#and instead becoming incredibly bitter

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Writing a little something of the knight!price x princess!reader just because

Warnings: little bit suggestive towards the end, enemies to lovers? knight!au, fantasy!au (maybe?)

Price often wondered to himself how he could be so cursed as to have to see you everyday when he was back at the castle. Some higher power, or perhaps the universe, is playing some trick on him, punishing him for one reason or another.

He could hardly stand to see you walking in front of him, covered in lavish linen and silk that hangs across your body as if it had been painted onto your skin with expert brush strokes. The priceless jewels across your body as just a symbol of your status, a distraction from the one who wears it as well as to tell others that you're already spoken for.

He hides his disapproval well when his eyes catch onto them.

Price avoids looking at you. He has no desire to stare at the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight or the way you smile just a little wider when you speak to those who you call friends. To watch the way soft look that falls on your face when you have a moments breath to yourself or the beautiful look of concentration on your face when you read a new book.

He ignores the tightness in his chest when you don't spare him a glance and fights back an eyeroll as you speak to those who have your attention.

You voice echoes in his ears as much despite how much he hates it. Your sweet tones and passionate words are often stuck within his mind as he listens to speak all day about politics and other more trivial topics that a royal might engage in.

On the rare moments when you do look at him, with eyes of pure beauty and elegance, he finds it hard to look away and yet he only sees contempt within them. It's no surprise, he doesn't show you much fondness so why should you?

He isn't even spared from you even in the dead of night when he is alone in his bed. You haunt his mind with images of moments where he could brush his hand with yours or even hold you in his arms in hopes that maybe you wouldn't push him away. He goes so far as to think what your lips would feel like against his and what you feel like underneath him in the same bed.

Oh how Price hates you.

Oh how Price wants you.

A/N: does this make sense? probably not but it does in my brain and I needed to get it out so here lol

[pentaghast]

if im honest i like king alistair w a warden queen! theyre happy ur honor!!!

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…”

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR — hayakawa aki

summary . . . maybe aki’s in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but it’s your fault for always picking up the phone.

contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose — 5.6k

notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice i’m nervous hdjwjwk <33 i’m not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk

Aki calls you, sometimes, when he’s feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing. 

Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing it’ll just end up hurting. But you can’t help yourself, really. You’re incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago. 

Still, you’re a fool who refuses to move on. 

Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Aki’s door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment — you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly aren’t there. Aki wouldn’t have called you otherwise; you’re certain he doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning.  

Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you. 

“You got here faster than I thought.” 

“I’m freezing, Aki,” you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight o’clock, but he’s already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower. 

“Sorry,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I was in the bathroom.” 

You don’t reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that don’t belong to him. But you’re barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him. 

A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.

He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. It’s sweet and familiar, all the things you’ve ever wanted.

In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesn’t come home with new scars every few days, where he isn’t hell-bent on a goal you’re not sure he can ever achieve.

That dream of yours won’t ever become a reality, but it doesn’t stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own — how much you’ve missed it, even when you shouldn’t. 

When you’ve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. 

“Not even going to offer to make me dinner?” you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you can’t see it.

Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. “You said you were cooking — over the phone, you said you’d already eaten.” 

“Well, at least you remember that.” 

Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Aki’s hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. “Are you upset with me?” he asks, and you know he’s smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to others’ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. “If you didn’t want to come over tonight, I wasn’t forcing you.” 

A laugh almost escapes you — instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you aren’t going drop everything for Aki every time he says I don’t want to be alone tonight. 

Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you can’t fathom that he would think otherwise. You’ve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. It’s wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white. 

His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesn’t. “Who told you about that?” 

“Himeno.” 

Aki purses his lips. “I didn’t realize you two were friends now.” 

You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly don’t belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small. 

“I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like it’s the first you’d ever seen of the place. “But how else am I supposed to find out if you’re still alive?” 

You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then — far too old for a man that is still so young. 

“It wasn’t that serious. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove it’s still working properly. “Just a scratch.”

“It is serious. It’s serious to me,” you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesn’t smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he won’t let you see him.“I’m always worried about you, idiot. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you.” 

Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord. 

God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if he’d pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that you’d never see him again — or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.

But for now, it’s still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had. 

“I told you…” Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. “Damn it.” Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.

“I know,” you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. It’s hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. “You’ve reminded me — many times. I know this doesn’t mean we’re back together. I know, Aki.”

His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you. 

The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks. 

A thousand times you’ve been in this position, and it’s so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Aki’s breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes. 

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.

“Hm?” You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. “What did you mean?” 

Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Aki’s fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. “That I’m not fooling anyone,” Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. “That I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.”

Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that you’re certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs. 

As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.

Aki always kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows he’s going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time. 

It’s a sickening emotion to live with, but you’ve accepted it all the same. 

You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when you’re with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back. 

“You’re so pretty,” he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.” 

“Aki,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear that.” 

He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But he’s careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest. 

“Why?” he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” his tone is dry, sarcastic. Aki’s fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. “Want me to prove it to you?”

Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall in love with me again?” you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when you’d first met him. 

Aki’s eyes soften. “Why would I be afraid of a thing like that?” 

You don’t like the double meaning in his words, and you don’t want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping he’ll take and take from you, even though he’s always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but won’t worry about himself until you’ve come apart at least once. 

“Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. “I missed you.” 

You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same — there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You can’t look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead. 

“Whose fault is that?” you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips. 

A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. He’s so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like he’s been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it. 

You’d hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. You’re the fool that continues to play the game. 

Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed. 

“Want my fingers or my mouth first?” Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and he’s so pretty… it’s no wonder you’re so far gone for him. “Since you’re in such a mood tonight, I’ll let you choose.” 

There’s a tiny smirk on his face, and even though you’re about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin. 

“A-aki,” you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer.” 

He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you can’t tell if you’re soaked from his spit or your own arousal. “I picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouth’s on you,” he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. “No one’s here,” Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. “Want you to be loud.” 

A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, you’ve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, there’s never any reason to try and impress him. 

“Feels good,” you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesn’t let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesn’t let you move much, really. “Aki,” you whine, and though there are times when he doesn’t let you get your way, this isn’t one of them.

“So impatient,” he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers. 

Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that you’re in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. He’s right: you are impatient, because it’s been days since you’ve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Aki’s thick fingers and cock. 

His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and you’ll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you. 

Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. “Taste so good,” he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. “Think you can cum from just my tongue, baby? You’re so pent up, I don’t think you can last much longer.” 

You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Aki’s tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell he’s hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed. 

Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you would’ve lasted longer, but you can’t remember the last time you’ve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki. 

You don’t tell him when you’re close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he would’ve liked. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way you’d pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. “So easy for you to get me hard, you know that?” His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “Just the thought of you spread out like this is enough.” 

A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile you’d ever seen because you see it so rarely. 

“Gonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?” 

“Fuck, Aki, please,” you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. “Want you inside me. God, I need you so bad.” 

He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.

“Fuck, fuck,” Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. “God, you’re so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.” 

Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Aki’s hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt. 

“H-harder,” you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Aki’s walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Aki’s fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. “Please, sweetheart.” 

Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, “so needy, aren’t you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.” 

“Can’t help it, Aki,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. “God, you feel so good, I lo—”

You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. He’s known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you can’t let him go. 

Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you can’t define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Aki’s built with all lean muscle, and he’s so tall — so much taller than you that it’s easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way. 

Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, he’d never let anything — human or devil — lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.

Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry you’ll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips. 

“F-fuck,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow down—”

“No, no, I’m close,” you stumble over your words, meeting Aki’s intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. “It’s okay.”

“God,” he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though you’re certain he hasn’t believed in him for a while, and you’re not sure you do either. “I don’t deserve you.” 

You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all. 

His palm guides it’s way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Aki’s cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.

“Aki,” you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him. 

“I know,” Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. “You’re okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.” 

His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than you’d been anticipating, legs squeezing around Aki’s hips as you dig your toes into the mattress. 

“There we go,” Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. It’s not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know he’s going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. “My pretty girl. Shit,” Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress. 

It’s not your mess to clean, though, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall. 

“Aki,” you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

Silence falls across the room, and you can’t bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. There’s nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more. 

The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face. 

You sigh, and flip back on your side. 

Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Aki’s soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes. 

“Those things are going to kill you,” you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them. 

Aki doesn’t laugh, but it’s close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. “Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway.” 

“You sound like Himeno.” 

“Do I?” 

You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Aki’s had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before. 

It’s Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. He’s never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldn’t take offense to it either, you think. 

But it’s you he calls instead. It’s you who is too weak to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Aki whispers.

“So am I.” 

You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop what’s left of it amongst the other ends. Aki’s fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldn’t touch you, wish he’d just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you weren’t anything but a whore. 

Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed. 

It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. You’d truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if he’d always hold you like you meant something to him. 

“I need to go home,” you say, remembering that you still haven’t eaten dinner, that you’d left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, you’d always go home, just before the last train. You’d be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. “Aki…” 

“Stay.” He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. “Please stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. I’ll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.” 

You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. “Aki,” you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.” 

“Do what?” His voice is just as quiet as your own, and he’s still kissing you, holding you like you’re something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him. 

You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. “You must know that I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, I’m certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. I’m just a stupid, dumb girl.” 

He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on. 

“Please don’t call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. You’re so selfish, so selfish, why can’t I just move on?” You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, you’re putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home. 

“I can’t let you go,” Aki says, wiping your tears. “Fuck, I can’t — I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know I’m a selfish piece of shit, but I don’t want you to move on.” He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. “I’ll be better.” 

