#and it galls me to just leave it like that

[shivunin]

🤡⛔💞💔

Hey, thank you very much for asking! 💗This wound up a touch long haha

(Writer Asks)

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

I have several and they're all really long. The one I still want to try to revamp/use the concept of is one about a Thedas where Halamshiral was never lost to the Chantry. It had some really, really lovely parts but it required so much worldbuilding that it eventually stopped being fun to write.

(Also a 1930s AU set between 2 and Inquisition where Lavellan is a reporter and Cullen is trying to figure out how to leave the Templars, a "how Elowen handles breaking up with Solas" AU, and a mermaid!Cullen AU I still mean to get back to someday)

💞 Who's your comfort character?

Cullen! I write him whenever I'm feeling down. I think I might have all of the romance dialogue memorized at this point lol

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I answered this here, but I've got plenty haha. From "The Punchline" (here on Tumblr, here on AO3):

Afterward, Fenris could not say if she lifted her head or if he bent his to her. Afterward, he could only remember the ache in his chest, the wine on her breath, the awful laughter still trailing from her lips.  When they kissed, it tasted of salt and tannins and fresh blood.  It felt fitting, in its way. If this was to cut him to the bone, it should taste like a wounded thing. The kiss was nothing like the first had been. There was nothing of heady joy to this, no thick anticipation, no persistent hope. There was only the ache of regret—that he had found himself here at all, alone with her in the heaviness of night when he would never be able to give her what she needed. 

The kiss lasted only a moment; Maria pulled away almost as soon as they touched. Her eyes searched his. IIf he’d wanted to, he was close enough to count every dark spot scattered over her irises, every freckle on her nose. Too close. Too close by far.  “There,” she said quietly. “You see? That proves it. I only destroy everything I love, after all. You must be safe, then. Can still get away if you’re quick.” 

Fenris and Hawke and those awful months after the Act 2 romance scene get me every time tbh.

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Oh god, this whole thing lol. They're so awkward with each other and both trying so hard to be casual. Here's my favorite bit:

They both stopped, Cullen chuckling uncomfortably and Elowen releasing a panicked wheeze that might, to someone panicking, have sounded like a laugh.  Sylaise’enaste, she had to get out of here before she did something dire. Like drag him across the desk to find out if his mouth tasted as good as it looked. Do not say that out loud, she willed herself.  “I will see you later,” she said.  “Thank you,” Cullen said with relief. His eyes widened and he shook his head.  “No! I mean—not thank you. Yes, I’ll—I will see you there.” “Yes, see you later,” she said, belatedly remembering that she’d already said that.  Cullen opened his mouth and closed it again.  Why did his mouth have to look so kissable?  Why hadn’t she kissed him last night, when there’d been no one else around and they’d been covered in his mantle? It had been—it had been romantic, even, so close to each other like that. “Right,” she said, sharply enough that his head jerked back, “Later.” “...yes,” he said, but Elowen was already jogging for the door before she could think about why he sounded so faint.  The door shut behind her with a squeal and a bang. Elowen leaned back against it, arms spread slightly, and peered up at the puffy white clouds in the sky.  “I am doomed,” she told them, with all the gravitas of one who’d been condemned to death. 

[husbants]

exhausted of existing ✌️

[ssaalexblake]

How would you respond to claims that 13's run feels a bit dodgy by having a cop travel with them?

You know, the other day while generally browsing the internet I happened across somebody complaining about this war movie. They were angry it was glorifying soldiers. Were anti-military themselves in general. You know what I mean. The thing is, though, the literature course I did in school had an entire unit and exam on war literature and I've read the book upon which the movie was based on and it has stuck with me as an incredible critique of war, conscription and the military by portraying those things in fiction. I would never pick it up again, not because it was bad, but because it was rough to 17yo me, but I am happy I've read it and other pieces of literature like it. I am happy I was taught to analyse and contextualise media with a serious subject such as that.

Now, this isn't the exact same thing as this. The BBC would legit never allow their lead children's show to Explicitly portray any acab message, like, ever, lets be true to reality here. But also, I genuinely think there is a fair amount of that puritanical black and white thinking going on here on the riff of Yaz working for the police being an immediate strike against the show because people think that portraying something is automatically lauding it because uh, the content of the story does Not track with the idea they're saying cop work is good work.

I have seen (on this site and many others) people say over and over again the only good cops are either dead or have quit bc they realised it was a crock of shit. In which case, the question becomes;

Did y'all miss the part where Yaz quit?

