the familiar burn build up in my stomach again. “Don't stop, im almost there please dont stop” i wine at him urging him to go even faster. 

Grabbing our headboard, using more strength to push himself harder into me. One singular snap of his hips causes me to cum. “Quinn quinn, im coming fuck fuck fuck” i moan loudly. “come for me baby fuck” quinn says as he continues to fuck me though my orgasm. 

“Im cumming” he sputters out, his lips finding mine. Our bodies move together as we’re coming down from our highs. 

My legs slowly come down from his shoulders, Quinn slowly pulling out of me, wincing as he does. Collapsing beside me, our chests falling and rising together, pants fill the room still. I turn my body to his hand tracing his chest and neck. Pushing his hair that's fallen in his face back. Quinns arms circled around my waist pulling me closer to him. 

“So much for the bet huh?” he says while laughing, pulling me in for another kiss.

[littlejuicebox]

Labor and joy.

The moment all (some) of you have been waiting for. Welcome to the fanfic, baby Gale.

I'm tired so I'll do my usual header tomorrow when I have time to reformat everything. This will also be lightly edited. Ya'll got a double-feature tonight to make up for my lack of posting during my recovering from illness process.

Warnings: birth, labor, babies, light angst, light gore kinda

Disclaimer: I’ve never had a baby and I am not pregnant nor have I ever been so all this is based off friends, family, and research.

This was never ending. You had been in labor for half the day prior, and now it was well past midnight, but you still were not ready to push. Shadowheart had stepped away a few hours ago for rest. Halsin had since stepped in to take her place and did his best to stay unintrusive in the corner of your bedchambers; it was no easy task with his large frame.

Astarion had been forced to watch you for hours as your face contorted in pain. Contraction after contraction ripped through your frame, and every utterance of discomfort from you was met with soothing ministrations from your husband. He spent hours alternating between sitting beside you and behind you, offering support to the best of his ability as you endured the miserable labor pains.

No amount of screaming, crying, or massaging seemed to help. You were so exhausted, at this point you were barely making any noise as another contraction coursed through you. Sleep was not an option in this state, no matter how much you desired it. 

Astarion sat propped behind you in bed, utterly exhausted himself, and rubbing soothing circles in your back as you did what you could to focus on your breathing. He noted your nightgown was drenched in sticky pools of sweat as you rocked back and forth through sharp breaths, searching for an ounce of relief in the repetitive movement.

“My love, tell me what I can do to help.” He whispers, voice trembling with worry as he presses his long fingers firmly into your lower back, hoping to ease the tension, “I will do anything you ask of me.” 

You don’t respond. You can’t. You can barely breathe through the pain. And truthfully, you don’t know what will help. Nothing seems to at this point. Gods, you are so tired.

“Perhaps we should try a walk, Tav.” Halsin suggests, standing from his corner in the room to join you both by the side of the bed, “Let us head to the kitchen. Walking should ease the pain, and I will make you tea that can help with the contractions.” 

“You can’t be serious, druid!” Astarion snaps, unable to contain his mounting concern for his little love, “Just look at her! I don’t think Tav is in any position to–” 

You haphazardly place a flimsy, trembling warning hand on Astarion’s face and the rest of your husband’s admonishment dies on his lips. You simply nod at Halsin, and gesture for the other elf to help you out of the bed. Two large arms pull you up with relative ease, and you sigh with some relief as the sudden change to standing removes some pain from your lower back.

Astarion moves to follow you, and you wordlessly shake your head as you lean further into the druid. His brows crinkle in a silent question as he watches you; he thinks he’s done something wrong.

Your eyes soften for a moment, and you offer the slightest smile you can muster through your unbelievable discomfort. Your voice is a hoarse whisper when you say, “Stay here, my love. You need a short break. I will be back in mere moments; Halsin can watch over me until then.”

“Tav, it is my job to–” Astarion starts, about to argue the point with you, but Halsin is quick to cut in.

“It is your job to support Tav how she asks you to throughout this process and listen to her desires and needs.” The druid responds, kindly but firmly, offering an encouraging nod to your husband, “We will be but rooms away.” 

The silver-haired elf takes in a sharp breath as he watches your face nervously, mustering all of his patience to acquiesce. The druid is right. Astarion knows it. Your husband nods slowly and sighs while using every ounce of self control within his body to lean back and settle into the bed once again, “If you are certain, my love, then very well. Call for me with the bell, should you two need anything.” 

Halsin grabs the bell from the side table and nods with a final reassuring look at Astarion. And then the two of you begin the slow journey to the kitchen, the druid’s large frame easily bearing the majority of your weight. Your limbs feel like lead beneath you, but the pain is significantly lessened as you pace down the hallway.

Thank the gods for small miracles.

Before long, you are sipping tea in the kitchen as Halsin works to distract you from another vicious contraction with a story about Arabella and Mol. Your head tilts back as you chuckle– the first laugh you’ve had all night. Suddenly, you feel copious amounts of warm, thick fluid dripping down your legs.

“H-halsin, I think it’s time to push.” You gasp, staring down incredulously at the puddle now pooling around your feet. 

“Are you certain, Tav? Shall I check?” Halsin offers, quickly coming to your side, and you shake your head vehemently, far too embarrassed to let the druid perform such an exam, no matter his level of professionalism.

“No— just ring the bell, it will bring Shadowheart and Astarion.” You hiss as another powerful contraction assaults your body, paired with the overwhelming sensation of intense pressure in your pelvis. You are clutching the swell of your abdomen and leaning over the counter as you breathe through the feeling. You don’t know how you know it’s time, but you’re quite certain.

Halsin obliges, and moments later both Shadowheart and Astarion are bursting through the kitchen doors. Shadowheart is in her nightclothes, and her white hair is flying around her shoulders as she makes her way to you. Astarion is wide-eyed in panic on the heels of the cleric, his curls just as disheveled and pajamas crinkled from the stress of the night.

“I think– I think it’s time to push.” You grimace, and Shadowheart quickly performs an exam to confirm your suspicions.

Astarion’s face is creased with some mixture of relief and apprehension as he rubs your back and murmurs, “Come, darling, let’s get you back to the bedroom and–”

But he startles because you’re screaming as another contraction rips through you, practically compelling you to push. And you’re certain there’s no time to move. You’re adamant that you have to push right now, that you want to deliver right here in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t moving. You can’t move. You need to push. Now.

Now. Now. Now. Now. 

Halsin is quickly behind you as you instantly move to a half squat. His arms thread underneath your armpits, supporting you as you bear down. Shadowheart is hastily searching through drawers, looking for linens and other materials to spread beneath you in an attempt to contain the growing mess of liquid as you wail and continue to push as if life depends on it. 

In some ways, it does.

Nothing has ever prepared you for this feeling. No book, not even the several you read on the subject, could ever adequately describe it. 

“I don’t— what do I do?! What should I do?!” Astarion is barely containing his own panic, frozen in place and flitting his gaze between Halsin and Shadowheart as the two work around you with the easy expertise of two healers that have performed this task more than once.

“Get ready to catch the baby, you git!” Shadowheart hisses as she shoves Astarion down into the nest of linens she’s spread around the floor.

“Catch the– WHAT–” Astarion shouts, but then the cleric is grabbing his head, forcing him to look upwards, and he’s peering under your nightdress with wild eyes. The baby is crowning. All Astarion sees is a shock of silvery-white curls.

“Oh! Oh gods! Tav, I see Gale’s head!” He exclaims, somehow both panicked and excited as he awkwardly positions his shaking arms in the way Shadowheart directs.

The cleric has dropped down to her knees beside your husband, and the two of them are watching as you continue to push with renewed vigor, encouraged by your husband’s exclamations. 

There is a long moment where you feel sure you’re ripping in two, and you almost give up, but then a sudden feeling of relief washes over your body. The kitchen is filled with the wails of a new infant.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Astarion, his curls wild, his face wide eyed and shocked, and his arms covered in various fluids and vernix. And then you see your little wriggling baby, covered in that same fluid, wailing at the top of their lungs. Their little shrieks sound like music to your ears.

Halsin is gently lowering you to the ground and into the nest of linens as you slowly come out of the fog of pain and overwhelm. Astarion is both crying and beaming as he places the infant in your arms before pressing a loving kiss to your temple. He’s trembling with the inexplicable wave of emotions flowing through his system as he whispers to you, “My love, look, just look at our beautiful baby boy. You did so well, darling.”

You are crying and speechless as you stare down at your newborn. You didn’t think you could love anything in the world more than you loved your husband. But now you know you were wrong.

Later, after all three of you have been cleaned up and relocated to your bedchambers, you feel Astarion’s body shaking from where he sits behind you as Gale attempts his first feed. You are sitting between your husband's legs, your back leaning against his chest. A sideways glance reveals he is laughing.

“What is so funny, Astarion?” You ask quietly, still aglow and in a haze from the hormones pumping their way through your system.

“It’s just… our child, named after Gale, the man that was once our camp cook and would never shut up about food, would decide it best to be born in the kitchen.” Astarion responds with another chuckle as he brings his hand to stroke the cheek of the little baby in your arms.

Astarion studies the newborn’s two pointed ears, ten fingers, ten toes, and the little curls on the baby’s head as he speaks, “And our Gale absolutely drenched me in blood and guts in our kitchen – something I’d never been willing to do in the camp kitchen for his namesake.”

You chuckle softly as your little one utters a soft coo of assent in your arms, slowly drifting to sleep as he suckles. 

“I’m sure that will be one of many firsts, my love.” You say through a yawn, caught between the warmth of your newborn and your husband. The comforting sensation is lulling you to sleep; it is truly a wonder you’ve managed to stay awake this long. Gale is still nursing intently in his slumber, searching for the nutrients only you can provide.

The silver-haired elf emits a happy hum as he wraps his arms underneath yours, content to hold his two little loves and watch over them as they both rest. He will sleep later, he thinks. But for now, reality is better than any dream his mind can conjure.

As the first rays of morning light peek through the bedroom window, Astarion realizes his newborn son’s name is more than fitting, because it perfectly describes his feelings in this moment.