“Aki—”

“I’ll love you like you need, honey. I thought,” Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. “I thought it’d make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I can’t put you in danger, but I can’t stop loving you either.” 

You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely. 

“Aki, you’ll never love me like I need, because you’ll always put your work first,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I realized that a long time ago.” 

He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. “I can try.” 

You sob.

And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure he’s still breathing. 

But you can’t — it’ll never be that easy. 

Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. You’ll stay, but you’re not sure for how long. 

“I’m tired.” 

Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. “Okay,” he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. “I meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?” 

You want to say no, but you won’t. He’ll kiss you in the morning, and you’ll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while he’s still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. You’ll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades. 

Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then you’ll go home, and you’ll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because he’ll say anything to get you to stay. 

Or, maybe, he’s being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to. 

Less than likely.

“Okay, Aki,” you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. “We’ll talk about it in then.”

reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!

[dollypopup]

I truly cannot overstate just how much I adore Colin Bridgerton as a male love lead, and how important his story is, in particular in a current, modern reading. We live in a time of alpha male machismo that in many ways mirrors the sexism of the historical time period Colin is in, and we have a hero who explicitly rejects it. More than that, we have a hero who first tries on the persona, first tries to fit in, and then determines, with no outside influence and all on his own, that it's wrong. That he doesn't want to be like the men of his society, that he doesn't like the expectation of sex without love and commitment and connection, that he doesn't want to be 'one of the boys', even if it comes at their derision.

Because when Violet says he has always been her most sensitive child, when he has always considered others before himself, when he has always offered a joke or a moment of levity- for so long, he felt he had to. That there was no other choice.

Colin Bridgerton, The Great Pretender, is finally coming into the light.

Take my hand. Come walk with me.

Colin's arc is incredibly clear, and incredibly dear to me. We can track his progress throughout the seasons he has been in, but if we consider his backstory, it comes even more in clarity.

Piecing together a timeline with some influence from the books and loose historical accuracy, Colin loses his father at 12 and then is sent off to Eton. And he is a tiny thing when his father passes, shorter even than his 9 year old sister, Eloise.

(Yes, I checked!! He's half a head shorter than Eloise, and an entire head shorter than Daphne. This boy is SMALL)

So it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the start of his fake-it-to-make-it personality. He cannot grieve with his family in these circumstances, he's been sent off to school with other boys who are bigger and stronger than him, and he must realize relatively quickly that weakness in their eyes will never be tolerated. In fact, Eton was well known for corporal punishment and bullying during this time. Older boys were well known to mistreat the younger once, and considering just how small and soft-hearted Colin is, and just how vulnerable he is having lost his father-

Of course Colin would become a target of such.

And despite that, we meet him in Season 1 with an endearing earnestness and hopefulness in the world. Something inside him, something sweet and gentle and warm, thrives to live. And fights against grief to do so. How easy it would have been for him to lose his father and be bitter. How easy for him to see his father die from the steps of Aubrey Hall, to be sent to a boarding school away, and withdraw in on himself.

And yet, he doesn't.

At least, not in the way one would suspect. Instead, Colin becomes a chronic people pleaser. If the people around him are happy, then he will be safe. Will not be hurt. And they have no space for his own hurt, regardless. There's hardly even any space for his mirth, as most people didn't even reply to his letters on his travels the previous season.

In Colin's confession in Season 3, he says 'I have spent so long trying to feel less', and this numbing begins early in his life. He's a consummate gentleman in Season 1. He does everything by the book, everything as he should. He wants to be accepted in his society, wants to be taken seriously, wants to belong. So he sees a pretty woman, and he gets along with her well enough, and he courts her. Openly, honestly, in full view. It isn't a heart-stopping love, but he has numbed himself for years at this point, so affection will do, and if proper men of his society are married, well, maybe he'd finally be taken seriously.

And yet, no one notices him, even still. No one except Penelope. His own mother doesn't recognize his behavior, and worries for him after she does. How long has it been since she's actually seen him? We know from the show that he's incredibly close to his mother, and loves her dearly, but we also know that after Edmund's passing, Violet was mired in grief and post-partum depression. Colin misses much of this as a firsthand witness since he's at school, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be affected by losing his mother and father in one fell swoop. In fact, Colin loses his connection to the majority of his family in being sent to school so soon after the tragedy. So of course he comes back and he tries not to make waves. Tries to do things correctly.

His friction with Anthony proves time and time again that nothing he does is entirely ever able to fully please him, and this causes contention in their brotherly bond. Of all the siblings, Anthony is arguably the most harsh with Colin. And he is also the model for who a man should be in the family, as the head of the family.

So when Anthony sees Colin earnestly try to marry, he scoffs him off. Accuses Colin of only wanting to marry to have sex, and then claiming "It is my fault. I should have taken you to brothels." This is the first on-screen shaming of Colin looking for connection before sex, and Colin doubles down. He wants to marry for love.

But he doesn't actually love Marina. Neither of them truly know each other, and so when it all blows up, and he is humiliated to the entirety of his community, Colin gets his first taste of romantic failure. He tried to do it right, and it ended more wrong than he could have ever imagined. So, maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he is just a foolish, green boy, who has no idea how to go about things. The fallout of his failed engagement echoes in the persona he puts on in Season 3, and the choices he undergoes during them. Is it any wonder he ends up going to brothels to have unfulfilling sex if even his own BROTHER, the head of his family, tells him to do so?

It doesn't happen right away, though. Despite the fact that no one truly checks on him or sees how this breakup effects him (Eloise dismisses the hurt he must feel in light of such events with an honestly rather accurate wave-away "Men are always less affected", and that is true), it is evident that he is NOT okay.

We leave Colin in Season 1 putting on a mask, a happy face to his family, a 'you inspired me' to Penelope, and then spends his travels sad. Depressed. Taking drugs to try to ease his mind, occupying himself with writing to Penelope. In Season 2, he spends the entirety of it trying to be useful. And he does this with Penelope. He feels deeply for her, he cares so much for her, and he even says it to her aloud 'You are special to me' and 'I will always look after you' and how he could never give her up. Season 2 is a season of healing for Colin- he closes his chapter with Marina with a relationship post-mortum conversation after he does a wellness check to make sure she's alive (let's be real here, no one else was going to reach out to her. She made it clear to him that even her own father didn't want her), makes amends with Will, proves himself useful to Penelope, and departs on a high: he thinks he threaded the needle. He thinks he was successful sending Jack off, that he made Penelope happy, and that he's in with The Boys.

But whilst the person he is around Penelope is genuine, the person he is around these men are not. We know from Season 3 that they don't actually like him. They make snide, underhanded comments toward him, and laugh at him. I stand by the idea that end of season 2 is Fife and Co. laughing at Penelope AND laughing at Colin. They don't care about their friendship, they're teasing him for caring about her so openly, and Colin is protective of the relationship he has with Penelope. So he makes a comment for the boys, and puts on his mask. 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' (look, I'm just like you. I walk like you, talk like you, speak like you) 'Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife' (I am one of you one of you one of you- so why does it feel so hollow?)

He gets, now, his first taste of acceptance from them. They come to him to Mondrich's bar, he repays his slight against him, and he feels he is one of them. (Does he truly *want* to be one of them?) And so when we open Season 3, it's a smooth progression.

Colin is walking the walk and talking the talk, and yet his heart isn't in it. He's not one of these smarmy men, but he mimics them. Their behavior. In part, at least. Whilst Fife is out preying on 18 year old women in coat closets, Colin is telling gaggles of girls how pretty they are and how with such nice dresses, they're sure to find a husband. He makes it clear he's not an option, but that he doesn't mind being a fantasy. And Luke Newton does an amazing job making that clear: there are three sides of Colin. The Colin portrayed to his society in the light in good company (1) and the Colin portrayed to his society in the dark, in. . .less savory circles (aka: The Lads)(2), his 'armor' as his mum calls it. And finally, the most important but the one kept closest to the chest: the Colin of truth. The Colin who cries alone in his room after a breakup, the Colin who doesn't burden others with his feelings, the Colin who writes to Penelope, the Colin who loves deeply and feels deeply.

But his society has no use for a man like the real Colin, they do not *want* a man like real Colin, so he puts it under lock and key. And so much of this is centered around his feelings about sex, so here comes my 'Colin is Queer' soapbox. Colin does not experience sexual attraction like the rest of the men of the ton. He is expected to find it casual and be cavalier about it. To just want to fuck for the sake of fucking. But Colin needs love and romance and connection to actually enjoy sexual interactions. Nowadays, we recognize this as being on the asexual spectrum, of being demisexual, but he didn't have words for that in the time period he's in, so he has to forge ahead to figure himself out without a community identity to find solidarity with. That's what makes the brothel scenes so interesting as a narrative device: in the first, he's masking even in the midst of it, and in the second, he can't. After kissing Penelope, he finally, for the first time in his life, has a sexual interaction that means something to him.

It's the first one he truly enjoys, and the first one that feels right to him. It clicks for him that oh, that's what it's meant to be like. And the strain of that realization whilst still having to be what his society expects of him puts immense stress on his shoulders. You see how he grows more and more uncomfortable about the conversations, until finally he rejects it outright.

Even when it's very much not encouraged for him to do so. He's even told "You are much more fun this season." That's why he hides himself. From near everyone, even his family, even his brothers. It's telling how Anthony's positive interaction with Colin is when they're at the club, and Anthony praises him for his most recent attention. Have we seen much of Anthony being proud of Colin, otherwise? Not really. So he's reinforced in his persona. Doesn't boast of his travels because it didn't have anyone liking him for it, before. Doesn't even say how many cities he's gone to. Except with Penelope.