Yaz is not a cop anymore. Yaz quit. Yaz is portrayed as thinking it's frustrating bc because the helping people thing she was supposed to be doing isn't happening and we're shown this from literally the get go, her very first scene, and from there is only seen as trying A) to get work where she's actually helping somebody and totally failing to get it and B) straight up trying to get out of going to work by actually forging paperwork. S/O to her for that bit of illegality btw. Love that for her. She does not end the series employed by the police. Yaz found an actual way to help people and chose to do That instead.

Yaz's career arc is 'disillusioned teen signs up to be cop, realises it's bullshit and there are actual ways to help people and quits to go do that instead' which is, if i'm not mistaken, what we want actual real life cops to realise about their life choices.

I get it's a tetchy subject bc acab, i agree, and I get and agree and wish that this stuff could be more explicitly portrayed as well bc i'm sick of media or execs being too cowardly to be bold about messaging, but the insinuation that this portrayed the cops as systematically helpful or useful by having Yaz start out as a cop? No. Would I have liked it to be more explicit? Well yes, duh, but I cannot emphasise how that was literally never gonna happen. I can however emphasise how ideas like Yaz, whose main goal is to help, quitting being a cop bc she wasn't helping anybody beamed into impressionable young minds do, in fact, take root though.

Like, having a plucky teen hero character go through an arc of helping people and them Ending a cop to carry on the good work is Vastly different to a plucky teen starting out a cop bc they think that's how they get to help people then quitting bc they realised that's not true. One of these things is pro cop, the other is not.

I also hasten to mention again that there is a genuine conversation here abt the dodgy-ness cops being used in mental health emergencies. I wrote this out about it [Here].

On a personal note on this score, I, much like Sonya have been forced to deal with cops throughout somebody else's mental health emergency when I never should have had to and it fucking sucked. What an unempathetic bunch of rats who clearly haven't even done a google search's worth of research on how to discuss these things, let alone give it the gravity it deserves. That my choices were either cops or somebody dying is a travesty. And maybe this story speaks to me more personally as somebody who has had this experience and wants to throw hands over it still over a decade later, but that lady did not help Yaz, Yaz helped herself after a measly pep talk and the woman obviously never bothered to keep tabs and see if Yaz was okay afterwards either. Ryan helped his mate. Graham spreads good mental health advice that benefits others. The hospital in Syria was dealing in mental heath care by professionals of the time. Cop lady convinced Yaz to go home, succeeded, and Yaz gave her the credit when it was Her who dug herself out of that pit and not anybody else.

Like, genuinely this whole thing sets me off angry. And I could critique the execution if I wanted to but the bottom line is i've not actually seen anything else even go slightly Near where this plot went and I genuinely think it was something that should be said. As I said, a decade later and I still want to throw hands.

So basically like, I get the discomfort, I do, I get not wanting to see it as well, but Yaz grew OUT of this. Not the other way around. Portrayal is not endorsement. I do not personally find this era difficult to parse but people seem either unwilling or unable to do so on literally every theme addressed in it, but I am just back to being that 17yo in an english lit class being taught how to examine things through the vehicle of anti-war stories, ones that people are actually nowadays mad at for glorifying war just because they portray it when this couldn't be farther from the truth, and I cannot help but relate the situations a bit.

I mean, I don't think it's a 10/10 and I would tweak, but I am aware you won't be finding anything as bold as blatant acab on dw in this geopolitical climate and since that's endemic literally everywhere i'm not gonna single out This show for it when at least its trying (watching classic who and the things they just openly say and portray is soooooo eye opening. TV of the 21st century has no spine in general.) But the portrayal of something does not imply that said thing is positive. If real cops ditching the badge on principle is a good thing that we want to continue, I fail to see how fake ones portraying that said same thing is bad.

[main-character-moment]

Just back from pride and there was a concert and some lovely performances (unfortunately there were many I couldn’t stick around for)

But as the opening act was doing the final song, a group of Palestinian protesters barrelled up onto stage with their banners, and while all the performers held their own well for the most part and were able to finish the performance, it still knocked everyone off balance.

They then stayed onstage and interrupted the next segment to talk about Palestine and how it’s a genocide. How many of the organisations funding pride this year were supporting Israel. And while I know that’s so important and needs to be talked about, it made everyone uncomfortable. No one forgot Palestine at the parade! As far as I could see (considering I missed some of it), nearly all of the groups and floats marching had at least one Palestine flag, and many were chanting and had banners supporting Palestine. There was a lot of support for Ukraine as well, which no one is talking about as much (as far as I’ve seen) since it’s been overshadowed.

It was lashing rain. Everyone was soaked and there was little shelter or seating available, and it was taking a lot from people to stay at the celebrations in th weather, and the mood immediately dropped.