Joy. Absolute joy.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

There's a snake in my pants - K.MG

🤠Who; Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x gender-neutral reader 🤠What; Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu] 🤠Word count; 2.3k 🤠Warnings; Profanity. Critter mentions (literally the word critter plus snake but uhhh not the animal). Misuse of a lasso, bad Mingyu, but it's funny dw. And no one gets hurt. Mentions of pervert/voyeur Wonwoo but it's not plot relevant. Very suggestive in general but no smut or actual sexual actions. Reader wears lingerie.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; Your boyfriend wants to try a new sexy roleplay idea, it doesn't go well.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- This goes out to @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I hope you enjoy reading this as if you don't already know exactly what's going to happen anyway from my screaming about the himbo cowboy collective (omg series idea???) Thank you for encouraging me to live my best crack life, sweetheart 💖 And big thank you to @wonuvs for helping me so much with the header, I know it must've been hard to look at shirtless Mingyu so much 💖

Approximately twenty minutes ago, your lovable idiot of a boyfriend told you to go and wait on your bed for him, gave you a wink then skipped off with an excited giggle. Which, cute, yes, but also very very worrying.

As much as you adore Mingyu, you are very aware that he has some rather questionable ideas in general, what with him being what you would call a Class A Himbo; and unfortunately, he has brought those questionable ideas into the bedroom on more than one occasion. There is now a strict rule about no balloons in the bedroom and likely not for the reason you think.

So although you do go to your shared room and get dressed down in a lingerie set you know that he likes, you truly can't say that you exactly have high hopes for whatever your boyfriend has planned.

When the door creaks open, you're confused because all you see is Mingyu's hand appearing from one side to nudge the door open as wide as it can go. It takes a few pushes of his fingers before the door does actually swing open and then his arm darts back. A second later, Mingyu gallops into view and you don't know if you want to laugh or mentally log out more.

Because gallop isn't even an inaccurate description of the way he enters. Like a child pretending to play cowboys with one of those long wooden poles with the plush horse's heads set on one end with attached reigns. You can't tell if the fact he has one of those children's toy horses makes it worse or not. You can't even admire the way his thick thighs, showcased by just the tiny pair of boxer briefs he's wearing, are pressed tight around either side of the thick wooden pole to keep it upright with both of his hands barely fitting on the tiny little loop of faux-leather that makes up the reigns.

All Mingyu is wearing are those tiny little dark boxers that don't even fully cover his asscheeks, a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. Oh, and there's some thin dark rope looped diagonally over his bare chest. That can't be good.

"Howdy partner." Mingyu starts, entirely serious in his roleplay and doing his best to put on the 'cowboy voice' you know that he and his friends have been practising together to be 'real cowboys'.

Even though you're still trying to figure out exactly how you feel about this particular roleplay choice of your boyfriend, you can't help but at least humour him. He's far too cute and sweet in general to not try, at the very least, to play along. "Howdy, cowboy," You reply, a little dumbstruck yet Mingyu lights up brightly all the same.

He wiggles slightly in excitement, forgetting himself a little in his joy, then remembers he's supposed to be a 'sexy, serious cowboy-man' and schools his expression. He doesn't even notice the amused twitch of your lips at his slip. "I'm new to town and I hear you're the person to come to when there's trouble."

"Oh, there's trouble, is there?" You hum and shuffle to sit up against the headboard. You're internally very relieved when he removes the horse and props it against the wall. It's much easier to take him seriously when he's standing there in all his ridiculously handsome glory.

"Yes, ma'am." Oh, you could get used to him saying those words in that voice, pitched slightly lower than normal and a little rough. Maybe their 'cowboy meetings' have been more successful than you've realised. Because Mingyu, nor his friends, have improved very much in the actual horse riding aspect of being a modern-day cowboy. But at least the voice is getting good.

"Sounds serious."

"It is." He steps a little closer, hands on his hips and you can't tell if it's intentional or not but it draws your eyes to his crotch in those tiny boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. Not that you need to imagine what he's packing underneath when he's always so willing to let you see, and feel, and taste. "Do you think you can help a cowboy out, ma'am?"

"Keep calling me ma'am and it sounds pretty likely." You mutter and lift your gaze back up to his face. He's smirking at you now, well aware of how much you love his body. "Tell me, what's the issue, cowboy?"

"Well, you see, it involves a certain critter," You try not to giggle at him using the term critter, you can't help it when all you can think of is the endearing way he and his friends will call any living animal or insect critter; often in a loud screech when a bug flies too close to them.

"Ooh, I see. You have a critter problem."

"That I do, ma'am."

"And a big strong cowboy like you can't handle a single critter?"

"I'm more skilled with the bigger critters."

"So this critter is small?" You wonder how many times the two of you will use the term critter, it really does not help set the mood, just amuses you honestly. This situation has already devolved in your mind and Mingyu hasn't even noticed, he's still very serious about his big-boy cowboy role-play.

"Yes," His face drops. "Wait, no! It's not." He pouts a little, barely a little protrusion of his bottom lip.

"So it's not big enough for you to handle yourself, but it's not small?" He nods and slips back into character. "How big is it exactly?"

"Big enough." You think you understand what he's trying to do here. But you're willing to let it play out at least.

"Okay, give it to me."

"Give it to you?" His eyes round out a little with the excitement those words bring him.

"I mean, tell me what it is." You correct and try not to giggle at the disappointed little oh he lets out, understanding the miscommunication there.

Though, once again, he gets right back into character and locks his serious, sultry gaze on you as the tips of his thumbs hook into the waistband of his boxers without removing his hands from his hips. "There's a snake in my pants." Yup, that's about exactly where you thought he was going with this.

"I can't believe you've defiled my childhood like that, Mingyu." You deadpan, unimpressed. His arms drop along with his expression.

"What? What did I do wrong? It's just a line!" He whines. "Wonwoo taught it to me!"

"Wonwoo?" You sigh. "Baby, what have I told you about listening to Wonwoo where sex is involved?"

"That he's wrong that sitting in the tree outside our window with binoculars isn't a natural biology lesson no matter if he takes notes." He replies in very much the tone of a man who has had those very words drilled into him many times.

"I…well yes, that is a very good one, thank you for remembering." Mingyu perks up a little at your approving response. "But that's not what I meant."

"Uhm," He thinks hard. "That he's wrong that you have to bark during doggy style." That particular memory sends shivers down your spine, you had hoped to forget it.

"Also very correct and please don't bring that up again."

"I'm sorry, I really thought he knew what he was talking about!" Mingyu defends quickly. "He's so smart, baby!"

"Uh," You don't know how to respond. Wonwoo is not smart, he may look scholarly with his glasses and cardigans when he's lounging around, but he is, like your boyfriend, just another pretty himbo. All four of the group are and you still can't tell who's the worst of them. Still, you adore the four and would never change a thing about any of them, even if their dumbassery has caused a lot of trouble since they moved to town. So you move on. "The point is, Gyu, you shouldn't listen to Wonwoo's sex advice, ever. Remember that?"

"Oh, right, yeah, you've said that before." He nods slowly in understanding, looking kind of dejectedly down at the bedframe. He looks like a scolded puppy, it pulls your heartstrings enough to want to try and salvage the situation.

"Was this whole roleplay Wonwoo's idea?" You wonder. Mingyu looks up at you and shakes his head, lips pouted cutely at you and eyes big. "Yours?"

"Yeah. And Seungcheol's. You've never told me not to take sex advice from him!"

Okay, you have to admit, Seungcheol is probably the only one from Mingyu's three besties that you think would give pretty decent sex advice, you know he at least has active ongoing experience with a friend of your own and they've always sung his praises. Wonwoo is…well nobody knows for sure if Wonwoo has ever actually had sex. He kind of gives off horny virgin energy, honestly whenever sexual conversations come up but he's always been pretty smooth when flirting so it could go either way. And the fourth of their group is precious, naive Seokmin; you know he has experience himself but he's a very sweet guy and always seems scandalised when anything out of vanilla is mentioned.

"Okay, then I'm willing to pick this back up if you really want to try it, sweetheart."

"I do!" Mingyu beams and suddenly looks as if you've offered him the world on a silver platter, drizzled in sweet syrup ready for him to slurp up. Oh, does that remind you of another one of his slightly less questionable bedroom surprises. But that's an entirely different story. "Okay, okay," Mingyu takes a few breaths to calm his visible joy, it's so cute watching him bring his hands up as he inhales deeply then turn and push them palms downwards to the floor as he exhales.

He may have some very odd ideas, but man, did you score an adorable sweetheart of a boyfriend who you hope will never change and always remain this way. You've not even been together that long, just a handful of months really, but you're pretty sure he's it for you. Your forever. The one you want to spend the rest of your life with.

When he's collected himself, he turns back to you and decides to entirely bypass the whole snake in his pants section, wisely so you think, and starts to remove the ropes from around his torso. He only knocks his hat off twice, though you barely notice because now all you can think about is the fact that it seems like you won't be the one to have to bring up bondage.

While you're wondering if your big beefy boyfriend is about to hogtie you and have his way with you, Mingyu gathers the long rope in his right hand and then takes one end into his left. It's then that you notice the very distinct large loop in one end.

Horror spreads through your body as you realise that Kim Mingyu has brought a fucking lasso into the bedroom. "Gyu-" You start in warning yet he's already pulling his arm back and launching the rope in your general direction. You yelp automatically, expecting to get hit in the face, yet it doesn't touch you. There's a loud crash on your right so you look over only to find that the only remaining one of the pair of bedside lamps is now in pieces on the hardwood flooring, the loop of Mingyu's lasso caught around the shade. It's like the balloon incident all over again. And now you have no bedside lamps, thanks to Kim Mingyu.

There's pure silence for a tense few seconds as you both stare dumbly at the mess on the floor.

Mingyu's whisper breaks the silence "Fuck." And then you burst into howling laughter. "Babe!" He whines but you can't stop, toppling over onto your side on the bed with the power of your laughs.

The whole situation has been a mess from start to finish. It's a miracle you lasted this long without some kind of breakdown. You're just glad it's the laughing kind and not the mental kind.

It takes a minute of poutily grumbling about working him hard on the scenario, learning how to tie a lasso knot and modelling endless hats and boots for his friends so they can help him pick the right ones before the humour of it all actually hits Mingyu.

It starts with a little giggle and then he looks between you and the broken lamp a few times and has to flop across the bed as he laughs along with you, uncaring that his hat falls off.

Slowly, both of you stop laughing and calm enough to look at each other. You're still grinning like fools and there are tear tracks down your cheeks from it, but you're happy. He's happy. That's all that matters.

Mingyu shuffles over to you in a manner that makes giggles bubble out of your throat until he's on his side close enough to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you," He informs gently when he pulls back to look adoringly into your eyes. Your expression softens and quickly melts into the mirror of his own as you brush your fingertips over his cheek.

"I love you too." You reply, smiling as he lays his hand over the back of yours to hold it in place as he turns his head to kiss your palm, planting his love right there where you can keep it safe for as long as you want to. And then he looks back at you and holds your palm to his cheek. "Just no more lassos in the bedroom,"

Mingyu laughs and nods in agreement. "No more lassos in the bedroom."