In the books, there's a line about their kiss, referencing how his world will never be the same. And it won't be. Because when Colin says that she helps him see the world in new ways, it's in a multitude of meanings.

Penelope refuses to let him wear the mask, because in truth, Penelope is the only one who doesn't like it. Not only does she see the real Colin, but she enjoys the real Colin. Whilst everyone else is simpering over Colin's new look and attitude, rejects who he is in reality, Penelope dismisses it, wants the person she knows him to be instead. It's only when he strips down the facades that Penelope allows him into her life again. And her Whistledown article was harsh, but it was also true. He *is* masking. He *is* putting on a persona and a role. But she was wrong when she asked if Colin even knows which is real: Colin knows very well which is real. And he also knows the realities of him haven't been accepted.

When Colin tells Penelope charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. When he says 'living for the expectations of others is a trap' it is because he has already fallen into it, and if he can't dig himself out, maybe he can keep her from it. Colin tells her 'you do not need lessons' and that she is fine exactly as she is, because just as she sees the real him and loves him, he sees the real her, and loves her, too. But they both live in the constraints of their society, and so they both put on the masquerade. Even sometimes to hide from each other.

The current climax of his arc is when he's out with the lads, after they all go off to the brothel again, and he disassociates from the experience. Playing cards and insisting on sharing sexual exploits, to which he does not want to take part, and makes a lighthearted dig at them. 'There is no gentleman at this table'. He includes himself in that, and then clarifies. He speaks aloud for the first time to them the truth of his heart- 'Do you not ever tire of the expectation to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning? Do you not find it lonely?' Can it really only just be him?

And it is. Or, maybe it isn't, but the rest of them aren't brave enough to admit it, so they're okay in making him feel like it is, in outcasting him for being a romantic, for caring about a woman beyond what she can provide for him sexually. Colin professes he doesn't like who he's become, doesn't like the expectations for him to behave the way he has, and they laugh at him. Again. He is made fun of, again.

He goes home and he falls in his bed and he feels like he lost it all. Lost Penelope to his own advice, and lost his newfound shine in his community. But when he's faced with which one matters more to him, he chooses Penelope. Unhesitatingly.

Colin chooses to be sensitive. He chooses to be a warm-hearted, gentle man in a society that prefers sexist machismo. Act one way in the light and another in the shadows. Colin wants to live authentically, as a man he doesn't really have a role model for. He is brave and he is tender, he sees the sexism of his society and he rejects it. He sees the importance Penelope has in his life, the way she makes him feel, and he embraces her wholeheartedly. He wants love and romance, he wants connection and meaning.

Colin, The Great Pretender, sick of pretending. Colin, walking into that ballroom and giving Fife the cut direct when he invites him out. Colin, cutting into a dance in the middle of a ball between Penelope and a man the entire city knows is about to propose. Colin staring deeply into her eyes with such unfiltered longing even *Cressida* can't help but notice what's going on. Colin running off after Penelope in full view of his society, outrunning a *carriage* to see her. Begging her to let him in. Colin on his knees, all but flaying his chest open for Penelope to see his heart. Colin made a choice when that candle flickered out, and his choice was Penelope. His choice was himself. And his choice was to flip off societal expectation and to live for love, damn the consequences.

I think our own world would be a better place if modern men took his example, too. Colin Bridgerton as male love lead in Bridgerton, a global show, is such a refreshing, wonderful example. A man who tried to be like what the world wanted, and who decided to go against the gender norms of his time. A man who prioritizes the woman he loves, who risks ridicule in doing so and comes to realize that he doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore about being one of the boys, one of the lads, one of the guys. Fuck his society if his society can't recognize the beauty of what he feels with Pen. He cares about being the best self he can be. And that best self is around Penelope, inspired by Penelope.

Because how he is with Penelope? God, I could swoon. At every turn, he prioritizes her comfort and personhood. He validates her, he sees her in beautiful, positive light and he helps her see herself that way, too. He encourages her to be brave because he already feels she is, he refuses to let her call herself stupid or a laughingstock, he apologizes without excuses, he checks in on her every step of the way. He's so passionate in that carriage, he's burning for her, he's yearning, but he doesn't do anything until she agrees for him to. He confesses his feelings and when she says they're friends, he backs off. He listens, he cares. He apologizes for overstepping her boundaries, and then when she gives him her consent, the only thing on his mind is showing how much he wants and appreciates her by providing her pleasure. Colin, the people pleaser, dedicated only to pleasing two people in that moment: Penelope, and himself. Because he wants to do that, to give her an orgasm that exists just for her. He's a witness to it, and that's pleasure for him, too. He waits for her nod of consent, he revels in seeing her enjoying herself. And the aftercare- I could cry.

Colin is a man who had every single reason not to be a kind, sensitive soul, and still he chose it. Chose to share it because the headline, even a wallflower can bloom, that's not just for Penelope.

It's for Colin, too.

[shidoutsukiomi]

I find it a bit strange how it's okay and normal to say trans men have 'afab privilege' but if you say trans women have 'amab privilege', that's bad and wrong and incorrect and also maybe you should kill yourself. strange stuff

somehow trans men were 'socialised female' and therefore can 'get away with being women' but trans women were not 'socialised male' and can't 'get away with being men' cos there's something inherently feminine, inherently queer about them.

though, i spent my whole life being called gay, getting asked if i was a butch lesbian, getting asked if i was a tranny, cos i wore pants [girls!] instead of skirts, cos i wore shirts [girls!] instead of blouses, cos i wouldn't wear dresses and would prefer [girls!] formal wear that weren't dresses, cos i liked bionicle instead of dolls, cos i played video games, cos i swore, cos i liked heavier music, cos my favourite colour wasn't pink, cos i wore caps. i would not say i fit into girlhood at all, actually.

but this masculinity was inherent to me, it still is, i couldn't and can not change it (despite trying, very hard, to my detriment) so i ALWAYS stuck out as being 'too masculine' for other girls. and then i come into queer spaces and i'm 'too masculine' for other queer people - but that's besides the point, currently.

so, currently, when i see people say 'trans women aren't "socialised male," that's not real, they always stick out as "other"' and then turn around and say 'trans men have afab privilege, they can be women to get away with things, they fit into girlhood so well' I can't help but become incredibly fucking frustrated. this is not true and actually it's something we have in common! neither of us were socialised 'correctly' cos we're both trans and raised amongst peers who were not trans!

everything from masculine girls to trans men do not fit into 'girlhood' cos masculinity is not what girlhood is meant to be. this shouldn't be hard to grasp. this is why the 'socialised' concept is bullshit cos it's founded on whatever was forced upon you as a kid and if you don't fit that standard you will not be socialised that way due to, in large part, being fucking ostracised from everyone else. and that doesn't mean there won't be things to unlearn, i know very many trans men who were very feminine for a long time and the opposite for trans women, but someone who clearly cannot fit what's being pushed onto them is going to come off as 'strange' and 'uncanny' to the people who can fit into what's pushed onto them.

but the way people talk about this really highlights to me that yous don't want to consider us trans in the first place - transness is for trans women and not for trans men, socialisation concepts are fake when it comes to trans women but real when it comes to trans men cos they're not really trans, 'amab privilege' would get you branded a TERF or radfem saying it to a trans woman but it's fine to say trans men, trans men have 'afab privilege' cos we're not trans, we're just women. you know until we get a little too rowdy and then we're not trans, we're just men.

maybe i'm just jaded and bitter. idk

[alittlebitofsainz]

- sunshine -

prompt: “you give me hope when the dark clouds fill the sky, you always find a way through, my little ray of sunshine.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: they say first is the worst, second is the best, but what about if you were so close to first place? 100% inspired by the events of this weekend lando stop being so mean to yourself pls and thank u xoxo

warnings: lando being a miserable little so and so. the usual swear words.

a/n: I’m BACK! I moved house and then just became very busy and also rather uninspired. not sure if I’m 100% happy with this but I just wanted to post something!! missed u all heaps and heaps, hope to keep writing more very soon xx lyrics from track #67 sunshine by the brummies. thought this band were from good ol’ birmingham west midlands but turns out they’re from birmingham alabama

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

it wasn’t uncommon for lando to be like this.

he’d gotten a lot better over recent years, but every so often the self-criticism would creep in again. you could anticipate it coming; it would start with little comments, a muttered “lando, you fucking idiot” to himself here and there, self deprecating jokes to interviewers about that final corner where he’d gone off and ruined his lap. it could go on like that for a while, until eventually something would set him off properly, like a ticking time bomb that had gradually been building pressure until it was ready to explode.

“fuck sake.”

you watched as lando trailed through the garage, a string of curses muttered through gritted teeth as he passed, seeking solace from the TV cameras. admittedly, you could understand his frustration; even you had thrown your hands up in the air as he’d been squeezed out of first place on the very first corner. it was unlucky, but it was also his own fault for making a mistake: lando knew it, you knew it, and you also knew that he was feeling it. you watched him go past and disappear off down the corridor, no doubt heading for the solace of his drivers room. you paused, weighing up your options for just a moment.

“Lan?”

the echo of your knock on his drivers room door reverberated down the corridor. the mclaren motorhome was a ghost town, reminding you of the fact that everyone else was out celebrating - everyone but lando, rather ironically.

a noise came from inside the room, no doubt lando grumbling something inaudible under his breath as he made his way across the room, before the door eventually opened. you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped you - it had been such a long while since you’d seen him this way. it was subtle; the average person may not have even picked up on it, but you could always tell. It was his eyes, they somehow lacked the hues of green and blue they usually possessed, instead reflecting back a washed out grey colour, like the light had gone out from behind them.