If it wasn’t for the amazing drag king who came on after they were finally ushered off giving an inspiring impromptu speech about the topic and tying it back to pride, I don’t think the choir that came on after would’ve been able to recover the mood on their own.

[cainite-bite]

i love when dumbasses are like “we should ban transitions because what if/this one person regretted doing it” because like..... I regretted my gallbladder surgery to get it removed- should I advocate to have it banned so no one else can have it done? I have known 7 people who have regretted surgery for a knee, should we just say because those 7 regretted it (and there are plenty more out there) that we shouldnt allow anyone access to it?

[iowafashionweekbegins]

the fact that someone from seven whole years ago still terrorizes my brain is. it's something. i guess being accused by an 18-19 year old of being a proshipper and abuser multiple times when i was 15 actually did legitimate, long-term, traumatizing psychological damage to me (the night everything went down i hallucinated a full-blown, crystal-clear, terrifying face in the dark, due to the stress). who woulda thought. i don't know. i can't stop thinking about this situation from 2018 and i still just feel this awful fear like i can't escape this. image of myself. that is in people's heads. an image that i'm very different from nowadays. its funny in a bitter kind of way how different i am now, meanwhile last time i checked on this person ey're still doing this exact same thing to other people, just on a smaller scale. i want to heal from this already but my OCD will not let me. i'm stuck in it forever, it seems.

[ashersbraincell]

You know, it is horrifically ironic, almost funny if it wasn’t so sad, how, despite all my intrusive thoughts and compulsions about always making sure to say goodbye to my loved ones incase something bad happened when I was away/asleep I never DID get to say goodbye to my dog.

She still passed away in the night and because of circumstances I don’t want to talk about because it’s complicated and generally just fucked asf I just.

Didn’t get to say goodbye.

At all.

Isn’t that fucked up?

[monicaalexandraaa]

I’ll never be over these twoooooooo. This story has my whole heart🩷🩷

Most Extra II

Read Most here | ~2.8k words

Warnings: angsty and a little fluffy

Summary: Harry hates Lauren and doesn't know how to convince her that she should too.

Harry was speeding. Beeping like an obnoxious driver in their little town where anyone who looked over would know it was Harry. But he was terrified. Truly terrified of whatever Lauren would or could say to her.

How dare she. After Harry was kind enough to not tell his sweet angel about her horrible ex-friend. He didn’t tell anyone. Not even Sarah (although he knew she suspected more than anyone). He didn't ruin her reputation for being a horrible person. All she had to do was quietly ignore her and leave them the hell alone for the rest of their lives.

But Harry got a text from Louis saying he and Eleanor were heading out and they were insistent, but she refused to go with them. The kind, stubborn lady she was. Instead, she was going to make sure Lauren got home safely.

Harry hated Lauren. Preying upon her sweet kindness once more. Harry knew from experience it was difficult (next to impossible) to convince her Eleanor and Louis would be happy to stay with her. He could hear her saying that it was late, and she didn’t mind waiting. She was going to be up until Harry got home anyway. Arguing with her was futile,

Harry pressed her contact again wanting to scream when it went to voicemail again.

What if it was too late?

What if Lauren was telling her she wasn’t enough again, and that Harry deserved more? His heart was in his throat, sweat dotted his hairline, and his stomach felt like it was about to reject his dinner. He hated being a firefighter. At least in that moment he hated it. It wasn’t fair he had to work odd hours and couldn’t be by her side to usher her out of the restaurant when she refused to leave her old friend.

He hated Eleanor and Louis while he was at it.

And the phone company since it was clear her phone was dead or she had already blocked him.

Plus, the traffic light that refused to turn green.

In that moment Harry hated everything that wasn’t her.

Fortunately, he had one rational brain cell still functioning in his mind. Her phone was just dead. Lauren wasn’t stupid enough to try the same thing a second time. Regardless, she had too much stuff in their house. It would be enough to slow her down from leaving in the middle of the night. It had to be. It would give him enough time to be there in case she tried to leave. He would beg. Sob. Scream. Whatever he had to do to keep her. To assure her she was enough. That she was more than enough.

Harry parked at the end of the short road. He was almost certain his door didn’t fully close and if the key was still in the ignition, he wouldn’t be surprised either. He took off sprinting up the sidewalk toward where a crowd of people were waiting to get into the restaurant for the live music and good food and dancing.