"House in general. Indoors. No lassos indoors."

"Okay, baby," He giggles and kisses you once more sweetly before getting up and picking his hat up off the mattress to plop on your head when you sit up. You adjust it so that you can watch as he crouches down beside the broken lamp to begin cleaning up the mess you made. And as you watch him, there's only one thought on your mind.

Yeah, he really is it for you.

A/N- Believe it or not, the original idea that caused this one has a much higher crack content and I may have to write that too. This story can be considered a spin-off of that, or one in the collection of the same universe focused on the 4 himbos and their adventures.

[sits-bound]

Bound: Cut From the Sky by @mallstars

As a sewist, I was eager to bind this fic. I had so many ideas, and the imagery of flowing fabric was always in my head, but I wasn’t sure how to make it work. In the end, I found a graphic of fabric on freepik.com then recolored it. I love how it came out, even if it does look like water, but you know, water is a pretty big theme of the fic, so I'm not mad about it.

I also am in love with the font on the cover. (AdornS Garland Regular)

For the art within the bind, I was so lucky to be able to use the artwork of so many talented artists. The inside cover art is from @appleslightning (remember I used her art for my personal bind of Away Childish Things), and the art within the bind is from @ree-dee-art, @amomorii, and @itsphantasmagoria. Thank you all so much for allowing me to use it!

The chapter heading fonts I used was Tomarik Display, except for the Interlude chapters, which I wanted to set apart from the rest a bit, so I changed the font and foiled the chapter headers. (Madelinette and Adorn Banners)

It didn't all go smoothly, though. Of course my fuckup came at the very very very end. I was putting the title on the spine, and, well, I put it on upside down.

I debated for a while what to do. Leave it? Put the title in the correct position as well and pretend I did it on purpose? Attempt to remove it, but risk ruining the whole cover?

I almost stuck with the "totes did this on purpose" solution.

Naturally, I chose the last option. And THANK GOD it worked okay. Someone told me to use heat + a glue eraser, and that did the trick! It did leave a tiny mark, and it erased a little of the fabric graphic, but I printed out a new one and patched it, and I don't think you can tell! (Don't look.)

Whew!

This was such a fun project, and I absolutely love how it turned out.

[navybrat817]

Sign the Dotted Line

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You discuss the terms with Estelle and wait the week before seeing Andy again. Word Count: Over 3.5k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had a hard time relaxing after your meeting with Andy. You couldn’t put your finger on why you were wound up. The discussion went well, even better than you expected. Andy wasn’t pushy considering the power he wielded, but also wasn’t a pushover when you questioned him or offered alternatives. He conducted himself the way you needed him to, both professionally and personally. If he hadn’t, you’d have a much harder time going along with his contact.

So why am I so restless?

Estelle, once again reminding you why she was one of the best friends a girl could have, stopped by your place with wine and pizza. “You were not about to tell me over the phone what happened. Once I get this passed out, dish.”

Your friend was unusually quiet as you gave her the rundown of the meeting and terms you agreed to. It meant a lot that she listened, but you expected her to chime in once or twice with her opinion as she refilled your glasses of wine. Was she thinking carefully about what to say or did she not have anything to add?

“I have three questions for you,” she said, drumming her manicured nails along her glass. “First, why didn’t you accept his higher offer for more money each month?”

There it is.

“Because it was an excessive amount of money considering he’s going to pay my bills and rent, along with getting me a new wardrobe AND a personal driver. Unless I’m going out with you or our friends, it doesn’t sound like I’m going to pay for anything.”

Saying it out loud made you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Everything you had was because you worked for it. Soon, you wouldn't even work at the diner. To think the next nine months you wouldn’t work? It didn't sound real.

It didn't sound like you.

“All I'm saying is you could’ve used that extra money for savings,” she pointed out with a raise of her glass. “Or to stock up on wine.”

You snorted a bit, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m still going to put money aside for savings, but the amount he’s going to spend taking care of me? It’s a lot.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’s much to him if he agreed so easily.”

“It’s a lot to me,” you said under your breath.

And I’m not about to take advantage of him.

Andy was going to take care of you like he promised. You had no doubt about that. The world he lived in, maybe it wouldn’t make much of a difference in his bank account to take on your debt for the next nine months. You weren’t going to push for more money when he was giving you the world and then some.

Estelle smiled into her glass. “I haven’t met the guy yet, but I think he likes you because you’re a good person. I mean, he wants you to have dinners with him so he can talk to you and to get to know you even more,” she said, leaning forward when you tried to look away. “Which brings me to my second question. How do you feel about the ‘no sex’ in the contract?”

Your stomach sank a bit, making you wonder if that was why you felt restless when you should’ve been happy. “Is it bad if I say it hurts my ego a little?”

It was irrational to have a bit of a bruised ego. Andy gave you an explanation as to why he didn’t add that clause and it made perfect sense. The fantasy that he wanted you still played out in your mind though. But what would wanting him lead you to? What did you have to offer him besides companionship?

“A little? Mine would’ve hurt a lot,” she joked, causing your face to fall more as your thoughts crushed you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. Just because he doesn't have it in the contract doesn't mean he isn't attracted to you. Didn’t you say he complimented the dress, which we knew you looked hot in? And your smile?”

"He did,” you answered, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the wine. “But Andy is like a full course meal. What the hell am I?"

Estelle wadded up her napkin and threw it at your head, which you dodged. "So are you. If you don't believe me, at least consider yourself to be dessert or a fine wine," she said. You wouldn’t, but you weren’t about to tell her that. "And you know what? I respect the man a hell of a lot more for not adding anything sexual to the contract.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You said if something happened, he wanted it to be natural or organic. He doesn’t want to take advantage of you. He wants to seduce you the old fashioned way. And I say let him. You can start by taking some of that money he gave you and buy some fancy lingerie.”

You finished your glasses, wondering what Andy liked. Did he like something simple and classic? What colors would get his attention? "I was going to pay you back for the dress and the shoes," you told her.

With a wrinkle of her nose, she snatched the bottle from the table "Those were a gift and I won't accept any money back," she said, pouring the rest of the wine into her glass. You figured that was what she'd say. "And because you offended me, no more wine for you."

"You’re the one who brought that bottle, so your rules," you reminded her as she shot you a look. "Okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have offered to pay you back for my present."

Estelle nodded after a moment. "Good. That's good practice for when Andy buys you something just because and you try to pay him back."

You refrained from rolling your eyes, but she had a point. You would probably try to pack him back whether he wanted it or not. "Is it really paying him back if it's with his own money?"

She pretended to think it over before laughing. "Probably not," she said as you stood up to take your glass to the sink. "Hey, I didn't ask my third question."

"Fire when ready."

"Do you really want to give it a week when you have your mind made up?"

Estelle knew you all too well. Even if you hadn't told her from the start that you planned to sign the contract, she would've figured it out. "The time frame was his call."

While it did give you time to think it through, surely he had to get things in order, too. Like your new place. God, you couldn't believe you were going to move into his building.

"You could ask him to move up the date? Worst thing he could say is 'no'."

Maybe.

"Yeah," you said, going to sit back down with a huff. "Are you sure you don't mind being in the know of this? And having to keep it under wraps?"

"Are you kidding? It's an honor you asked me," she said, holding her head high with such confidence you had to smile. "I got your back."

"Thanks, Estelle," you said.

She waved her hand dismissively, but had a smile on her face. "Don't mention it."

"Okay. Now enough about me," you smiled. "Tell me about your day."

"Well," she smirked, tilting her head as she paused dramatically. "I may have found a guy for Wendy."

Your eyes lit up, happy you asked. Wendy was another friend of yours who hadn’t dated in awhile. "Tell me everything."

You managed to keep your focus on Estelle as she told you about the gorgeous guy she met in a coffee shop who was just Wendy’s type. You wondered how different things would've been had you and Andy met that way. Would it change your story? Would you be where you were now?

Staring at your phone when Estelle went to use the bathroom, you debated whether or not to text Andy. You just saw him earlier today and he had a business dinner. How desperate would you look asking him to move the contract date up?

"Fuck it," you muttered, snatching the device and quickly typing out a message. Communication was key. Like honesty.

"I don't want to wait a week, but I understand if we have to. I hope your dinner went well."

“BOO!” You nearly dropped your phone when Estelle smacked the couch behind you. "You messaged him, didn't you?"

"Yeah," you giggled, holding your chest to calm your pounding heart. "Told him I didn't want to wait a week, but understood if we had to."

"Hopefully he listens. Well, he will if he wants to get in your pants."

"Stop," you giggled as your phone went off, holding your breath as you read the message.

"I'd rather have dinner with you. And I understand you don’t want to wait, but what was it you said about anticipation?"

Using anticipation against me.

"Fine, Daddy."

The three dots popped up immediately as he typed. "You're teasing me, honey."

"Maybe. I'll see you in a week."

“Looking forward to it, but one more thing I forgot to mention. I’d like a witness for the contract signing.”

"Are you two sexting?" Estelle asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

"No," you smiled.

Just called him 'Daddy'.

"But he's sticking it out for the week," you said, only a little disappointed. He did have to draw up a contract. “And we need a witness for the signing. I’d like it to be you.”

"Ooh. He's making you wait for it," she said, giving you a small smile. "Give me the time and date and I’ll be there."

“Thanks,” you smiled, sending Andy back a message. “Estelle volunteered.”

“Perfect.”

“One more week and he’s yours,” Estelle smiled.

"One more week."

It really was the longest week of your life to wait to see Andy again, but today was the day.

Your heart beat fast as you and Estelle went into the building and went through the motions with the security guard. You half expected Irene to tell you Andy didn’t have an appointment with you as you made your way to the office. It was silly to think he’d back out, but your nerves were getting the better of you. And why?

Because you hadn’t heard from Andy. Not once. You kept looking at the door expectantly during your shifts at the diner, only to be met with disappointment when he didn’t show. You also didn’t want to admit how many times you checked your phone to see if he reached out. The man had more important things to do than visit or text you.

“Cheer up,” Estelle told you in the elevator. You felt bad. You were sulking and you didn’t try to hide it. Part of that scared you because why did it matter that he had gone radio silent?

“You don’t think he changed his mind, do you?”

“No. He’s just a busy man. Get out of your head.”

“I’m trying,” you sighed.

You led Estelle to the office, expecting to see Irene. All you saw was an empty desk. The light above her chair was off, too. The double doors were shut. Maybe it was a sign. This was too good to be true.

Andy was too good to be true.

“There you are,” you heard as the double doors opened.

“Holy shit,” Estelle breathed, almost making you elbow her.