“you got p2, Lan.” you reminded him softly as he stepped away, a silent invitation for you to come in. you knew those words wouldn’t help.

“it should’ve been p1.” came the mumbled reply from where lando had sunk back down on the sofa. you kicked the door closed behind you and made your way over to sit down beside him, your shoulder pressed into his.

“but you were so close, lan, a few more laps and you would’ve got him, I know it.”

“I know I was close!” your response had touched upon something lando didn’t want to hear, a fact you were made very aware of from the bitterness in his tone as he snapped back at you, “but I wasn’t close enough. I fucked up on that first corner. the team deserved better.”

you leaned back on the sofa, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over your next words. you’d been here before, in this vicious cycle where the more you tried to remind lando how incredible he was, the more he’d refute it, the more frustrated and self critical he’d become. one of those times, he’d told you that you wouldn’t understand, and it had hurt. it had hurt because you knew it was true. you didn’t understand. you didn’t understand how lando could be such a great driver and still best himself up over the smallest of mistakes.

“‘m sorry. didn’t mean to shout at you.”

you glanced up from where your gaze had drifted down to your lap as you’d been considering your response, only to find your eyes locked with lando’s grey ones, full of something you quickly identified as remorse. he’d mistaken your silence, assumed that you’d been wounded by the sharpness in his tone, when in reality you had barely registered it - you knew his fleeting anger wasn’t directed at you. it was directed at himself.

“no, no, don’t worry ‘bout it. I was just thinking, that’s all.” you sat back up quickly, shaking your head as you forced your expression to soften, “I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better, to make you see how well you did today, but-“

“just you being here is enough.”

the reply with which he cut you off was so quiet that you had to tilt your head and give lando a questioning look, one that told him you weren’t quite sure you’d heard him right. he let out a soft sigh, eyes directed to the floor, the faintest hint of red colouring his cheeks as he cleared his throat.

“I said, you being here is enough. with me.” he clarified, voice just a little louder than before.

“Lan, there’s nowhere else I would be right now, you know that.” you dropped your voice, matching his soft tone. an instinctive hand came to rest upon his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I just mean-“ lando shifted slightly to face you, expression swimming with a quiet admiration, “I don’t always make it… easy.”

you let out a chuckle at that, despite the situation, and it earned you a raised eyebrow and the smallest hint of a smile from lando.

“what I’m trying to say is,” lando continued, “I really appreciate you sticking with me. not just now, but, like, through everything. even when I’m like this.” lando gestured vaguely around the room, but he didn’t even need to for you to know exactly what he meant.

“even when you’re grumpy.” you clarified helpfully. that one earned you a playful scowl.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that.” he complained, but his tone was lighter than before. “and anyway, I was trying to be serious, don’t ruin it.”

you held your hands up in mock surrender and stifled another laugh, before letting out a soft sigh, observing lando quietly for a moment.

“I’m always on your side, Lan, even if you’re not.” the sincerity in your tone was reflected in your expression as you held his gaze for a moment more, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, his hand finding your own as your fingers intertwined.

it was perfect and peaceful, until it wasn’t. until a knock at the door and the voice of lando’s pr manager brought you both back down to earth, reminding lando that it was time to go out and deal with the interviews. he let out a sigh, reverting back to the solemn state you’d found him in, and you wished you could make it all go away, to tell all the reporters to fuck off. but as you flicked your gaze back to lando, catching his eye as he stood up and smoothed the base of his fireproofs, you realised that he was going to be fine: he flashed you a lopsided smile, and for a moment the afternoon sunlight caught his eyes, the flecks of blue and green dancing across them once again. yeah, you were both going to be fine.

you flashed him a final smile as he slipped out of the drivers room, leaving you alone in there with your thoughts until he returned.

a/n: as always, I might add more to this if I feel so inclined! let me know if you want to be tagged xo

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - The Lioness's Webs

Summary - In a calculated game of ambition and seduction, her deft navigation of her brother's manipulative schemes to charm Prince Jacaerys, the future heir, leads her entangled in a web of power, desire, and uncertain loyalties amidst the glittering backdrop of courtly intrigue.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister reader

Warnings - Violence (barely)

Word count - 2053

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Prince Jacaerys, the future heir to the Iron Throne," my brother pointed out, his grip on my arm uncomfortably tight. I winced, but he didn't release me until I forcefully pulled away, knowing a bruise would soon enough blossom beneath his fingers.

"What an incredible opportunity for him," I muttered under my breath, feeling his intense gaze drilling into me.

"Go, speak to him, charm him," he commanded, his voice cold and demanding. I suppressed a bitter laugh, knowing better than to provoke him further.

"What, the same way you tried to charm his mother at her brother's name day?" I retorted with thinly veiled sarcasm. His expression hardened into a mask of anger.

"You are a Lannister, a lioness. I trust you have enough wit to understand that becoming the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms will greatly benefit our house," he argued, his tone brooking no opposition.

"So you're willing to use your younger sister as a pawn for power?" I asked incredulously.

He smiled tightly, a chilling sight. "Precisely."

"Think of the freedom, the wealth, the power you will wield," he continued, his voice now dripping with manipulation. "Imagine the influence you will have, the decisions you can shape."

I took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest at his callous disregard for my feelings. Instead, I focused on the potential benefits this alliance could bring, freedom from my brother's suffocating control and a position where I could assert my own influence.

"Fine, I will do what needs to be done, for the future of our house, of course," I forced out through gritted teeth. 

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "Remember what happened the last time you disappointed me. Don't make me remind you again." 

The threat was clear, a shadow that hung over me, compelling me to move forward even as every instinct screamed at me to run.

His smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as his hands landed heavily on my shoulders. I fought the urge to flinch at his touch, steeling myself against the weight of his expectations.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

I smoothed the folds of my black and gold dress, a strategic choice, black to honour House Targaryen, with touches of gold to pay homage to my own lineage.

The neckline plunged in a daring V, the fabric draping elegantly off my shoulders, revealing the delicate curve of my collarbones. The dress was tailored to perfection, hugging every contour of my body, accentuating each curve.

Every detail was calculated, designed to catch his eye and draw him in.

As I stepped into the grand hall, the room seemed to pause. Conversations faltered, and eyes turned toward me, drawn by the magnetic pull of my presence. I could feel the weight of their gazes, curious, admiring, envious but I had eyes for only one person.

Prince Jacaerys stood near a towering column, his tall frame partly obscured. His eyes, dark and contemplative, met mine with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Fidgeting with his wine goblet, he betrayed a shy demeanour in the way he shifted from foot to foot.

With deliberate grace, I manoeuvred through the crowd, acknowledging nobles who sought my attention with polite nods and smiles, yet never pausing long enough to engage deeply. 

Each step I took was a calculated move in the dance of seduction.

From the corner of my eye, I caught my brother's disapproving glare. His impatience and warning were palpable, urging me to expedite our plan. I simply disregarded his silent commands, understanding that our strategy hinged on subtlety and timing.

Just as I was about to reach the prince, a nobleman stepped into my path. Ser Alistair Blackwood, known throughout the realm for his charm and roguish ways, bowed low and extended his hand with a flourish.

"Lady Lannister, may I have the honour of a dance?" His voice dripped with insincere charm, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Suppressing my irritation, I smoothed a polite smile onto my lips. "Of course, Ser Alistair," I replied gracefully, taking his hand as the music swelled around us.

As we began to dance, I could feel Prince Jacaerys's eyes on us, his expression a mix of curiosity and discomfort. Perhaps this unexpected interruption could work in my favour.

Ser Alistair, emboldened by the attention, leaned in closer than propriety allowed.

"You are a vision tonight, my lady," he murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. "Surely you must have countless suitors vying for your favour."

I chuckled softly, though my mind raced with annoyance. 

"Your words are kind, Ser Alistair," I replied diplomatically, subtly trying to maintain a respectable distance. "But I am here for more than mere flattery."

As the dance continued, Ser Alistair's hand on my waist tightened possessively, his intentions becoming increasingly clear. I stole a quick glance toward the Prince, silently pleading for him to intervene. 

The flicker of jealousy in his dark eyes was unmistakable, and a spark of hope ignited within me.

To my relief, he stepped forward, his usually shy demeanour overridden by a surge of determination. 

"May I cut in?" His voice, though firm, carried a polite gentleness.

Ser Alistair, momentarily taken aback by the prince's assertiveness, hesitated before gracefully conceding. "Of course, my prince," he replied, releasing me with a reluctant bow and stepping aside.

I placed my hand in Jacaerys's outstretched palm, feeling a flutter of anticipation as he led me into the next dance. His grip was gentle yet sure, his posture revealing a mix of nerves and resolve.

The dance floor, once merely a stage for courtly performances, now felt like the arena where fates intertwined and decisions were made.

"You look beautiful tonight, my lady," Jacaerys murmured, his voice soft but sincere as we began to move in rhythm.

"Thank you, my Prince," I replied warmly, letting my fingers linger against his for a moment longer than necessary, subtly conveying my appreciation.

As we danced, I maintained steady eye contact, my gaze inviting and warm. I could see him struggling to find his footing, both literally and figuratively. His shyness, far from being a hindrance, added an endearing charm to his demeanour, making him appear more genuine.