The whole lot of his friend group had gone earlier in the evening (except Harry because he was working) and everyone had left at a reasonable hour except for the three of them. She had sent him updates throughout the evening and told him that her phone appeared to not hold its charge, or she left her flashlight on again draining the battery. But she loved him, and she would text once she was home, and it was charged. At the time he didn’t mind at all. It was kind she sent such thoughtful messages to assuage any future worry when she didn’t answer. Harry wasn’t a controlling boyfriend (or he hoped he wasn’t) but the worry he felt over her ate at him frequently, and badly.

By the time his shift was ending he still didn’t have a message from her, but instead one from Louis. A voice memo muffled by the sound of a door closing. We tried to stay with her, but you know how she is. She’s just making sure Lauren gets home safe. She said she’ll Uber or get a ride home with her coworker.

Harry felt like she was in danger the same way when he scaled her apartment building. He sped, he beeped and was now running to find her. Hoping it wasn’t too late.

“Harry?” her sweet voice interrupted his nightmare of her leaving again. He skidded to a stop and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Lauren hanging onto her just like she used to when she drank too much. "Are you okay, baby?" She asked her eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

He swallowed the emotion in his throat at the word baby. She was there. She was safe. She didn't sound like she was leaving. "Yeah," he shook his head. "I uh..." he bit his lip.

"My... my phone did die."

Lauren avoided Harry's gaze, which was easy enough for her because she looked like she was about to throw up so she was probably actively focusing on that. "What are you...?" He started then shook his head.

"Lauren's other friend is coming to pick her up. She was insistent. I even offered to Uber home with her. But she's not doing so well," she frowned. "Lo, you still with me?" She asked.

The girl he hated, really truly hated, nodded once. Harry wanted to scream still. "Her phone is likely in her friend's car, otherwise I would have called you. You didn't need to rush down. Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He nodded trying to keep any semblance of cool and collected he had etched on his face. But it was nearly impossible. "M'fine. Jus’ got worried..." he rubbed the back of his head. "Where's her friend?" Harry wanted out of this nightmare and away from Lauren as soon as possible. But even though he hated her, he didn’t want something to happen to her because she was drunk and unable to stand on her own.

"She’ll be here any minute. She was ten minutes out ten minutes ago when we called from the bar."

"Do y’need t’go back in?"

She shook her head. "I told Eleanor and Louis I would just Uber or catch a ride with Lo," she explained. "Lo, you doing okay?" She stroked her hair from her face softly. Like the sweet best friend she always was way back when. "Poor thing," she frowned as Lauren nodded once more. “You got out a little early? I thought I was going to beat you home still.”

Harry didn’t want to tell her that he basically told the squad he was feeling sick, maybe it was food poisoning, and he wanted to be in the comfort of his own home when that happened.

Harry still felt nauseous anyway. Maybe he would throw up when they got home. All that anxiety and frustration. At least it seemed that Lauren was unable to speak. Unable to say anything to cause doubt or ruin his life all over again.

"Can I take y'home?" He asked.

She giggled. It was such a musical, magical sound. It made some of the worry release from the grip around his heart and throat. His shoulders untensed. She was so cute, and he loved her so much. Even when he was anxious, it was enough to settle him some. That sweet smile, her kind eyes, and that beautiful giggle. "I would hope so," she bit her lip. "Unless you want me to Uber home."

Harry wanted to handcuff her to his side. But he thought driving her home would be sufficient.

For now.

*

The second he closed the front door, Harry pressed his body flat against it, caging her against the door and his chest. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She wrapped her arms around his waist. Barely flinching. As if he did this all the time. “Baby, you're making me nervous. Why are you so upset?”

His face was pressed to the crook of her neck like he was hiding there. Harry had a good mind to hide there and never let her go. He shook his head. “S'nothing. M'fine”

“This is not very convincing, baby,” she whispered and combed her fingers through his hair. She inhaled deeply against his head and then kissed at what she could reach which was part of his ear and some of his head. “I’m sorry about my phone. I didn’t mean to worry you—”

“Can y’do me a favor? No questions asked?” He asked into her skin.

“Harry?”

“You trust me?”

“Yes of course—"

“Don’t talk to Lauren. Ever. Please.”

"Wait," she frowned, gently pushed trying to get a look at him. But he didn’t budge. Like he didn’t want to look at her when he asked because it was too much or something. "Harry, that's kind of a weird thing to—"

"No questions, kitten. Please, M’begging,” his voice was so quiet, almost cracking as he spoke into her neck.

She pushed him away again, a little firmer this time, just far enough that she could get a good look at his face. His features pinched with anxiety. His eyes looked so sad. "Harry—"

"Baby please," he pleaded. "I won't ever ask you t’blindly trust me again ‘bout anything. Just this. Please."