“Andy,” you said, not quite smiling when you caught sight of him. He didn’t have a blazer on and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. “I was just-”

“Irene wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home for the day. Come on in.”

“Can you give us a minute?” You asked your friend, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“Yeah. I’ll be here,” she said, taking a seat. Once Andy's back was turned, she mouthed, "Hot!"

Yeah, he is.

You clutched your bag a little tighter as you walked in, reminding yourself to breathe as Andy shut the door. “We’re still doing this?” You asked, your voice shaky.

“Of course, we are,” he said, pulling out the chair that you sat in a week before. “Why? Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. Truthfully, I thought you changed your mind.”

Andy paused before he took his seat. “I have no reason to back out. I offered and want this. I said I’d take care of you and I’m a man of my word. I’m happy to prove that to you if you don’t believe me,” he said, carefully looking you over as blood rushed to your cheeks. “What made you think I’d change my mind?”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It isn’t silly to me,” he said, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “You’re stiff, honey, and you’re barely looking me in the eye. What’s going on? What do I need to do to put you at ease?”

You swallowed a little. “It was a long week to think it over and I hadn’t heard from you. Because of that, I wasn’t sure if you maybe decided to change your mind,” you explained, lifting your eyes to meet his. You were met with concern and care. “Silly, right?”

“No, it isn’t,” he assured you, sliding a small packet across the table to give you a chance to look at the top page. It was the contact. He really put it together. “May I explain?”

“Of course,” you whispered.

He surprised you by moving his chair around the table so he was beside you instead of across from you. “First, I’m sorry my silence caused any doubt. That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to give you time to think things through,” he said, his tone gentle as he tapped the contract with his finger. “Would I have this here if I wanted to change my mind?”

“No, I don’t think,” you said, feeling a bit small.

“Second,” he said, a small smile on his face as he took out his phone. “I was the last one to message you. Maybe I didn’t want to bombard you between work.”

You stared at his phone and realized he was right. The last thing he sent was “Perfect.” regarding Estelle was your witness. You never said anything else. God, you were an idiot.

“So you were waiting to hear back from me?” You tried to tease as his smile widened. It was a handsome look. “Okay. So. I may have let my nerves get the better of me. I’m sorry. I just really want this to work.”

It took a lot for you to say that, but there was no judgment from him as he placed his hand over yours.

“So do I, honey,” he said in a low voice. “For the record, you can message me whenever you want. It won’t bother me.”

“Ditto,” you said before you cringed.

Ditto? Really? So eloquent.

He chuckled as he handed you a pen, leaning in a bit closer and giving you a chance to catch that cologne of his you loved. You’d never be able to smell it again without thinking of him. “As long as you’re okay and ready, would you like to start?”

“Yes, I would,” you smiled, sparing him another glance. “Thank you, Andy.”

He didn’t have to put you at ease. He could’ve easily laughed you off as sounding clingy or desperate, but he soothed your nerves. You shouldn’t have expected anything less from an ex-lawyer and, what you believed to be, a good man.

“Of course,” he said, going to the door to get Estelle. “Come in. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” she said, smiling as she shook Andy’s hand. “Heard a lot about you.”

A pange of jealousy settled in your chest when Andy chuckled, making you look away. Estelle was the kind of woman Andy should be with. She belonged in his world. But she wouldn’t do anything. She was a good friend and knew you were at the very least attached to Andy.

I need to get a grip.

You had no idea why the voice in your head was being so cruel to you. First the assumption about Andy backing out and now this. It needed to stop.

“I appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule to be here. I realize there are some stigmas when it comes to contracts, so I want you to know I have her best interest at heart.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Estelle asked, winking at you as she sat down and squashing those nerves once more.

“I also have an NDA for you to sign,” Andy added as he took a seat again beside you and leveled your friend with a look. “I don’t really care what people say about me if word gets out. It won't make a difference. I won’t, however, have them slander her. So I’m trusting you to protect her.”

Estelle’s eyebrows shot up as did yours. Andy’s reputation meant a lot more than yours, yet it was you he was worried about. “You are so authoritative and bossy. No wonder you're in charge,” she said, grabbing a pen for herself. "I'll sign whatever you put in front of me."

“Okay then,” Andy smiled, tilting the paper so both of you could look together. “Let’s get started.”

Andy carefully read over each section, giving both you and Estelle a chance to object or stop him. Everything discussed was accounted for. The length of the contract, job, living arrangements, expenses, travel, he had it all. No red flags jumped out. Nothing of concern. You saw no reason to object when he stated everything as agreed.

“Any questions?” He asked, like he had after every portion.

“Back to the living arrangements,” Estelle said, pointing her pen at him. “I want to be there when she moves in.”

“You do?” You questioned with a look. “You hate moving.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on doing any of the heavy lifting,” she teased. She usually paid people for that. “But I insist on seeing your building and where she’s going to live. I may ask to see your place, too.”

His place? Why?

Andy appeared surprised by the request as well. “My place? Is that necessary?”

“If you plan on having her there, yes. I want to make sure it’s safe. I get that she’s your sugar baby once she signs the dotted line, but she’s my best friend. She was before she met you and she will be once this contract ends. You want to protect her? So do I.”

Andy hummed thoughtfully. “What do you think?” he asked you.

You would feel more comfortable with someone you trusted there. Not that you didn't trust Andy, but the situation wasn't normal and you understood Estelle’s insistence. Still, seeing his place? Was she being a bit nosy? Was she curious about the man?

She's looking out for me.

“I think that’s fine, all things considered,” you replied.

“Okay. You’ll be there when she moves in and you’re welcome to see my place,” Andy agreed.

“With me there,” you added. She had no reason to see Andy’s place all by herself.

“Duh,” Estelle smiled with a wave of her hand. “Proceed.”

Minutes later, Andy finished and signed the document when you didn't raise any concerns. He slid the last page in your direction and your hand trembled a bit as you went to sign. You caught a look of worry on Estelle’s face when you hesitated. You were so close.

“Honey?” Andy asked so softly you almost missed it.

“I said I’d take care of you and I’m a man of my word.”

With an exhale, you signed your name. This was it. For the next nine months, you’d belong to Andy. Well, in some ways.

Andy’s smile warmed your heart as he passed the sheet to Estelle. Her smile was bright enough to light up the room as she signed. She was thrilled for you.

And you allowed yourself to feel happy, too.

“You’re officially a sugar baby!” Estelle said, quickly signing the NDA as you and Andy exchanged a look. You wished you knew what he was thinking. “We need to celebrate.”

Andy cleared his throat. “Actually, I was kind of hoping I could steal her away for a bit after I make her a copy of this.”

“You were?” You and Estelle asked in unison.

“Yeah,” he smiled as he got to his feet. He practically towered over you where you sat. “I want to take you to the diner myself so you can turn in your notice. What do you say?”

You smiled as Estelle clapped her hands together. “Let’s go.”

After that, you could celebrate the next chapter in your life.

It's official! Here we go! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[notsoattractivearenti]

I'm All Yours (Mason Mount x Fem!Reader) 🔞

WC: 1.2K

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (m receiving), curse and vulgar words. MINORS DNI

A/N: i think we all know why i wrote this one 🫣🤭 this was meant to be a fluff but somehow i started to write smutty lines and there was no turning back lmao blame mason. yes this is short, not proofread and i'm not good at writing smut btw so apologies in advance if this isn't decent 🫣 tho i hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 🫶🏻 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

–

After 5 weeks out because of the injury he picked up at the Spurs game in August, Mason was finally back on the field for a game against Crystal Palace for the EFL Cup. Throughout the recovery process, he was very determined to heal and get better than before because he didn’t like being away from the pitch for so long. All he wants is to give the new club and the fans the best performance – and getting injured was really upsetting for him, but he didn’t want to let it mess with his head. During his comeback game, he played really well during the first half before getting subbed off – he even did an assist from a corner kick which was perfectly finished by Casemiro with a header goal. Watching how he had gained his confidence back after injury and got to prove that he is a deserving addition to the team – unlike what some people said – made you feel even prouder than you’ve ever been of him.

When he went home after the game, he couldn’t stop telling you how good it felt to go back and win. He was also very happy he was able to make an assist, though he is now aiming for at least one goal for the next game.

“You know, Mase, the fans were very happy with how you played,” you told him with pride, “I’m delighted that you’re back, you were amazing.”

“Thank you, my love, I’ll keep trying to deliver. I’m going to give the best I can. For the fans, and most importantly you.” He smiled.

–

Little did the fans know, he had an advertisement video with Nike Underwear – which had been prepared from a while ago – and now ready to be posted. After the incredible game he just had the day before, uploading the video felt like perfectly timed to treat his fans. 

You weren’t present on the set when Mason and the Nike team shot the video, but you saw the pictures he had on his phone – for your benefit, he said teasingly. Since the first time he showed you those pictures, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his phone. You slowly and carefully checked them out one by one, zoomed them in and out because you didn’t want to miss every little detail. 

“Fuck…” you panted.

“Mason… These are… Insanely hot.”

He was sitting next to you and noticed how your pupils were dilated, your breathing became heavy, and how you kept biting your lip – you were basically drooling over his pictures and he was really satisfied by your reaction.

“Uh, baby, you good?” He asked as he grinned cheekily.

“What?” You glanced at him for a second. “Oh, I...”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence. Those pictures just made you speechless – that man drove you crazy. And before you know it, you were feeling all hot and heavy and your pussy was dripping wet.

“Baby, I’m gonna need a minute…” You whimpered. “Now all that I think about is how bad I want to suck your dick and have your cum in my mouth. Thanks a lot, fucker.”

“Well…” he kissed your neck, then whispered in your ear, “I would very much love that.”

You looked at him and tried to make sure he really wanted you to give him a head. He assured you by unbuttoning his pants and pulled them down.

“Whenever you’re ready, Y/N.” 

You kissed him on the lips and immediately kneeled between his legs and started by rubbing his massive bulge to build up the arousal. Mason still had his boxers on, and when you felt his bulge became harder, you gently pulled them down.

The second his boxers came off, his dick was already fully erect and you couldn’t wait to have it inside your mouth. You started by spat on his hard dick and stroked it up and down. As your hand moved all over his dick, he bit his lip and let out a few moans.

“Mmm… Fuck… That feels good…”

You kept stroking and gave his dick tight squeezes a few times too.

“Y/N… Stop teasing, please…” He growled.

“Tell me what you want now, baby.”

“I want my cock… Inside your fucking mouth…” He begged.

You began by licking his dick up and down for a short while, then swirling your tongue on the tip. His breath hitched – the way your tongue felt around the head made his heart pound and he was feeling all flushed. You dipped your tongue into his slit, and he clenched both his fists and thighs. 