"Would you like to step outside for some fresh air?" he suggested after a brief pause, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

"That sounds lovely," I agreed, as I allowed him to lead me through the ornate corridors to a secluded part of the garden. 

As we stepped into the garden, the air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, a sweet yet almost suffocating fragrance that clung to my senses. The night air greeted us with a cool embrace, a welcome contrast to the warmth and clamour of the crowded hall.

"May I fetch you a drink?" he offered, ever the gentleman, his eyes lingering on my face.

"Please," I replied, my voice soft yet composed, giving him a warm smile. 

As he walked away to fulfil my request, I stole a quick glance back at my brother. His eyes gleamed with approval, a smug smile playing on his lips. I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the pivotal moments to come.

When the prince returned with two goblets of wine, I accepted mine with a grateful nod. "Thank you, my prince," I said, my fingers brushing against his as I took the goblet.

"You're welcome," he replied, his blush deepening at our fleeting touch.

We stood amidst the tranquillity of the moonlit garden, shielded from the clamour of the celebration inside.

"It's so peaceful out here," I remarked, lifting the goblet to my lips for a sip of the wine.

"Yes, a welcome respite from all the noise," he agreed softly, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

Finding a stone bench bathed in the romantic glow of lantern light, we settled down side by side. I positioned myself close enough that our knees brushed lightly, a deliberate move to strengthen the burgeoning connection between us.

As our conversation flowed in the secluded serenity of the moonlit garden, I subtly orchestrated a moment of vulnerability. I noticed a small trinket dangling from my wrist. A delicate bracelet adorned with intricate silver filigree. 

With a subtle flick of my wrist, I let it slip from my fingers, the soft chime of metal meeting stone barely audible in the quiet night air.

"Oh!" I exclaimed softly, feigning surprise as the bracelet tumbled to the ground beside his feet.

Prince Jacaerys, ever the gentleman, reacted swiftly. "Allow me," he said with gentle concern, kneeling beside me to pick up the bracelet. His fingers brushed mine as he handed it back.

"Thank you, my prince," I murmured, meeting his gaze with a grateful smile. Our eyes locked for a lingering moment, the air between us charged with unspoken understanding.

"You're welcome," he replied warmly, his own smile mirroring mine as we sat in a comfortable silence.

"I've always admired your dedication to your house," I began in a hushed tone, allowing sincerity to colour my words. "It's a rare quality, especially in someone as young as you."

His gaze dropped modestly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Thank you," he replied humbly. "I do my best for my family and the realm."

"And it shows," I continued, letting my hand rest lightly on his knee, a gesture both comforting and intimate. "You possess a strength and nobility that may not always be apparent to others, but I see it clearly."

His eyes met mine, reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "Do you really think so?" His voice was barely above a whisper, betraying his uncertainty.

"Absolutely," I affirmed with conviction, leaning in slightly closer. "That's why I believe you will make a great king one day. The realm needs someone with your vision and heart."

Our conversation flowed effortlessly, each word carrying a weight of intention as we navigated the dance of courtship and intrigue. Subtle touches and lingering glances punctuated our dialogue, drawing him further into the web I carefully spun.

"You're very kind," he murmured, his voice a soft admission of admiration. "And I must admit, you're also quite captivating."

"I'm glad you think so," I replied, allowing my hand to rest gently on his arm. "Because I've found myself quite taken with you as well, my prince."

His blush deepened, but he didn't shy away. Instead, he leaned closer, his eyes earnestly searching mine. 

"You have a way of making me feel at ease, my lady," he confessed. "Like I can truly be myself with you."

"And you can," I assured him, my voice tender with sincerity. "I'm here to support you in any way I can."

He exhaled softly, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed my words. "I appreciate that more than you know," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you like to take a walk with me? I feel there's so much more I want to share with you."

"I'd love to," I replied warmly, a genuine smile lighting up my face. 

Rising gracefully, he offered his arm, which I accepted with a soft smile. Together, we ventured away from the bustling hall, choosing instead the quietude of moonlit paths in the garden.

As we walked, our conversation continued in hushed tones, weaving dreams and aspirations into the tapestry of the night. Prince Jacaerys spoke of his ambitions for the realm, his hopes for peace and prosperity. 

I listened attentively, offering encouragement and insights where I could, my presence a steady support.

"You have a way of making everything seem possible," he remarked, his voice tinged with admiration as we paused by a tranquil fountain.

"That's because it is," I replied softly, squeezing his arm gently. "With the right people by your side, there's nothing you can't achieve."

He turned to me then, his eyes reflecting gratitude and a growing fondness. "I'm glad you're here tonight," he confessed quietly.

"And I'm glad you are too," I replied sincerely, my voice soft with affection. "I believe we can accomplish great things together."

As we continued our stroll, the bond between us solidified with each step. I knew I had captivated him. The night had been a success, a carefully orchestrated dance of strategy and emotion. 

As we eventually parted ways, a promise hung in the air. A promise of alliances formed, of futures entwined, and of a destiny waiting to unfold.

A/n -  I need to start picking a different piece of jewllery to drop x

[konigsblog]

jealous situationship könig plsplspls

jealous, situationship könig...

cw: forced impregnation, tampering with pregnancy. 🍼

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT — MDNI 18+

although you're not in a committed relationship with könig, his jealousy skyrockets through the roof when you talk about a hookup you had the other day.

at first, könig is lost for words. in his mind, he believes you're still in an established relationship, forgetting that this isn't anything serious and that you've broken up from your past relationships. the pair of you aren't completely over each other, but sure as hell don't miss the toxicity of your past relationship. the remembrance and realisation that you don't belong to him leaves him bitter and callous towards you, his envy for that man blooming inside of his chest as he sucks in a sharp gaze and averts his gaze from you.

you have sex often, using hate fucking, or using the excuse that sex has never felt better when it's with you both, a pathetic attempt at justifying the reason you continue to see each other, the both of you knowing the truth, yet refusing to admit it.

sometimes you don't bother using any protection. the thought of you getting with another man leaves könig incredibly and ridiculously jealous, fearing you'll submit and commit to him instead. it's all he thinks about, plaguing his every thought. his attempts at finding love with other women are fruitless as all he wants is you, and to könig, there's only one solution to this problem.

forced impregnation. if you're not going to have babies with him, or stay loyal and committed him, then he'll force it upon you. you don't suspect a thing, allowing könig to use your pretty pussy as an outlet for his frustration and anger, the creamy tip of his slick cock rubbing against your cervix as he feels himself becoming hotter, breathless and insatiable, his orgasm inching closer with each thrust before he begins to shoot ropes of his potent semen inside of you, unbeknownst to you.

you're under the impression that you're having protected sex—that the likelihood of getting pregnant is low. oh, how könig craves your reaction to your sudden and unexpected pregnancy, perhaps then you'll realise that you belong with könig, that he will go to extreme measurements to have his way with the one he desires the most. :(

[paddockletters]

revenge | carlos sainz

paring: carlos sainz x reader| daniel ricciadro platonic!x reader request: yes / thank u so muchhhhhh! summary: When Ferrari drops Carlos, everything changes. What begins as heartbreak quickly turns into an epic comeback.

The second Carlos walked through the front door, his shoulders slumped and his jaw clenched, I knew something was horribly wrong. The energy was off. His usually bright eyes were clouded with disappointment, and the air felt heavy with something unspoken.

I closed the book I was reading and stood up quickly, concern etching across my face. “Carlos? What happened?” I asked, my voice already trembling.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, ran a hand through his hair, and sank into the couch. His silence was deafening, making my heart race even more.

“They dropped me,” he finally muttered, barely above a whisper.

“What?!” My heart stopped, confusion and anger fighting for dominance. “Who dropped you?”

“Ferrari. They’re letting me go after this season.” He looked up, and his eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of disbelief and sadness. “It’s over.”

A heavy silence hung between us for a moment. How could they do this? How could Ferrari let go of Carlos, someone who had poured everything into the team? Rage bubbled up inside me, and before I knew it, I was pacing the room, fists clenched.

“This is bullshit,” I snapped, unable to contain my fury. “How can they just drop you after all you’ve done for them? You’ve been giving it your all!”

“They said they wanted to ‘go in a new direction,’” Carlos explained, his voice dripping with bitterness. “New direction, my ass.”

I stopped in front of him, crouching down to meet his eyes, my mind already racing with ideas. “Carlos, you don’t deserve this. We’re not going to let them get away with this. You’ve got too much talent to sit on the sidelines.”

He shook his head softly. “What can we do? It’s Formula 1. Teams make decisions like this all the time.”

But I wasn’t going to accept that. Not after seeing how much Carlos loved this sport, how much he lived for every race, every lap. I couldn’t let Ferrari destroy his dream.

“I’m not going to let them get away with this,” I declared, standing up with determination. Carlos looked up at me, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” I pulled out my phone, already forming a plan in my mind. “Trust me.”

I started making calls. I was an heiress, after all—money wasn’t the problem, but power? That was where the fun began.

A few months after Ferrari’s betrayal, Carlos and I stood in the sleek new garage of what would soon become the most talked-about team in Formula 1. I had used every resource at my disposal—contacts, investments, sheer will—to get a majority stake in a team that had been on the verge of collapse. I didn’t care about the costs. I cared about giving Carlos the chance he deserved.

“You really did it,” Carlos whispered, walking slowly around the car, his fingers brushing lightly against the sleek new design. “I can’t believe this.”

“You better believe it,” I said with a grin, watching his awe-struck expression. “This is your comeback. And Daniel’s too.”

Carlos turned to me, his face softening into a look of deep appreciation. “I don’t even know what to say. You’re incredible.”