Her heart felt sad. His anxiety made her feel sick. She frowned, cupped his cheek. He turned quickly and brushed his lips along her palm. Of course she trusted him. With her entire life. Blindly, all the time. He scaled a whole building to save her life. He could ask her anything and she would trust him. "Okay, okay,” she brushed her thumb along his skin hoping it would soothe the anxiety in his expression. "Whatever you say, baby." Harry pulled her back into his embrace, her face snug against his shirt. His nose bumped against her skull as he kissed the top of her hair. "I blindly trust you," she assured him, muffled by his body holding her tight. "I was just a little surprised was all."

He nodded silently. Not wanting to say anything more. He wanted Lauren to remain a nice memory for her. A friend that no longer served her purpose—someone she outgrew and nothing more. "Are you always going to hug me like this when my phone dies?" She asked. “I’m sorry I worried you so much, baby. I didn’t mean to.”

"I ordered y’a portable charger when y’told me it was dying hours ago. It’ll be here tomorrow," he murmured into her hair not letting go of her even slightly.

She giggled. Continued to hold onto him, and let Harry take whatever he was getting from this hug against the front door when there was a perfectly good couch and bed nearby. But he seemed to need this.

*

The following morning, she tapped gently against his arm. "Harry, baby?" She whispered. "I need to pee." He moaned softly. "M'sorry."

He shook his head and slid to sit up against the headboard. He rubbed his eye. "S'okay."

"I'll come right back."

"No, s'okay. We can get up," he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. He could make her breakfast or have her be his breakfast.

"Well, I want to snuggle longer," she frowned getting out of bed and putting a sweatshirt over her frame. It was too big. The static from putting it on made her hair frizz in front of her face. She didn't move it. Which only made Harry love her more. She was adorable.

"Well, I'll be here," he promised.

She hurried into the bathroom and then before Harry could fall asleep, she was back. She situated herself between his legs pressing her back against his chest and holding his hands in hers. The sleeves of her sweatshirt got in the way a bit, so Harry pushed the long sleeves up her wrists. It melted her and Harry kissed the top of her head. "Y'okay, baby?" He asked. She nodded, twisting their fingers together. Then holding his left hand and tracing his palm with no pattern in mind.

"Can you tell me why?" She asked.

"Tell you why what?"

She sighed. "I know you said no question asked. But... it has nothing to do with my trust in you. But... Sarah said something to me a few weeks ago and I don't know... I'll let it go if you really want me to. But... I'd like to know. If you can tell me... I don’t even see her anymore and honestly, I’m not sure why... but... Why can’t I talk to Lauren?"

He tilted his head up and sighed. It was unfair of him to give her a directive like that. She was an adult and could do whatever she wanted. Harry didn’t want to be controlling, and this was not the way to do it. "Okay," he took a deep breath. She was utterly patient. Waited while Harry tried to form the words. Words he didn’t want to say or relive. "Do y'remember our first date when y'got back?"

"You mean having sex in your car?"

He smiled fondly and nosed at the back of her head. He was glad she remembered such a lovely detail. "Y'said something t'me. That I deserved more than you," he squeezed her hand in his. It was a little easier to have this conversation while she wasn’t looking directly at him. It might have made him cry to relive all of it and think about what happened because of what Lauren said.

"I still think that, if I'm being honest."

Harry winced. Gently he turned her in his lap so he could look at her. "Baby," he frowned. "S'not even a little funny."

She reflected his frown with her own. "Harry...” she sighed. “Tell me what happened,” she whispered.

"I was grabbing y'a coffee after m'shift. Before the fire. Lauren said the same thing. I deserved so much more than her. S'exactly what she said and maybe if either of you used a different phrase I might not have noticed. But... y'didn't get there on your own, kitten, did you? I adored you and m'confident y'knew that. So she did it, didn't she? She told you that y'weren't enough," he swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "She made y'feel like y'weren't enough for me."

"Harry," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Stop, I'm here."

"But you weren't. I felt so alone and sad and kitten, it wasn't fair."

She winced. "I know."

"I hate Lauren."

"Harry," she brought a hand to his cheek and ran her thumb over his cheek, rough with the scruffy starting of a beard (or whatever he chose to call what grew on his baby face. "I'm the one that listened. I'm the one that left."

"But she knew y'would do that. She knew y'loved me so much y'would go because I think I would have done the same thing... I want you t'have everything. Even if that means I don't have you."

She looked down at his chest, terrified to make eye contact. "I know," she whispered.

"I'll never forgive her," Harry promised. "For making y'feel like less. For making y'feel like y'didn't deserve love and t'be happy. For making y'think I would ever stop loving you," he pressed his mouth over hers. A tear rolled down her cheek and got caught in the kiss. Harry pulled away and swiped at it with his finger. "You're my favorite person, kitten."