“Ohhh… F-f-fuck…” He panted.

With your hand still stroking, you slowly put his dick deep into your mouth. You started moving up and down at a slow pace, and gradually changed your pace. As you engulfed his dick within your sloppy mouth, he gripped your hair and you were making eye contact with him which he loves so much – he always thinks the eye contact made the action a lot sexier and he isn’t wrong.

“Don’t stop, baby…” He bit back a moan.

The faster and deeper you went, the more intense the waves of pleasure he had. When you moaned, he could feel the vibration coming from your throat and it gave a sexy touch.

“Y/N…”  he murmured, “I’m fucking close…”

The moment you heard him you sucked faster than before and his body began to shiver. He squeezed his eyes shut, soaking the pleasure in.

“Yeah, cum in my mouth.”

“I’m about to cu- ohhh…”

Suddenly, time stopped ticking and his vision faded to black. An explosion of pure bliss just hit and left him breathless. At that moment, he filled your mouth with his cum for you to swallow.

He lied on the bed and was breathing heavily, unable to speak even a word.

“Good fuck, Y/N,” he exhaled, “that was amazing.”

You got up and smiled, now about to clean up. “Mmhmm.”

As you cleaned up, you playfully asked him, “Mase, have you eaten a lot of fruits lately?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I think I have. Tasted sweet, didn’t it?”

You licked your lips – which were still covered with his cum – and nodded in agreement. “Love it.”

–

When the advertisement video was ready, he showed it to you before it got uploaded.

“Woah, you’re going to post this with no warning?” You jokingly asked.

“Yeah, no… Why?” He was confused for a moment.

“Mase, you do know how people are going to react, right? You’re literally wearing nothing but underwear and they can see your bulge? They’re going to go crazy, my love.”

He finally understood why and chuckled.

“Oh baby… I surely don’t mind.” He winked.

“Ugh, please.” You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he stood in front of you and gently lifted up your chin, “you are the only one who gets to see and experience the whole show whenever you want to.”

He gave you little kisses starting from your forehead, nose, cheeks then a big one on your lips.

“Just so you know,” he added, “I’m all yours, Y/N.”

You blushed and laughed when you heard him say what he said. 

“Mmm… Lucky me.”

–

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[mapisgf]

The reason for her smile LW6 x reader

Alex Scott became a close friend of yours quickly, the both of you just clicked. you often partnered together since you were a world renowned photographer, photographing many celebrities. You had recently returned from living abroad in Italy. Upon arriving in London Alex offered you the opportunity to come take some photographs of a football star while she was being interviewed. This was also the perfect opportunity for you to catch up and work alongside each other. 

You made your way to the studio.

“I missed you so much.” Alex rushed into you hugging you tightly. “ I can't wait for you to meet Leah.”

“ Me too, I'm so happy we're working together again. Why didn't you tell me it was Leah Williamson? You know I'm a huge fan!”

You hear the door open and you're greeted by a blonde girl with a bright smile on her face. She wore brown trousers and a simple white crop top showing off her abs. In her hand three coffees. 

She sets the coffees down on a table and gives you a hug. 

“I'm Leah. It's nice to finally meet you y/n but i must say if anything i'm your biggest fan.”

“I don't believe you.” You say expecting her to not even know your name. Her blond hair was loose reaching her shoulders, a halo of blonde framing her face. She was even more gorgeous up close.

“She serious , Leah asked me if you would be available for today.” Alex took a sip from her coffee smirking at you. 

“Oh sorry i almost forgot i got you a coffee too.” her hands brushed against yours. It was from your favourite coffee shop and it was also your go to order.

“Oh my god this is my favourite coffee shop. How did you guess my order?” Leah just shrugs.

The photo shoot goes well. Leah changes outfits, styling herself looking impeccable due to her amazing sense of style. She often turns to smile at you, occasionally asking you questions it almost becomes a mix of her interviewing you. Suddenly Alex gets a phone call from her mom since it was just the three of you. You both tell her to go take the phone call . She steps outside the room leaving you to alone. 

“ Can I see some of the pictures you've taken?” Leah walks over to you and places a hand  on your back. You nod and show her some of the pictures so far.

“These look great , I really love your work, it just has so much warmth to it.”

“I think you and your smile put all the warmth in these pictures.” It was true her smile was like warm honey. She blushes and shakes her head in disagreement.

You walk over to your equipment on the table. Leah follows you and leans against the edge of the table. 

“What's your favourite club ?” You laugh and raise your head up to look at her. She wears a smirk on her face.

“Do i have to say arsenal.'' Leah playfully nudges you but shakes her head while biting her lip. 

“It's Barca . I loved watching them play while I lived in Spain i actually saw you play against them you broke some hearts after scoring that header.” 

She laughs and so do you. What you don't realise is Leah looking at you needing to make you laugh again. Leah doesn't want the day to end; she wants to keep talking to you. She wants to hear more about your time in France and Spain.

“You should come to an arsenal game sometime. Then you'd get to see how many hearts I can break.” She leans in closer brushing your hair out of your face. Your face gets hot, a blush creeping up on your skin. You hear Alex come back into the room you move away from Leah but not before whispering “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.” Leah turns to look at you but you're already behind your camera .

The sun starts to set as the three of you say goodbye you don't realise that Leah hugs you for a seconds longer than she does Alex. You both walk Alex to her car but you realise you forgot something in the studio. Alex offers to go with you even though she is already in her car but Leah insists that shell go instead. 

You enter the studio and quickly find your missing piece of equipment. You turn back to look at Leah when she starts to speak.

“ Y/n will you please come watch my game on Saturday. I'm asking nicely. “ She smiles at you. 

You walk over to her and focus all your attention on her face. “I've never been to watch a football match for a first date.” You pray that she's actually interested in you starting to overthink what you just said. 

“Well there's always a first time and I promise a proper first date on Sunday.” You feel giddy at the promise of Sunday.

“Who says I want to go on a first and second date?” You ask her sarcastically of course. Leah smirks .

“ I have a feeling.”

She walks you to your car and helps you pack everything. She even opens you door for you. 

You look at each other you're about to say bye when she kisses you so sweetly . You melt into her touch. She pulls away.

“Goodnight y/n”

When you reach home you get a text from a number.

Leah - Hey love , it's Leah, here's your ticket for Saturday (she sends a picture). Can't wait to see you. Xx

You - The feelings mutual. Can't wait to take more pictures of you.

[seelestia]

Dunno why I felt compelled to do this, but-

Here's some dialogue I just thought up regarding that angsty af Zhongli oneshot that a certain someone requested (who could it be I wonder 👀👀)

The ones talking are Ganyu and the Reader.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Your love."

"..."

"I regret not being born earlier."

"I regret not being a goddess."

"I regret not being the first."

"I regret not having the long straight hair he so misses."

"But most of all, I regret not being her."

"But you had no control over any of those! It's not your fault!"

"...That's exactly why it hurts."

We love angst 😩💅💅👍✨

- Ever so sadly yours, 👹✨ Jae (also hi Lia :D been a while since I been in your inbox huehue)

— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

a continuation to do you love me? choose a decision at the end! only 1/2 endings available as of now.

summary: a cracked heart is like a cracked jar; it can only hold so much within before it shatters — what if you've come to terms that you cannot take the pain of the truth any longer? (1.2k+ words)

genre: angst, "loves you but not most" trope, lovers to ???? (open-ended / cliffhanger i'm sorry.) + read the alt text on the header for extra summary!

characters: ganyu, zhongli, guizhong (implied).

cw: descriptions of crying, one pet name.

thoughts: you came into my inbox after a while and you brought pain with you. i'm not particularly proud of this but here you go, i cannot be blamed for these buckets of tears any longer. (/j)

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

The night was young in Liyue, the breeze was gentle as it swept across the lands — but oh, how you wished the wind could also blow the sadness in your heart.

Blurry sight, soaked cheeks, sheer and pure numbness. For how long had you been like this? Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Whatever perception of time you had left just seemed to crumble to dust.

You couldn't help but wonder why? Ha, what irony when you knew very well why.

Wasn't it the truth that was relayed to you some time ago? Wasn't that why you decided to sneak away whilst your lover was sleeping, why you were crying in the company of a concerned friend, why you were here right now?

"I'm so sorry—" you choked out an apology to Ganyu through bated breath.

Your friend was out for a midnight stroll when she saw you and upon seeing how red your eyes were, she didn't leave your side out of worry ever since. You tried to reassure her that you'd be fine alone, really — but she looked so devastated, equally as sorrowful as you were like the very sadness in your heart was her own.

But you felt pathetic; so pathetic and so pitiful.

Nothing had been the same after that day, as much as you wished to deny it. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all; in your case, curiosity was what condemned your soul to a void of nothingness.

They said love was what filled a human's soul and if that were true, then you would be nothing but a shell of a soul. Zhongli gave you a love that you wished to cradle with your all forever — but he was never yours, never completely yours. Yet, how could you blame him? How could you ever blame him for experiencing a love so great he wasn't able to forget it?

"I'm not her. I could never be her," you finally forced the words out, clutching onto the railing of Liyue Harbor until a stinging pain greeted your hands. It had been the simplest conclusion, yet the hardest pill to swallow. A fate you couldn't change even if you wished you could so bad, someone unrivaled you could only imagine holding a candle to. Bitter and self-deprecating were the quiet laughter you let out at the realization.

Never was, never will.

"[Y/N], you don't have to apologize," was all Ganyu could afford to utter. She knew she should've said more, but the words escaped her barren mind; perhaps, it would be better to listen instead of saying something that could make matters worse. You could tell that Ganyu was disappointed in herself for not being able to provide you with profound wisdom or the right words of comfort.

Truthfully, you couldn't help but feel terrible for putting her in this situation, for possibly ruining her night with your mood. But when the Adeptus placed her hand on the crook of your elbow as a physical reminder that she was here for you, you smiled. Then, you turned your head towards the ocean and closed your eyes.

Finally, the pain of crying finally caught up to you, hoping that the blowing night breeze could somewhat soothe the stinging dryness and heavy bags underneath your eyes. As you did so, in the corner of your mind, a single thought passed by and you caught it by its tail.

Was it a thought meant to be voiced or buried? Either way, you brought it to life and wondered out loud.

"...Would it be better if I broke things off instead?"

Your question seemed to take Ganyu by complete surprise.

You knew why so; before your relationship with Zhongli came to be, Ganyu was one of the listening ears to your constant rambles about him. How much you admired him, how flustered you were when he smiled at you, or how you felt like you could float to the skies whenever he spared you a single glance. You recalled the surprised look on Ganyu's face when you first told her about your feelings for her Lord, but she was supportive towards your endeavor.