I shrugged playfully. “Just say you’ll win.”

Carlos smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “No pressure then, huh?”

Before I could respond, Daniel burst into the garage with his usual energy.

“Look at this beauty! They might have dropped us, mate, but they didn’t see this coming,” Daniel said with a grin, walking over to give Carlos a playful slap on the back.

“Who’s ready to kick some ass?” he said, nodding towards Carlos. “We’ve got our own team, mate. Can you believe it?”

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

“If you’d told me a year ago this would be happening, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Well, believe it,” I chimed in, walking over to give Daniel a quick hug. “Because you two are going to show everyone what they’re missing.”

Daniel winked. “You know, you’ve always had a way of making things happen.”

“Gotta admit, you pulled off a miracle. And I didn’t even have to charm anyone for it.” Daniel turned to me, eyes full of mischief.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Ricciardo.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

“That’s why she’s the best.”

Daniel made a mock gagging sound.

“Alright, you two, save the romance for after we win some races.”

As we stood there, planning for what was sure to be an exciting season ahead, I could already feel the buzz. The buzz that comes from knowing we were going to take on Formula 1 headfirst. Carlos was back, and he wasn’t coming alone.

Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Lando popped up:

"You guys really pulled it off, huh? Should I be scared?"

I showed the message to Carlos, who laughed.

“He should be.”

Max quickly followed: "Finally, a real challenge. Let’s see what you two can do."

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he’ll see.”

The group chat continued to explode with messages from drivers across the grid. Even Charles chimed in: "Mate, honestly, I’m just relieved I won’t have to race against you in the same car anymore."

Carlos leaned against the wall, smiling. “This is going to be fun.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, it’s going to be so much more than that.”

Later that night, the three of us found ourselves at a cozy restaurant in Monaco. We had rented out a private room to avoid the prying eyes of the press. It was one of those rare moments when we could just relax and laugh together.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, watching as Daniel devoured his meal with his usual lack of grace.

“Mate, do you ever slow down?”

Daniel grinned, food still in his mouth. “Nah, man. I race and I eat fast.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh.

“Please don’t choke. I don’t want to be responsible for rescuing your sorry ass from a steak.”

Carlos leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“You’d save him though, right?”

I laughed softly, resting my head on his shoulder. “Maybe after I finished my meal.”

Daniel pointed his fork at us, smirking. “You two, always ganging up on me. This is what happens when you’re the third wheel.”

Carlos shot him a grin. “We wouldn’t trade you for anyone.”

Daniel mock pouted. “Aw, you do care.”

The night went on, filled with jokes, teasing, and camaraderie. Daniel was more than a teammate—he was a part of this journey, and Carlos and I cherished having him along for the ride

It was mid-season, and our team was starting to find its rhythm. Carlos had been pushing hard all season, but it wasn’t until Spa that everything clicked into place. It had been a grueling weekend—rain, tricky conditions, everything that could go wrong, had—but Carlos was in his element.

I stood in the garage, holding my breath as the final laps unfolded. Carlos was in third, closing in fast on P2. My heart pounded as I watched him glide through the final corners, the roar of the crowd deafening as he crossed the line—third place, his first podium with the new team.

The garage erupted in cheers, and I found myself running towards him as he climbed out of the car, arms outstretched. He pulled off his helmet, his face flushed with triumph and adrenaline.

“You did it!” I screamed, throwing my arms around his neck, unable to hold back the tears of joy.

“We did it,” Carlos corrected, pulling me close. “This is all because of you.”

I kissed him right there, in front of the cameras, in front of the whole paddock, not caring who was watching. He had earned this moment, and nothing could ruin it.

Daniel, not one to miss out on a celebration, ran up and threw his arms around us both.

“Alright, alright, enough with the sappy stuff,” he joked, pulling us both into a massive hug. “Let’s get some champagne!”

As the three of us stood on the podium, drenched in champagne and laughter, I caught a glimpse of the Ferrari garage across the way. The looks on their faces were priceless. Regret. Confusion. They had made a mistake, and they knew it.

Carlos followed my gaze and grinned. “Think they’re sorry yet?”

“Oh, they’re definitely sorry.”

As Carlos and Daniel rose through the ranks, whispers from the Ferrari camp began to emerge. It didn’t take long for the media to catch wind of the story—Ferrari regretted their decision to drop Carlos. Badly.

It wasn’t just the whispers. The looks on their faces whenever Carlos and Daniel took podiums said it all. During one particular race weekend, we were walking through the paddock when Frédéric Vasseur passed us, his face tight with frustration.

I caught his eye and couldn’t resist a small, satisfied smile. The regret was clear—Ferrari had made a mistake, and now they were paying for it.

Later that evening, we were all lounging in the team motorhome when Daniel, ever the instigator, pulled up an article on his phone.

“Look at this—'Ferrari Facing Major Backlash After Dropping Sainz.' I mean, they basically admit they screwed up.”

Carlos glanced at the article but shrugged it off, ever humble.

“It’s in the past. I’m happy where I am.”

But I couldn’t let it go that easily.

“They’ll never live this down,” I said, sitting next to Carlos and resting my head on his shoulder. “They had you and threw it all away. Now look at them.”

Daniel chimed in, “Yeah, they’re stuck in midfield while you’re up there taking trophies.”

Carlos leaned down and kissed the top of my head softly.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing. Because this—” he gestured around the room, to me, to Daniel, and to the trophies lining the shelves, “—this is where I was meant to be.”

The 2026 season had been one for the ages. Carlos was unstoppable. With every race, he pushed harder, fought more fiercely, and after a series of podiums, he was leading the championship going into Abu Dhabi.

The final race was a nail-biter. Charles was right behind Carlos in the standings, and the pressure was immense. The entire paddock watched, breath held, as the laps ticked down. Carlos was leading, but Charles was closing in fast.

As I stood in the garage, my hands gripping the edge of the pit wall, I could hardly breathe. This was it. Everything was riding on this.

“Come on, Carlos,” I whispered under my breath, my heart pounding.

And then, as if time slowed down, Carlos crossed the finish line. First place. World Champion.

The garage exploded in cheers, and I was running before I even realized it. Carlos jumped out of the car, and I threw myself into his arms, tears streaming down my face.

“You did it!” I sobbed, my voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos grinned, pulling me into a deep kiss, the cheers of the team echoing around us.

“We did it,” he whispered against my lips. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Daniel arrived, grinning from ear to ear, and tackled us both into a hug.

“World Champion! My boy, you did it!”

Carlos laughed, pulling Daniel into the hug, our trio complete. “Couldn’t have done it without you either, cabrón.”

As the champagne sprayed and the celebrations erupted around us, I glanced over at the Ferrari garage. The regret on their faces was palpable. They had let go of a champion, and now they were watching him stand at the top of the world.

Carlos pulled me close again, kissing my forehead softly. “We showed them, didn’t we?”

I smiled, my heart full. “Yeah, we did.”

We celebrated long into the night. And as Carlos held the trophy high, I caught sight of the Ferrari garage once more. The regret on their faces was clear—they had let go of a champion, and now they were watching him stand at the top of the world.

As Carlos lifted his trophy into the air, he turned to me, a look of pure happiness on his face. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered.

I smiled up at him, my heart full. “Yeah, it is.”

[heilos]

Living Harmony AU relevant character sheets/info: Harmony aka the "Tree of Harmony" Shadow Lock Somnambula Starswirl the Bearded Stygian might be my favorite of the Pillars of Equestria and it's always made me sad that he wasn't used more in the show. So I decided to team up with my new friend Orin who's taken the time to make a bunch of amazing Pillar redesigns (same person I made this Starswirl animation rig for as a gift) that i'll be incorporating into my future animation project. The Pillars are very important characters to Harmony's story so I wanna do them justice. Listed below is some context for these sketches provided by my friend Orin and some written bits from myself. This is a Stygian who's been separated from the Pony of Shadows for some time, but is now dealing with the consequences of dark magic. I've had so much fun throwing ideas back and forth for this AU and I can't wait to share more in the near future.

Unicorn from a small sea side village in ancient times

Dedicated scholar and battle strategist

Special talent is writing. An incredible wordsmith in his own right

Wrote a very popular autobiography about his time possessed by the Pony of Shadows called “Me and My Shadow” (his third novel)

Name means "dark and gloomy" and also relates to the river and deity "Styx" of Greek mythology

Brought the Pillars of Equestria together in a bid to save his home town from the Sirens (the Dazzlings)

Wanted to become a hero in his own right even though he tried to convince himself otherwise

Lacks the physical strength and magical prowess of his fellow Pillars. Compared to any other run of the mill unicorn, however, Stygian is actually decently above average in terms of magical ability, though he downplays himself significantly

Ousted from the group after a misunderstanding involving him taking the other pillar’s relics to make copies of them so he too could be a hero and join them as an equal. His friends thought he was out to steal their power instead

Becomes bitter and seeks revenge afterwards when discovering the Well of Shade, which leads to the Pony of Shadows claiming him as its vessel

Banished along with the pillars to “limbo” for 1000 years through a powerful spell conceived by Starswirl and planned out by the rest of the pillars

Is freed from the Pony of Shadows' influence in modern Equestria thanks to the Mane 6 and the pillars with Twilight and Starlight being the main catalyst in helping Stygian where Starswirl had failed before

While no longer claimed by the Pony of Shadows, the consequences of using such powerful dark magic as well as being possessed by a being of pure shadow left its mark on him

Has dark magic scarring visible on his body. His eyes, inner mouth, teeth and magic color are permanently altered in appearance. It gives him a rather unsettling aura, much to his displeasure

The Pony of Shadows mark is not so easily purged, even with the combined strength of the past and present Elements of Harmony. A fragment of the shadow lives on in Stygian, inextricably bound to him, but small enough that it can no longer influence him.