"You're mine," she breathed. "I'm sorry I listened to her."

"Y'thought it was the right thing t'do. I don't fault y'for that. I wish y'told me; that will always make me sad that y'didn't want t'tell me," his voice ached with longing.

"If I told you, you wouldn't have let me leave."

A wry chuckle escaped him. "I would have had a hell of a time convincing you t'stay," a forlorn smile graced his lips.

She smiled shyly. "Yeah?"

"Probably would have kissed you 'til y'believed me. Handcuffed you t'me," he chuckled. "Or m'bed."

"I'm sure Anne would have loved that."

"She would have handcuffed you too," he rolled his eyes.

She giggled and then dropped her face to his chest. "You smell good."

"Mmm."

"I love you," she whispered. He buried his face in her hair and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, too.”

“I love you more,” she teased, and he smiled against her head. It still felt like a dream that she was in his bed and that she loved him. That she was back and all his and they would have forever.

Harry decided breakfast could wait if he could kiss her and hold her like this for a while. “I love you most.”

--

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[dotsunflowers]

.

[evadingreallife]

I feel like ive single handedly invented a new type of AITA mental crisis cause i (temporarily living alone and generally trying to mind what i eat bc of kinda-health reasons) just got super angry at my parents cause they just. keep. pushing food on me. And by that i mean for example that tonight they were having pizza and asked me if i wanted to go and take some too and i said no i dont but when we met mom gave me this whole package which i now see its appetizers+a couple of pizza slices, of which i had asked for NONE and they know fully well im trying not to eat fried/super oily foods cause SEVERE ACNE (and other stuff) and also if i have food i like in front of me i am totally unable to not eat it or not finish it. Its in MY DNA. I really cannot. AND I DIDNT WANT IT OR NEED IT. IM NOT STARVING. IM NOT EVEN WITHOUT FOOD HERE. I GOT GROCERIES FOR FUCKS SAKE. I AM JUST ON THE WRONG SIDE OF HEALTHY/OVERWEIGHT AND DAD HAS DIABETES I DO NOT WANT THIS FOR ME. WHY. DO. THEY. KEEP. PUSHING FOOD. ON ME.

Sincerely,

An exhausted daughter

Edit: the first person coming @ me saying "just accept your body something something" will get shot with extreme prejudice. This is so not about that it's not even funny

[yogfan14]

I wish all delivery customers who get mad at their drivers for not doing exactly as they hoped a very just never order online, ever.

[traumagenica]

.

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

You always try so hard to hide when something's bothering you. You're so careful not to let your phone unlocked and out in the open, you try not to let your eyes unfocus as you think about whatever's bothering you; you work so hard to keep being productive despite your sorrows.

But they know you better than yourself, doll.

They see how your shoulders tense up whenever you leave Price's office and how you're always so wary of your surroundings, looking this and that way, waiting behind walls to avoid certain people. You can't hide your fears from them. Not from them. Not from the ones who were placed in this godforsaken world to protect you no matter what.

Figuring things out is easy. There's a reason they're a special task force. Swooping your phone from you is as easy as stealing candy from a little kid, and so is unlocking your phone (you need to be more careful about your passwords, love. Really? Your childhood's dog birthday? That's like basic information for them).

And when you come back to the room, flustered, fretting over your phone, it's there: on Price's desk, as if it was untouched. They hide the anger caused by their discoveries behind clenched jaws and hardened eyes and wait until you leave to begin discussing their plan of action (it's cute how you still look at each one of them to make sure they didn't see a thing).

Love, why didn't you tell them? Why did they have to search through your messages to find the reason behind your sadness? Don't you trust them? They're your guard dogs, doll, why don't you just order them to maul and gnaw and rip to shreds whenever you need?

It took them breaking into your phone to find out about the Sergeant who's been messaging you. They could read the suspicion behind your words as you accused him of pranking you after he asked you out.

Pranking you? Pranking?

They read the following messages, where he admitted to his lies – it was a bet, he said. Some friends had bet a good amount of money that he wouldn't be courageous enough to ask you out and then stand you up. He then had the gall to thank you for believing his words and going to the date. For dressing up "weirdly" and being delusional enough to think someone like him would be interested in you.

"just an advice: putting lipstick on a pig doesn't work lmao thanks for guaranteeing me the money tho" he had said.

Seeing red wasn't enough to describe how they felt.

Soap could barely stay still. He leaned his weight on one foot and then the other, itching to run as fast as he could until he found the bastards that dared to insult his bonnie. He needed to feel their bones giving out as he punched them into a bloody pulp. He needed to scream, to let you know that you were too good for all of those scumbags, that he and his mates were the only ones who could appreciate you, touch you with the reverence and devotion that you deserved.