Now, here was where both of you stood. Oh, how time flew.

"Do you remember when he accepted my confession?" Even with your eyes closed, you could almost feel Ganyu nodding at your words. You were the same, you felt as if you could recall it like it had only been yesterday too. "I was so happy I felt like I could float to the clouds and never return. The man of my dreams is finally mine! I thought," you laughed, but there was no hint of mirth evident in your tone.

"What was it like? Being loved by him?" That sort of question sounded foreign to Ganyu but still, she asked, a willingness on her part to indulge in your nostalgia.

"Warm like having someone wrap a blanket around you and comforting like feeling the steam from a cup with your favorite tea on your face after a long day," you hummed. If loving Zhongli and being loved by him were a feeling, it would've been one that you'd never let go of... but you knew this feeling was no longer the same after the truth.

"I am not his greatest love, yet he is mine," it was something you stated solemnly, having come to terms with that fact yet not being able to fully withstand the ache that came with it yet.

When you continued, your voice broke and you frowned, "Why does it have to hurt so much? I want to stay with him, I want to pretend I didn't hear anything that day, I want to go back to the time where I knew nothing about her — but I couldn't."

The corner of your eyes began to sting once more, welling up with tears at a possibility of euphoria which you could never go to. "If only I could, then I wouldn't spend all my nights awake, wondering why I wasn't her or thinking of ways I could somehow be better than her in his eyes. If I could, I'd be sleeping happily in his arms right now and... I wouldn't feel this pain anymore."

There was no stopping the waterfall running down your cheeks now and you could feel that stinging pain again as a result. "But that's a fantasy," you breathed out. You were just so tired and your knees were beginning to feel weak — but still, you looked at Ganyu through your blurred vision.

"...What should I do? Should I save myself or dwell in blissful ignorance?" You whispered with a smile that was unbefitting of your melancholic question. Ganyu hesitated but before she could formulate an answer, a familiar spoke from behind the two of you.

"...My love," a voice that was all too familiar and a nickname that caused all that was going on in your brain to halt.

You froze, veins running cold.

"R-Rex Lapis?"

Ganyu's shocked yelp confirmed it all.

There Zhongli was, standing there. A few strands of his hair looked amiss as if licked by the wind from a fast-paced trip, as if he had just gone places, as if he just went everywhere searching after waking up with you nowhere to be found in his arms. Maybe, that was exactly what he did.

His amber eyes were downcast and the way he was standing so fixedly instead of looking like he had just arrived instantly made your heart clench — because that could only mean one thing.

He heard everything.

.

.

.

[ WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DECISION? ]

↪ Stay quiet and dwell on your thoughts of breaking up with Zhongli.

↪ Wipe away your tears and put on a smile as if Zhongli didn't hear anything. — COMING SOON!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

© SEELESTIA, jan 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Idk if you're still taking requests, but I have one if you do have some time 🥺🥺

I went to see my family after a while, and it was awful. There was no kind words and I had successfully avoided them until they caught me as I was leaving. My only saving grace was my adorable 4 year old niece. On the flight back, it took everything in me to not bawl my eyes out and just pretend to be occupied. But when I came home I just cried myself to sleep. I really just wanted someone there to tell me that I'm worth it and not just a burden. It's tiring to pretend I'm okay and not lonely with no one in my corner.

If this isn't too heavy for you, totally understand if it is. Could you do Steve and Bucky just being there for the reader. Maybe they heard the end of the convo with her family and waited until they got home to comfort her.

Thank you, and please feel free to ignore if this is too much, I can understand ❤️❤️

Not A Burden » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier and Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader x Best Friend!Steve Rogers

Summary: Bucky and Steve comfort you after visiting your family.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, cuddling, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also I had my fair share of awfulness with my family over the years. Just know it gets better, but it takes time🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found these on Pinterest.

Bucky and Steve knew something was wrong when they heard the tone of your voice when you were talking to your family. They went with you to visit your family for the day. You thought it would be easier knowing that they’re with you. It was, but your family didn’t make it any easier. You tried your best to keep quiet and not start a fight, but your family constantly started fights and arguments when you didn’t want to do that. Bucky and Steve caught the end of the conversation with you and your family before leaving.

“I don’t know why I even came here if I’m just going to get blamed for something I didn’t even do!” You shouted.

They heard the crack in your voice. You stormed past Steve and Bucky, making your way to the car. They watched as you got in the car and slammed the car door. They took that as a sign that you wanted to go home. They said a quick goodbye to your family and left. You were really quiet on the car ride home. Normally you point out the scenery, but this time you didn’t. You just put your headphones in your ears and listened to music on your phone the whole ride home. Bucky and Steve occasionally glanced back at you to make sure you were ok. They knew you weren’t. They brainstormed ways of how to make you feel better when you guys got home.when you guys got home, you immediately went to your bedroom and slammed your bedroom door, making it echo throughout the apartment. They went to your room and knocked on your bedroom door.

“I’m fine!” You say through tears.

Steve and Bucky sighed before opening the door and walked in your room to see you crying in your pillow. Their hearts broke when they seen you like this. They sat down on either side of you and rubbed your back to calm you down. They decided to get you talking when your cries decreased a little bit.

“Do you want to tell us what you and your family were arguing about before we left?” Steve asks softly.

You sat up and faced them, your eyes red and puffy from crying and your cheeks wet with tears.

“It’s always the same argument with my family.” You start. “I’ve always been the family member they didn’t love cause my mom had me at a young age and my dad didn’t stick around to help raise me.” You tell them.

“That shouldn’t be your fault.” Bucky says.

“Try saying that to them.” You sighed. “Everything is my fault to them. They blame me for the stupidest things.” You say.

“Anything they said isn’t true.” Steve says.

“They don’t know how amazing you are.” Bucky says.

“They don’t think so.” You looked down and picked at your nails. “Apparently to them, I’m worthless and a burden.” You say, tears brimming in your eyes again.

You looked up when Steve and Bucky gently grabbed your hands. They watched as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Bucky reached his right hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it and wiped your tears away.

“Never say that about yourself, sweetheart.” Steve says softly.

“You’re definitely not a burden. You’re worth it in so many ways.” Bucky adds.

“Thanks, but you guys are only saying that because you’re my best friends.” You say and sniffled.

“We mean it, doll.” Bucky says.

They’re right and you know it. A smile slowly formed on your face. They always know what to say when you’re upset. You sat up on your knees and hugged them.

“You guys really know how to make a girl feel special.” You say.

“It’s our job to make you feel special.” Steve says.

You kissed their cheeks and sat back down. Then your phone dinged. You grabbed your phone from your nightstand, smiling when you seen a text from your 4 year old niece who most likely stole her mom’s phone to text you. Your smile got wider when you opened the text and seen a cute picture of her.

“Who is it?” Bucky asks.

“My niece stole my sister’s phone to send me a cute picture of herself.” You say, showing them the picture.

Bucky and Steve looked at the picture and smiled.

“It’s nice to know that your niece brings out your happiness.” Bucky says.

“So do you guys.” You smiled. “I love you guys so much.” You say.

“We love you too.” They say in unison and kissed your cheeks.

🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!!! =D

So. We Are ep 13. I don't how they do this, but they keep making every episode better than the last. At this rate, I'll not be able to survive episode 16.

Warning: long post 😊😅 (there will be a smol part 2 because 30 screenshots are definitely not enough.)

We have the Best Parents in BL, but now I present to you: The Best Aunt in BL.

Subtle, Aunt Pui, real subtle. 😭

I get her. She just wants a nice, handsome boyfriend for her nephew. 😌

First of all, the symbolism is hitting me right in the face, but it's also so subtle because no one else knows the whole story, so they wouldn't be able to figure it out.

Secondly. Yes, the red and blue do clash a bit, and it's not the prettiest little painting. But. Not every painting has to be "pretty" or perfect. Just like feelings or emotions in real life. Peem didn't willingly draw over his precious painting because he thought it'd look better; he did it because he wanted it to express his feelings. This also ties into Peem's insecurity at having (apparently) failed at being Phum's comfort zone because see, in the painting it looks like the sea is embracing the roses, or protecting them.

What I'm trying to say, is that what makes art beautiful is not just what you directly see on the canvas/right in front of you. And this applies even to the "pretty" ones. The David is not just famous because it looks very good, but also because of the amount of skill and talent Michelangelo had to be able to create such a thing from a block of marble. (I'm sorry I'm not good at examples or analogies 😭)

Sir. What business do you have, making an expression like that and giving me a heart attack.

If I haven't said this before: find a man who looks at you like Phum (Pond) looks at Peem (Phuwin).

Two sides of the same coin.

Phum still feels guilty (which is very clear from his reaction to what Peem says) about ruining Peem's painting, so he wants to do something to make sure nothing like that ever happens to Peem again.

Peem is long over it (you don't ever forget shit like that, but he has definitely forgiven Phum). He met Phum because of that Incident™, and he has a new, upgraded painting, so this is just a light joke for him. But the moment he sees it's too soon for Phum, he immediately goes to reassure him he's just kidding, and he absolutely does not hold it over Phum.

A simple pinky promise, but how much does it mean to Phum?

He's never had someone to make a pinky promise with; Fang was in a similar situation as him, and Beer knew better to make a promise and have it broken by forces outside his control.

So this, this small, childish gesture means quite a bit to him. (Which is also probably why having broken it hurt him so much.)

And yet Peem, you're smiling so wide while saying that. Almost like *le gasp* you actually like it!

Let's be real here, Peem. You don't mind at all. In fact, you sounded unbearably fond saying this. You were quite literally giggling and kicking your feet. (Which fits my headcanon of him pretty well actually.)

This shot. Just >>>> (actually thinking of making it my header-)

Ma boy never misses a chance 😭👍🏼

And if he doen't get a chance, he makes one and nails that too. <3

SO CUTEE 🥺🫶🏼

Oh the teasing is on.

Pun: I did that 😌

Beer: Idiots in love. Again. *exasperated sigh*

[From this point on, I am extremely sleep deprived, so most comments made will probably (definitely) be forgotten by the time I wake up (I'm going right to sleep after posting this.]

Well, Chain, I'm sorry to be the one telling you this, but Phum moved into Peem's heart like 6 episodes ago.

Well, yeah, but Peem has to act at least a little bit like the tsundere he is, right?

Chain: "Well, can a cupid shoot an arrow at himself?"

Toey: *very telling side-eye*

Q: You really think one flirty line will trigger his half braincell to understand what he didn't in the past however many years? ...go on, I wanna see how this turns out

Pun: *pikachu meme face*

Beer: Oh damn here goes another one, we must be nearing the last episode

Phum: ????