Has abilities superficially similar to King Sombra's, albeit on a much smaller scale, and needs extensive practice before he can comfortably wield this new strength.

Luna becomes Stygian's second mentor, after Starswirl, to help him gain control over his new abilities. Her direct experience using dark magic to become Nightmare Moon makes her an effective teacher

As Stygian exerts better control over the shadow fragment, he eventually gains the ability to "Shadow Walk" or travel between shadows. This temporary form makes him look eerily similar to the Pony of Shadows. Pretty spooky

Can tell when the Pony of Shadows is close in proximity due to the shadow fragment, like a magic tracker

Stygian is a lucid dreamer. He appreciates dreams a lot more now that he’s sleeping on a proper schedule. Once in a while he’ll meet up with Princess Luna in the dream realm when they can’t find spare time in the waking world, outside of mentoring sessions, to enjoy each other's company as friends

Stygian redesign by Orin331

[fawnforgold]

| Sunshine and Rain |

Albedo x Afab!Reader | Minors do not interact

Warnings: Smut, Reader has a vagina, No pronouns for reader, No mention of breasts, Semi-Public sex (sorta kinda), Messy sex, Lots of cum, Wrote this in tumblr drafts yeehaw.

Summary: You and Albedo have been going at it for a while and still you can’t bring yourselves to stop.

You couldn’t remember how you got yourself in the position you’re currently in. Your body is sticking to his like glue, and his hips continue to roll, thrusting his cock inside of you over and over again. At the moment your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs tangled ‘round his hips, keeping him locked in place as he fucks his cum back into you. How many rounds had it been? Five? Six? God, you weren’t sure anymore. You’d lost count after the last few times he made you curl your toes in pleasure.

Your back is pressed up against the glass of your bedroom window. Anyone walking past could see exactly what you two were up to but neither of you cared, too focused on the sensations of each other’s body to even bother hiding your excitement. Sweat drips down Albedo’s neck as he envelopes you in a passionate kiss, moaning and stilling his hips as he nestles himself deep within your walls.

With a whimper you tangle your hands in his pretty blonde hair and pull him close, until your lips finally let go with a wet pop.

“Albedo.” You moan just seconds before hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

He doesn’t say anything or smile. Instead, Albedo forces your legs against your chest even as they’re already lifted up, and starts to fuck you against the window. You’re in the perfect position and that only turns him on more.

Whimpering you hold onto him tightly, clinging to him as his tip presses into your sweet spot over and over and over again. The euphoria you feel is almost unbearable, suffocating you with every moan you let slip past your lips.

Albedo lets out a broken groan, tightening his grip on you while his cum spills out of your cunt. Suddenly his thrusts become erratic as he fucks you harder. Albedo curves his hand underneath your jaw and whimpers as he mashes his lips against yours.

“Don’t stop.” You whisper. “I’m so close.”

Albedo’s hips snap against you as he fucks you as fast as he can. Cum drips down his shaft but is quickly forced back inside of you. The sound of skin slapping can be heard throughout the room, a noise that only pushes you closer to the edge all while Albedo holds you as if he’s scared you’ll fall at any moment.

He begins to pant, his chest pressed firmly against yours while you both slip your tongues in each other’s mouths. Tasting his spit it’s bitter yet warm, comforting you through the intense pleasure wrecking your body. You can feel his heart beat inside his chest and it causes your own to race. Neither of you want to stop, and there’s even a possibility that you simply can’t.

“I’m gonna-ahh!” You press your forehead against his.

Your breathing heavily as you feel that electrifying sensation travel up your spine. Throwing your head back as your high crashes into you, you let out a broken moan while digging your nails into Albedo’s damp skin.

“I’m close.” Albedo confesses while holding you in place, using your body solely for his own pleasure at this point.

It’s not even a minute after his confession that Albedo finally experiences that release. His hips shake as he delivers the last few thrusts inside your warm cunt, wrapping his arms around your waist as his head hides in your chest. You’re warm, so incredibly warm, and he’s practically nestling inside you at this point. Even after his orgasm calms down he still clings to you, rolling his hips lazily against you.

For a moment you try to pull away to look at him, urge him to take a shower with you, but he only holds onto you tighter. It’s when he looks up at you that you realize his eyes are still glazed over with lustful desire.

“No.” He says breathlessly. “I want more.”

[tired-biscuit]

Fwb with yuuji who has always been your pretty sunshine kind gentle best friend. You expect the same care and silliness as he fucks you into the mattress and boy do you get it. But you also get incredibly skillful hands, lithe rough fingers curving perfectly inside you, unexpected bites in the curve of your shoulder, some mumbling about how pretty you look with his marks all over. You've never seen him like this, so beautiful and wet and flushed and high on you

18+ MDNI, fem!reader

divider credits: @/benkeibear

i think he goes out for a couple of drinks with some of his mates and then shows up at your doorstep, visibly tipsy and with that insufferably pretty smile on his face that immediately persuades you to invite him in.

despite being under the influence of alcohol, he’s still respectful. he places his sneakers next to your own as neatly as he’s able after he kicks them off in the hallway and watches you with blurry eyes as you step in front of him to unzip his winter jacket.

he snickers — boyishly so — when your hands touch his shoulders so that you can undress him, and doesn’t really provide a reason as to why he’s wound up at your place in the middle of the night. always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, he just tells you that he’s missed his girl, that’s all.

his cheeks are flushed pink as he calls you his. if it’s from the booze or from the chill outside, you’re unsure. so when you reach out to touch his face, he perks up and leans into it instead; kind of like a little kitty cat would rub against the hand of its owner.

he kisses the inside of your palm. your wrist. he’s so touchy when he’s buzzed and your skin smells nice, he notes, kind of like you’ve just showered. is that the reason why your hair is damp and you’ve got nothing else on but one of his t-shirts that you stole from him years ago; back when things weren’t as complicated between you and you were just friends, minus the benefits? probably.

you lean into him when his cold lips touch your skin, on instinct or because your heart tells you to do so — maybe both. he’s cold because the winter outside is harsh at this time of year, and because he had to stand in line to get you the pastry you like from the 24/7 bakery across the street, but now he’s growing warm fast, all over actually.

oh shit, the pastry!

“i got you a lil’ something,” he mumbles, speech slurred and easy-going as he’s reaching for his jacket so that he can rummage for the paper bag he’s about 85% percent sure he’d stuffed in his pocket after leaving the bakery.

however before he can, you’re on him. you kiss him gently out of gratitude for coming over not just for sex and because of the plain affection you hold for him, but he doesn’t expect it, so his back ends up pressing against the door with a soft thud.

they’re slow, the kisses. every minute of it feels like a millennium and you wouldn’t have it any other way. your tongue glides across his front teeth in that laggard way that heats his blood to higher temperatures, urging him to open his mouth wider. so he does, letting you taste the liquor.

it’s bitter but also kind of sweet — he must have taken a bite out of that ‘little something’ that he’s bought for you, it seems. nevertheless, saliva gets exchanged, your hands start to roam over his chest. his heart beats so fast during the entirety of it that it makes him groan into your mouth in a way that tickles your lips with the vibration the sound provokes.

your breathing grows quicker, meanwhile he’s already panting. he’s clumsy, his back is slightly hunched as he reaches down to grab the hem of your shirt and tries to tug it up so that he can touch naked skin instead. the bulge in his pants has become so prominent by now — it keeps pressing against your thigh whenever he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer.

“sorry, you’re just so—” he trails off, biting back a rather pathetic whimper when your hand wraps around the ridge of his cock. it twitches instantly under your touch, though only he can tell because of the denim that’s in the way. “you make me feel so… hot.”

his forehead is covered with a thin film of sweat as he rests it against your own. poor guy, he gets worked up so fast.

it’s the reason why you can barely contain the smile that’s tugging the corners of your lips upwards as you murmur, “you make me feel really hot, too, yuuji.”

it’s the truth. you’re feeling the heat in your tummy, feeling your panties sticking to your pussy because of the warm wetness steadily gathering there. your pulse is pounding in your ears with thrill.

and how couldn’t it? you’re still fairly new to this entire friends with benefits thing; every time you get down to business, it’s like an entire new world has opened for the both of you. you’ve known him for years, sure, but when the clothes come off, you’ve still got so much to learn about each other.

and it shows. as you look up at him, you realise that there is an entirely new side of your best friend staring back at you through hooded eyes and too-big pupils.

yuuji is needy, open, vulnerable. horny enough to fuck you on the floor in the middle of your hallway if you as much as said the word, but so caring that he’ll wait until morning if you’d rather have him be sober for it.

though judging by the way how your fingers are unbuckling his belt now, he guesses it’ll be the former.

[lmskitty]

The JJk fandom has some INCREDIBLE writers and artists and I just felt like showing a bit of love so here are some of my fave Satosugu fics!!!

Audience by @c-valentino

"Three years after the KFC breakup, Satoru caves and visits his old friend late at night with a problem. They are far from what they used to be, but when he hopes they might get a second chance after all, assassins show up to hunt down Suguru."

As you like it by planetarypedxng

"Ieiri Shoko has laid down the law: the three of them will hereafter hang out only at Geto’s place, because Geto is the perfect host, and because Shoko refuses to clean up after anyone, least of all men, and because Gojo’s room always disgustingly reeks of sex.