Gaz felt like he failed you. The sourness of his anger mingled with the bitterness of his sorrow. He swore he could taste his emotions on his tongue. He always makes sure to tell how beautiful he thinks you are, how lovely your uniqueness is to him – his little porcelain doll he wished he could place on a shelf. To think some random man managed to hurt you and disrespect you under his watch... it was unbelievable. He would spend a lifetime spoiling you until you forgot about it. After he sunk his teeth into those men throats and ripped them apart, of course.

Ghost was the other side of Soap's coin. But while the Scotsman wanted to seek and destroy as quickly as they do in action, Ghost wanted cruelty. He wanted to take it slow, deliberate. One fingernail for every tear they made you shed. One bone snapped in half for every second you suffered due to their disrespect. If it depended on him, they would only live up until the clouds that covered your sun cleared up. There would be no surrendering, no mercy. You deserve thorough revenge, lovie. And only the muzzle that Price puts on his rabid snout can hold Ghost back.

Price wondered why you didn't tell them about this... incident. Why? Are you trying to defend those poor excuses for men despite how terribly they disrespected you? No, that can't be it. You're their angel, but he knows you aren't some punching bag. Are you afraid they'd agree with those bastards? At that, Price has to laugh. You're so smart, love, but so so blind. You still can't see how they could sell their soul to you, if you became a devil. You still can't see how they'd kneel down on nails and pray to you if you became a saint. After Price pulls a few strings and manages to get that scum dishonorably discharged, he and his muppets would have to work really hard on making sure you know you're the only thing that matters.

[miyukisu]

Better Bite the Bullet .ᐟ

❤︎ | He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc) ╰ feat. iwaizumi hajime (hq) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 10 | kinktober masterlist

tags - college au, childhood bestfriends, Oikawa mention, blowjobs, handjobs, no p in v, p*rn with plot, virgin! reader

minors do not interact

You've known Hajime since you were in diapers, long enough that he had grown indifferent to your antics. He hasn't even looked up once from his phone as you paced tirelessly around his bedroom. You were losing your shit and Hajime was sitting on his bed without a care in the world.

A bright idea came to you in the form of making your footsteps louder in hopes that it would annoy him enough to catch his attention. He clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes at your moving form.

But not even a second later, his eyes were back on his phone one again. "What the hell are you even doing?" he asked.

"Pacing around. Isn't it obvious?"

He grumbles, finally turning his phone off and throwing it to the side where it landed on his pillow with a soft thud. "No shit Sherlock. I meant what are you pacing around for? It's annoying."

Finally, you stop in your tracks, facing your childhood best friend with your lower lip between your teeth. You've been dying to tell him what was on your chest an hour ago. But now that you're about to spill the beans to him—you found yourself tripping over your words.

"I guess... um... Oikawa kinda asked me to hang out soon... um..."

Hajime's interest was piqued. Normally he wouldn't give two shits about who Oikawa asked out. But this time it was you. An uneasy feeling brewed in his stomach, like he had drank rancid milk.

"And you're worrying about it like some middle schooler? C'mon you're in college," he deflects. Of course, it was his defense mechanism—to act all tough and harsh with the revelation.

You crossed your arms in defense. "I get that... but it's THE Oikawa Tooru that we're talking about here."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? Is your head not screwed on properly?"

Hajime rolls his eyes. Not only were you about to be whisked away by Oikawa, but you had the gall to act like a total brat right now.

"He's just asking to hang out—what's so amazing about that?"

Truth be told, you hadn't thought this far into what it would be like if you had this conversation with Hajime. You figured you wouldn't have to divulge the second—more embarrassing—part of this whole event.

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips. You screwed your eyes shut as if to prepare for the impact of his reaction on what you have to say next.

"A friend of mine told me that when he says something like that... it usually leads to... you know..."

Hajime's eyebrow perked then silence ensued. He knew what you meant, of course. He wasn't born yesterday.

"To what? Fucking?"

Your eyes shot open at his vulgar choice of words. That's exactly what you meant, but you didn't think he'd be so blunt about it. "I mean—if it does get to that... obviously I won't just go all the way with him. I haven't even talked to him that much," you say—backpedaling.

"You won't go all the way, but you'll go somewhere huh?" he pried further. He played it off like he was teasing or, worse yet, mocking. But he wanted to know; he knew his friend's intentions, but he didn't know yours.

You nervously bit your lip again. This was going to be the third revelation of tonight. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that you'd be having his conversation with your childhood best friend.