Peem: Don't say anything don't say anything DON'T SAY ANYTHING DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING SAY A SINGLE WORD- (internally: Idiots. They're idiots.)

Ah, I love the sibling energy here. Also, initially I was like nah you're more like Tan. But then I gave it some thought. And had a Realization: he really is the Fang in their relationship, and Q really is the Tan. (I do not have the brainpower to explain rn, but tell me if you want me too, I'll include it in Part 2.)

Phum can't wait. (And neither can Peem, because I didn't see ya denying anything, babe. Instead, you gave him the softest shoulder bump in the history of soft shoulder bumps and that bigass (smitten) smile.

Oh boy this scene.

Right before this, when Peem called Phum immediately after the last brushstroke, I was smiling so hard and giggling like yesss do boyfriend-y things with each other!

Him waiting on the porch: still big smile. Here comes Phum! Ooh are they gonna flirt in the car??

My smile started dimming as the seconds ticked by and no Phum appeared on screen.

Until I finally realized what was happening.

I almost stopped breathing.

And as the scene went on my heart broke a little more with every text and every call, and I was watching that mall scene again. Except it was much much worse this time.

So long story short, I was heartbroken for both of them. Especially when Peem showed up alone with the saddest lost-kitten face ever.

But, at this point I knew Phum must have had something really urgent/unaviodable to miss his meeting with Peem because 1. He really really loves that boy and 2. He was very much looking forward to doing this with Peem.

Unfortunately, I will have to end Part 1 here (please don't kill me), and I'm loathe to end on a sad note, but I promise the next part will be much happier. It will hopefully be posted a little later today.

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a pudding 🍮

My previous We Are posts.

[candiid-caniine]

Hey! Long time no see, i know i said id send you a fantasy i thought you'd like but now ive forgotten almost all of it, oop!

Life happened, and uh, i saw that you mentioned your libido being a bit low, which definitely is my case too (im recovering from depression, now that im okay id love to get my FULL libido back, or at least a good percentage of it) do you have any tips on that?

Also any recs of blogs writing in the same vibe as you? (same-ish kinks would be nice but im specifically looking for queer inclusive stuff!) it makes me 10x hornier than the regular video/photo porn!

Hope you're well, you pathetic little thing!

💫

hi friend!! ugh i feel you. sorry i haven't got any advice on regaining ur libido...we just let mine wax and wane as it will, though denial has been a big help in keeping it steady!

i've heard good things abt ginseng and some other herbs. obvs use at your own risk, mind that some herbal treatments can cross-interact with certain medications, remember that pre-packaged supplement pills are often unregulated and may contain toxins, and be aware that some herbal remedies work better on pw certain anatomy than others, and finally that many herbal remedies considered to increase libido are largely untested on trans folx!

finally, sorry it's taken so long to answer this ask...i'm autistic and have been cataloguing lol. i present to you a list of other blog recs under the cut, organized by general vibe! i've tried to primarily include blogs that do their own posts rather than those who primarily reblog :)

note that my headings may provide some context as to what to expect, but you read at your own risk and each blog will typically have its own trigger warnings addressed in the header/pinned. additionally, i've not tagged some of the ppl below because they prefer that "Men DNI" blogs not interact, and idk if "no cis men" qualifies ahah!

all blogs below are queer- and/or trans-inclusive, if not exclusive! there is no detrans/misgendering, at least I don't think - i don't tend to follow those blogs.

hard kinks (blood, knives, etc; includes primarily-cnc blogs):

@puppy-mommy , who also does general t4t kink content, but does state untagged hard kinks!

@visciousest is someone whose blog i scroll when i'm in a Certain Mood ahah,, i won't elaborate

@hell-hound-bites: just. fuck. would drool on his knife blade.

@snuff-fag: its username should give you fair warning as to how wild its content tends to get, so please browse responsibly.

@condor-bait is taking a break right now, and all my love is with him as he takes care of himself. he made me feel so valid and so fuckable as a young trans person learning to love myself in a new way, and i've always been too shy to tell him how much his content meant to me one-on-one (yes, despite its often-extreme themes!), and he deserves as much time as he needs to heal!

@unwillingfvckpuppy for mostly cnc and medical kinks! if you like his style, but not so much their harder content, he also has a more-tame main blog--i just mainly follow/scroll this one!

@vampvictim: top-tier cnc/intox stuff, plus some great knife/bloodplay :)

@cryptidtid is wonderful and holy shit i follow a lot of hard kink blogs lol. incredible

@cnc-pet: i have been following her for a long ass fucking time lol. they post a lot of really good cnc and stories, but you'll also find a lot of aftercare tips and advice on her blog! i really admire blogs who try to balance horny content with best practices

@dollobotomy

general kinky content:

@excessively-queer . just plain old good shit :) there's a good amt of edging and degradation.

@clouded-king was honestly one of my earlier introductions to the queer/t4t kink community on here and how fucking euphoric it can be :) he posts some hard kinks, but generally it's a balance of a lot of different kinks so read his pinned at your leisure!

@ / cottontailx : just good kinky nsft posts :)

@ / digitalpenetration: often specifically t4t which i love!!

@femmelovefemme can step on me :)

@bigothteddies: could not build this section w/o mentioning him :) they had a big influence on my fantasies for a long time!

@hazelj-xoxo: bigtime want her to cuck me. have followed her across multiple blog deletions lol

@transpidered is forever an icon!

@subspaceemo

@writefinch for great stories and text posts

edging and denial, specifically:

@6irlpet is 1 of my go-to hands-down-pants scroll sessions :)

@droolkink is my inspiration!

@flustersluts does exactly what the name implies lol. a good helping of other kink content too :)

@puppycvnt is a 10/10!

@barkwoofbarkwoofbark: we r denial friends imo!!

@strawbrrysub

@blyssful-abyss

@urhighnessbitch is a big fav <3

non-detrans genderplay:

@butchviolence does amazing butch supremacy stuff and i,,, fucking hell. even just seeing their username puts me in a Particular state of mind ahah. they also post hard kinks so be aware as you proceed!

@mtfdomme: i literally just reblogged from her today lol. tbh i want to be their little stupid pupthing. it's not all transfem supremacy undertones/overtones, but that's what i mainly follow her for, plus just general t4t goodness! also, their general personality? and the way she shuts down people who disrespect their boundaries? huge inspiration for me!

@cuntboydestroyer: take me to the animal shelter and neuter me. good lord.

@the-kind-of-dame is the main inspiration for my recent genderplay post lol

@terfbreaking-tgirl (be warned of dykebreaking if that's an issue for you)

@barbarian-lesbian is my other inspiration for the recent genderplay post

@superiorineveryway

weird asf (/complimentary; my favorite type of shit. robots, ND-focused posts, etc):

@specksizedgoddess has introduced me to things i didn't know, like...existed, and that's saying a lot as one of my special interests is kink! never knew how down bad i was to be a tiny buggirl, nor how much i wanted to be someone's stupid little robot... BIG tw tho: there is snuff and gore content here, so proceed with caution if you don't wanna see that!

@sapphling fucked me up real good with some bird!sub bondage posts awhile back lol

@nobelisha: found them through their ghost cnc post so that's why they're in this category ahah! they don't have a pinned so proceed w awareness :)

@devout-cleric: hierophilia/religion kink, and i'm something of an acolyte of hers :) if you've read this far down you may as well know i'm her Little Lamb anon lol

piss/omo:

@latenightomo

@pissheartmybeloved - their URL makes me crack up every time, plus good content!

@hold-it-a-little-longer - good scenarios/imagines!

@ohmyrashi - (i think) my original intro to omo!

monsterfucking/terato:

@septimus-moonlight was my first real introduction to trans-positive terato and i've never settled for half-fun cis-oriented terato ever since :) mind tags!

@eggedbellies as well!

@bredpun doesn't appear to be active lately but still good for a scroll!

@steamandcream

@of-mutts-and-men

[bonesbuckleup]

Hi, random q. I saw in your tags that you swear by Scrivener for original fic. I’m still plugging away in ye olde Word and now I’m intrigued to know what about Scrivener you like so much. I’ve def heard about it but never used it, so I’m curious :)

YES I would love to tell you about my lord and savior software Scrivener. I hope you don't mind I published this long, long answer publicly.

So. The main issue I have with Word and Google Docs is that you hit a certain length/word count, and it starts to lag and load kind of jerkily. You know? Also, navigating chapter to chapter or scene to scene is awkward for me--you either have to have a whole bunch of individual documents and multiple windows open, or you have to use headers and the table of contents...which is fine for quickly finding chapters but less so for scenes within those chapters.

Messy, basically. Does not spark joy for me.

Enter Scrivener.

Now, before I evangelize a bit, I will say that Windows Scrivener and Mac Scrivener are not 100% created equal. They are both better, I think, than Word or Google docs, but the Mac version is a bit slicker and a little nicer to look at. I only say that for if you're using Windows, because if so my screencaps below won't exactly match what you see if/when you download the program.

ONWARD.

So, the #1 thing that Scrivener has over Word is that it's a one time fee, not a subscription. So while it is a little pricey (Just went and looked, $59.99 USD), it's only the one payment. All updates and such are covered and available as free downloads. I will also say that Scrivener gives you a 30 day free trial. That's not 30 consecutive days, but 30 days of use--if you only use it every other day, you'll have the trial for 60 days. They make it really easy to figure out if it's for you or not.

This is also going to feel like a lot, but there are built in tutorials and it's actually pretty intuitive, depending on how your brain works. Anyway! The basic gist of Scrivener is that it's a digital binder. You can keep all your book stuff in one place:

As you can see, there's the manuscript (aka my book), notes, research, more. Tbh, I mostly just use notes and Manuscript, but if it floats your boat, you can store maps, place names, worldbuilding, playlist links, moodboards, a whole ton of stuff, all in one menu that's easy to access and in a single window. You can organize it however itches your brain the best way.

But like I said, for me, the best is that Manuscript part, which I'm going to go into now. I use a three act structure for books (but break the big ol' middle act into two pieces because it makes my brain happy), so each act gets a folder.

When I click and expand that act, each chapter has it's own folder. However, it also shows quick-reference index cards, so I can have an at-a-glance at what's going down in each chapter. (I'm using a outline system called Save the Cat for this book, which is why all my chapters have titles like 'Catalyst', feel free to ignore those...I also have a very compact timeline, so to help me stay organized, I labeled each chapter with when it happens.)