Gojo had laughed at that, a little too loudly, perhaps, and curiously did not have a single comment about it. What can he say? The truth? That he was still a virgin?"

Falling in love is easy. Admitting it is not. By @ellionwrites

"At 20 years old - sharing an apartment and joint Jujutsu missions - Geto and Gojo are inseparable. But it takes Geto going on a first date for them to start to figure out their feelings."

Two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

"Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive.

That’s how they got here.

Love is in the hands by @thequeenofsarcaasm

That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this."

To be a woman by @sadgreekboys

"After getting kicked from his home for being queer, Geto Suguru comes across his old best friend/first love, in a gay bar. He finds a new home in him."

close your eyes (nothing changed at all) by themoonisdead

"Satoru is the strongest. She is a woman. She is not meant to be those two things at the same time.

VIRGIN GETS WRECKED BY BEST FRIEND [FREE PORN VIDS] (18++) WATCH NOW!!!!! By Daisy__dupes

"That day in xx village, suguru makes a call" -what if Suguru had called Satoru for help that day?

Over the Threshold by @fushiglow

(Satoru gets hit with a sex curse and asks Suguru to help him!!!)

4AM by damiselart

"Larger than life K-pop idol, Satoru, approaches introverted record producer, Getō Suguru, to collaborate on his debut Japanese-language studio album. They both get more out of the experience than expected — for better and for worse."

(Tattoo artist Geto and model Gojo. Hot as fuck.)

Post-It Notes by monochromevelyn

"Shoko was sick of watching her two best friends pining for each other. Don't worry, she had a plan to move things in the right direction."

The Two-Headed Calf by malneiro

"Gojo gets a knock on his door late at night: Getou is sick and Mimiko and Nanako don't know who else to turn to."

Vows to Amida Butsu -

" Gojo has a great idea. Geto thinks his classmate should at least ask him cutely instead of just announcing his intent. Consent is important, after all."

and Long Bitter Autumn - both by Daphnerunning and Galiko

"Five years after his best friend left Jujutsu High to become an evil overlord, Gojo Satoru can't sleep. And there's not THAT much difference between a butt dial and a booty call, semantically speaking."

There are so many amazing satosugu fics and most of the writers listed here have multiple incredible fics but these are just some of my absolute faves!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[lizzybeeee]

DATV Spoilers - The Handling of Previous Story/Lore In DATV

Quick PSA: If you’ve read my post on the lore/story threads dropped – it’s not a list of what I expected or even wanted to see addressed/answered in DATV.

It’s pretty much a given that Kieran and the Architect were never going to come back in any meaningful way, I understand that. Questions about what happened to Anora, Anders, Cullen’s clinic etc...never expected to get an answer about them – at all. The line of succession in Ferelden and Orlais? I expected that sometime down the line it would have to be streamlined into one option for both nations, not a problem – there’s so many choices it’s impossible to account for, and I understand that.

This is just a list of plot threads left unanswered that will, most likely, remain unanswered.

There’s no DLC planned – the team is working on Mass Effect 5 now. There’s no conclusion to the fate of the south of Thedas outside of some codex entries and some dialogue. They can patch the Executors cutscene out, maybe - perhaps they could even do the same to anything relating to the south of Thedas. Yes, these areas were not completely destroyed by the Blight – they can rebuild – but it comes across as being so meaningless that I ever cared for these places in the first place. To learn that after ten years of waiting all we cared for get devastated and left in limbo...it’s hard to put into words the bitterness I felt at that realization, and seeing that final cut-scene drove the nail into the coffin of how foolish I felt for even caring in the first place.

A codex entry or letter would have been nice – but my expectations for DATV was solely for a good story that added to the lore and world of Thedas. Instead, it felt entirely reductive – glaringly so when you account for the ‘Executives’ twist.

The world of Thedas has been watered down and its worldbuilding/lore diminished - slavery in Tevinter is non-existent, the Crows being an organization that indoctrinated children is never touched upon, any mystery of ancient Tevinter and the elves is answered (badly!), the Dalish have effectively disappeared and become the Veil Jumpers...it all feels so hollow, so shallow, that I ever cared about these things in the first place.

The issue is that the dev’s gave us only three choices, told us that as the story was contained to the north of Thedas – that our other choices weren’t relevant to the rest of the game with their intent being to not effect anyone's head-canons...before doing so with ‘the blight has devastated most of everywhere you went previously’.

These were story/plot threads that were woven throughout the narrative of the first three games – the things that made me care and become invested in the world of Thedas to begin with. In a game that was set-up to be a direct sequel to Inquisition and Trespasser I hoped that, at least, what was brought up in Inquisition would be mentioned.

Perhaps my list is a little too detailed with plot threads and issues – if anything that can be attributed to the incredible world-building done in the first three games! I love those games, I love the world of Thedas...which is why this game utterly baffles me with its choices.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game but not a good Dragon Age game.

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

Edit: DATV absolutely has a lot of problems outside of its handling of the lore and story of the previous games. I would not say its a good rpg in any sense, but as a weird 'action-adventure rpg lite' game I did have some fun moments and enjoy myself. Would I recommend it to anyone? Absolutely not.

I heard someone describe it as a 'junk food' game and I very much agree with that statement. I found enjoyment in it, but to do so I usually had to turn off my brain, which is not a compliment towards DATV.

The game released very well optimized (especially considering how most companies are content to release half-baked games and patch them later) and did create some really interesting visual set-pieces like the Battle of Weisshaupt. But those moments I enjoyed were few and far between, and far overwhelmed by the negatives of the game - such as story, lack of conversation/conflict/role-play options, bad character writing etc...

Calling the game 'good' is, perhaps, a stretch, and I totally get that. Calling it 'mediocre with some good parts' may be more accurate.

[senseofnewness]

what are your own like personal headcanons about art donaldson!!! i love hearing about silly thoughts people have <333 (i love your writing btw!!)

(thank you bby <3)

random art donaldson headcanons

• at 31 years old, art donaldson still can't grow a full mustache. it's as if god took all the body hairs meant for him and gave them to patrick zweig instead.

• art wears tom ford’s azure lime, a fragrance that is fresh and crisp, with none of the heavy muskiness you might expect. some might say it smells a bit feminine, but it suits him well, at least, it always smells clean.

• he named his daughter lily after his grandmother, liliane. although she didn't raise him, they shared a special bond. it was liliane who introduced him to tennis.

• he is a secret fan of the lord of the rings and occasionally quotes gollum, much to tashi’s annoyance, who rolls her eyes at the nerdy side of her husband.

• his favorite food is lasagna, but not the kind you'd expect. he doesn't crave the gourmet freshly made lasagna his personal chef prepares. what he really loves is the store-brand frozen lasagna, the kind that comes in a box and is microwaved. tashi only allows him to eat it on his birthday.

• out of all his body parts, hands are probably his favorite. which is why he finds holding hands to be one of the most intimate gestures. he prefers sturdy hands with slender fingers and manicured nails.

• art had never blocked patrick’s number all those years, just so he could one day say "the phone works both ways" if patrick ever tried to blame him for their falling out.

• he has an irrational fear of spiders. if he spots one in a room, he cannot bring himself to sleep in there, even if tashi has killed the spider for him. in his mind, the spider’s family might be plotting revenge, and that thought is enough to keep him awake at night.

• art donaldson hates the taste of coffee, no matter how many times he had tried to like it in an effort to appear more mature. to him, it always tastes like straight-up dirt. he prefers to stick with vanilla milk.

• he has tried the curly girl method countless times, hoping to restore the curly texture his hair once had as a teenager. despite his efforts and the many products he has tried, his hair remains persistently straight.

• art chews his nails when nervous. and he will chew on anything else he can get a grip on as well. tashi tries to break this habit by painting his nails with bitter nail polish but it doesn't stop him from biting them, it just tastes like shit now.

• art rarely swears or gets angry, but when he does, tashi knows he will spend the entire day brooding. it's all about muttered complaints and scowls. the only thing that typically soothes him is a warm bath.

• when lily was born, art sobbed so loudly that the nurses had to ask him to quiet down to avoid disturbing the other babies in the hospital wing. tashi was so mortified that she pretended not to know him.

[nsfw]

• he wears those tiny underwears because he doesn't feel supported in anything else. he needs his pink fuzzy balls to be secured on the court. a lesson he learned the hard way. when he was fifteen, one of his balls slipped through the leg of his loose boxers during a match, and patrick teased him about it for months. ever since that day, he has sworn off boxers entirely.

• when patrick taught art how to jerk off, art waited for patrick to be asleep to look closely at the sock patrick had used. he studied the slimy stains, comparing the cum to his own, just to make sure everything was normal with him.

• he isn’t a fan of quickies. he prefers to take his time with tashi, believing that making love is about enjoying every moment and taking the time to bring her to the edge. to him, it’s not really making love if she doesn’t climax too. however, there are times when he becomes so horny after a particularly intense practice session, where tashi had pushed him harder than usual, that a quickie becomes necessary.

• he has incredibly sensitive nipples and gets easily aroused when they’re touched or teased. when tashi wants to make him shut up during an argument, she just pinches them and he starts whimpering.

• sometimes he can't help but think about the fact that patrick had been with tashi before him, and it turns him on. the thought of them together becomes a driving force, turning into a personal competition. he feels the need to prove to tashi that he is the best sex she will ever have.

• tashi used threats of her strap-on as a way to motivate him during his matches, but now, instead of fear, it has become a source of excitement. art knows that each victory means tashi is waiting for him at home with her silicone cock, ready to celebrate.