You can do the same with each individual chapter and the scenes, where when you click on the chapter folder, each scene gets a card. If you don't type in a summary, it'll just auto-populate the start of whatever content you were writing. You can see this in the 'Copper's Candids NEW' card.

And, of course, it is writing software. When you click on the individual scene, it opens the blank document, and you can get cracking.

So. This system is nice for a few reasons. My favorite is that it makes navigating, reorganizing, and/or rewriting scenes extremely easy. It's just point and click, drag and drop. You can also open two docs in the same window at once, like this:

Which is a nice feature for several reasons--you can work on a new version of a scene with the old one pulled up next to it, or if there's something you wrote earlier or that comes later that's important to what you're working on now, you can have them both up for quick referencing.

Another slick thing is each doc has a notes section off to the right side of the screen--which is optional! I use it for future revision notes/descriptions of how I want the scene to go:

My other favorite part of Scrivener is that it makes it very easy to hoard your deleted scenes like a deranged dragon in case you want them later. My garbage looks like this:

There are SO MANY FILES hanging out in my trash, and you know what? I so rarely actually need them, but my god am I glad they're there on the rare occasion that I do. Word, again, can make it more difficult. I always had a massive 'cut' document that was longer than the actual project and again, awful to navigate. This just makes it easier.

Scrivener also makes it easy to compile the manuscript into other doc types--pdf, doc, docx, etc--for easy printing and sharing.

ANYWAY. I'm sure there are approximately 1 million other things I'm missing, but basically Scrivener takes all your book/long project bits, puts them in one centralized file, and makes it super easy to navigate. I've also found that outlining is easier, because I can just make the folders and scenes and drag them around while I noodle through the plot.

10/10, would recommend to any long-form writer. If you have any other questions, please let me know! If anyone has read this far and has a thing about Scrivener to add, please do! I love Scrivener, and a lot of my writing buddies love Scrivener, and it really kinda has revolutionized the way I write original fiction. I'm always happy to yell about how great it is.

[mastermindmp3]

imgonnagetyouback

no header we die like men

So, a fun fact about me: I have a physical, burnt CD that I keep songs that play on the idea of "get them back." It is maybe my favorite, favorite double entendre to make.

First of all, I love the stylization of the title? Someone said something about it being a reference to a 1975 song? I actually don't care, I think the all lower case, no spaces presentation of imgonnagetyouback so perfectly encapsulates how she sings it. There's a distinct speed to it, a mischievous side smile to it as well.

Also, god, the vibe of the song is just a little sexy, just a little messy, it's everything I love. The narrator, seeking an ex-flame who ghosted her ( I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into a ditch / then ran and hid ) debates his fate.

There's something very... gloat-ish, in it. I can imagine the narrator, two shots deep, grabbing her lover by the jaw, to say, "I could leave you, like a dumb house party, or I might just love you 'till the end."

(Get Him Back - Fiona Apple)

This song tells, I think, a very tight story. The narrator describes a lover who "Knew the price goin' in." who she sees across the bar, after their split. Over the course of her night, she has decided. Even if I'm handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

My favorite part, and the most revealing, is the bridge. It's always the bridge! ( I think Swift's songwriting prioritizes the bridge as a moment of revelation, a moment where the "why?" of the song is answered. ) The narrator, in no uncertain terms, sees her lover still wanting her, and sees him as the turn around, the new future. Bygones will be bygone eras, fading into grey.

The narrator thinks that, by getting back with this lover (or by getting back at them) she can "push the reset button, we're becoming something new."

(I'm Gonna Get You Back - Florie)

The bridge's final line also reveals a little bit about how the Narrator sees herself.

Pick your poison babe, I'm poison either way.

The narrator tells her ghosted ex that both options will end badly for him. On one hand, she teases revenge throughout the whole song. Smash your bike / flip you off / curse you out. Or, as a much younger Swift might put it: I wrote a song about you.

On the other hand... There's a tell, there. That she thinks loving her ( pull you into the closet / take you back to my house / be your wife ) is just as poisonous. In a way, maybe the narrator is right. The song's placement directly before The Albatross could be the answer. The narrator sees that trouble will come if he gets back with her, too.

(get him back! - Olivia Rodrigo)

Back on the idea of gloating, though. The song has a bit of Mastermind to it too:

You'll find that you were never not mine.

The narrator feels so totally in control that she will get to decide the fate of this romance. I could take the upper hand. I can tell when someone still wants me. Once you fix your face, I'm goin' in. For a song with such a tight, perfect beat, it works so, so well. I love when the instrumental supports the lyrics.

[thaliagracesgf]

THALIA GRACE X READER HEAR ME OUT OKAY I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO PUT MY IDEAS INTO WORDS BC ENGLISH IS NOT FIRST LANGUAGE

Maybe reader were part of their group (luke annabeth and thalia when they werent in the camp) and they had a little thing back than (crushing basically) but maybe something happenned along the way and she couldn't gowith them to the way of chb. and maybe they found reader but she's on lukes side

happy ending pls

i'm finally posting again!!! and answering a request!! i hope you enjoy this (even though i lowkey hate it).

also yay finally adding headers!!!

thalia grace x hestia!reader

summary is basically the request!!

constant arguing. constant, constant, constant arguing. luke’s head was about to split open. 

“i could have handled him just fine, thanks,” thalia shouted, storming ahead on the narrow path through the woods somewhere in pennsylvania. 

‘guys, please,” he would have thrown his head back if he wasn’t carrying a sleeping annabeth on his back. you thought she was the most adorable thing, drooling a little on luke’s shoulder. even the knife she kept clutched in her small fist was cute, although luke looked a little terrified that if she jolted in her sleep she would slice his chest open. a few weeks ago, you had convinced luke and thalia to stop, let you brush out her matted curls, and put her hair in braids that wouldn’t get caught or tangled as you all continued along the road. of course, thalia sat there critiquing every knot and part you made (with a celestial bronze knife, mind you). 

“it had you pinned to the ground,” you said, referring to the stymphalian bird that had been chasing you from philadelphia. “it would have bitten your head clean off if you hadn’t gotten involved.”

thalia rolled her eyes. 

“can we try a little patience here? gratitude, maybe?” luke chimed in.

“shut up, luke,” you said in unison. you might be bickering all the time, but thalia was your best friend. you certainly didn’t need luke coming in the middle, acting like he ran the show because he was the oldest. you got enough of that from thalia, and she was only a year older than you.

“for gods’ sake,” he muttered.

you trudged along, summoning soft flames between your hands. you hadn’t been born to a goddess, necessarily, but your adopted mother, who had fallen for a kind librarian in your town, had found your doorstep one day, long after the librarian had disappeared from her life, with a note attached. you had accidentally incinerated it shortly after she took you in, but she gave you the gist, which was that hestia had found you through a fire in an orphanage, enthralled by the flames, and that she had decided you were in need of a mother. she had pulled you through the hearth, given you some strange blessing, and dropped you on your mother’s doorstep. 

eight years later, when you were nine, your mother had died in a plane crash on her way back from visiting her father. the foster homes hadn’t loved taking in a nine year old who could summon fire, so that was when you ran away. 

so far, you could tell that hestia was trying her best to help you along your travels, which was more than you could say for hermes (ironically) or athena, let alone zeus, who you were pretty sure was the one stopping the others from intervening. you got the impression that hestia didn’t answer to zeus as much as he would have liked. 

the fire came in handy at nights, when you could warm yourselves around it. you had a way of making even a campground in the middle of the appalachian mountains that crawled with monsters feel like home. you would go to sleep around the fire, but manage to wake up curled within thalia’s arms. you could never place it, but it felt different than how luke held annabeth like her life depended on it: as in, you would always wake to them giggling over their breakfasts at you, but it didn’t hold any weight to laugh at them.   

⭑

the fire came in handy when you were trapped, alone, in the cyclops’ cellar. you had screamed for your friends to leave you, that you would be okay. and it came in handy on the streets of new york for the next five years, and even at the candy shop you managed to get a job in (somewhat illegally: a nice woman named sally did sort of pay you under the table). 

then sally went missing. you lost your job, and you made your way south again, staying in the demigod hideouts you had made with luke, thalia, and annabeth. flames trickled across your skin as you cried, wishing they were still with you. you hoped they were safe at camp, but you could help wondering why they hadn’t sent anyone to come find you. did annabeth even remember you? 

⭑

luke found you just as you were about to starve to death. you’d been in an especial depression, hiding in the cave of the blue ridge mountains, over in tennessee. the cold of the winter was insane. you couldn’t remember it ever getting that bad in the city. 

you broke when he told you she was dead. 

“it’s his fault,” he said, false tears in his eyes. he had long forced away any emotion pertaining to camp half-blood. 

and so you joined him, becoming his right-hand man. the monsters in kronos’ army feared you. the girl with the flames, they whispered. yet in the privacy of your cabin, you silently prayed to hestia, let her guide you as you fought her brother. 

it was she who told you to follow luke to mount tam. 

⭑

the mountaintop was impossibly windy. you were relying entirely on your sword if there was trouble—any flame would be immediately extinguished. 

you hadn’t accounted for the bigger threat—the air leaving your lungs at the sight of your sister on the ground as artemis held the sky beside her. 

he promised. 

he had promised annabeth would never be hurt. 

your stomach churned. she didn’t even see you, bent over in pain. you couldn’t speak. you turned to luke, suddenly terrified. what had he done? what were you a part of? your legs turned to lead. no. he was already practicing. the titan lord was already too far in his mind to turn it around. and he sensed your allegiance shifting.

when she came over the hill your heart stopped. 

your vision blurred as you saw her face. as she came to your side, held your face in her hands, and helped you to the ground beside annabeth. 

you watched through teary eyes as she fought luke. as he fell from the cliff, you couldn’t help but reach out. 

and then your vision darkened. 

⭑

your eyes opened to warmth. annabeth sat by your side, brushing hair from your face. thalia stood talking to a boy—about twelve or thirteen, you guessed—and a man who shared annabeth’s dark skin and deep-in-thought expression. 

she rushed to your side when annabeth called. 

as she knelt beside you, you adjusted yourself on the couch. your hair was probably a disgusting mess. she smiled softly, brushing her own short hair behind her ear. 

“i thought you were a tree,” you croaked, and she laughed lightly. 

“i was. i thought you were cyclops food.” 

“i wasn’t.”

she lowered her head, and you pushed yourself up on your elbows. she pushed a pillow behind your head, but held it up with the hand that wasn’t resting on your thigh. as she kissed you, you saw the years of camping behind you and the years ahead of rushing to her tree as the hunters arrived at camp all at once. 

and as she pulled back, you saw annabeth smile, hiding her face in the other kid’s chest.