"Maybe... maybe, yeah... that's what I'm nervous about..."

The uneasy feeling had grown worse. Hajime swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. "Then just don't," he suggests. "You could always just hang out normally."

Another sigh escapes you and you decide to sit beside him—plopping down on the mattress. You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any tangles that had built up.

"I just wanna experience something... you know? I'll only be young and in college once..." you admit. At this point, there was no use in hiding it. Hajime knew every substantial detail anyway.

This time, it was Hajime who sighed. Part of him still felt dread, but another felt pity for you.

"Jeez..."

Hearing his reaction, you felt the urge to stand up and find your bearings. But a warm hand grips your wrist before you could go. You turn to look back and see Hajime's determined expression.

"I'll teach you then."

────────────

Hajime was a 100% sure not a single rational thought was left in either of your heads. Somehow, he thought that if only you touched him and not vice versa—it would be fine. And, somehow, you agreed to it.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, Hajime leaning against the wall on his bed with his dick out of his sweats.

"Well... that's certainly... something..."

"Do you also plan on commenting about his dick when you see it?"

His sarcasm was hardly appreciated right now, especially since you were sure that your nerves would send you into a tailspin.

"No, of course not. I just—fuck, fine. Let's get to it," you say before scooting closer to him.

Carefully, you reach out and gently wrap your fingers around his shaft. Hajime hissed softly, but you were too concentrated to even notice.

Mesmerized, you swiped your thumb over his tip and gave him a soft tug. His jaw was clenched so hard, trying to act like none of this fazed him. But the way you treated him so delicately was arousing in its own way.

You begin stroking him faster. "Is this okay? It doesn't hurt, right?"

"No, but," Hajime pauses before placing his larger hand over yours. "You could do it better though."

He was now guiding you—actually teaching you how to jerk a guy off. Your eyes were fixated on the way both of your hands glided up and down his shaft, slippery from the immense amount of pre.

But his eyes were on your face. Oddly enough, he found it endearing how focused you were at the task on hand (quite literally). He watched every time your face scrunched, how your mouth was a bit agape, and how your eyebrows would quirk up sometimes.

It was cute, he thought.

As soon as you figured out the pace and pressure, he let go of your hand, allowing you free reign over his dick. You felt it twitch. It was most likely a good sign at least. Even better now that he had his eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall.

Maybe this was easier than you thought. Maybe you could do something else. So your hand slows and your eyes trail up to his face. "Hajime."

"What?"

"Can I use my mouth?"

All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the words that left you. "Huh? What for?"

"No one's gonna be impressed by a handjob. Guys already do it on their own all the time," you reason.

Hajime clicks his tongue. "You don't have to do that kind of thing yet when you're this inexperienced."

He tried staying stern despite the almost pleading look on your face. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was denying you. He could have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in a second and here he was—acting like a righteous fool when he doesn't have to be.

Again, he clicks his tongue. But, this time, not because of you. He's annoyed at himself for having no restraint... for having no shame that he's kind of taking advantage of his best friend's naivety.

But to hell with it.

"Okay," he relents. Hajime watches as you get even closer to him. Only then do you feel the nerves consume you once more.

The newfound confidence you had earlier had quickly dissipated as soon as you began leaning down. It didn't help that his natural manly scent was intoxicating. It was warm—you felt it against your face—and it was achingly hard.

You pucker your lips on instinct, accidentally kissing his tip instead. Hajime thought you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him, not realizing that you were tripping out of nervousness.

"Don't be a tease."

"I'm not!" you countered before quickly wrapping your lips around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent shivers down his spine. But the slight grazing of your teeth on his sensitive shaft made him uncomfortable.

"Ah shit.... less teeth. Gotta hollow out your cheeks a bit."

Your jaw was already hurting. Though it probably had less to do with your skill and more to do with his size. He seemed more manageable with just a hand, but now that you're using your mouth, the task seemed gargantuan now.

But you still try. You do as he says and you feel his entire body relax a bit. It takes a lot of your concentration to make sure your teeth were out of the way and your lips provided enough suction.

That alone had Hajime seeing stars. It wasn't the best blowjob of his life, but seeing that it was your head bobbing up-and-down on his dick was a sensation in and of itself.

After getting used to the basics, you decide to throw in a little bit of tongue action. It caught him by complete surprise and a soft groan spilled from his lips.

Scared that you had hurt him, you were about to lift your head to ask him, but his hand quickly places itself on top of your head. He wasn't rough nor did he forcefully keep your head down.

Instead, he began caressing your hair—starting from the top of your head, going down to smooth your locks. It was his way of reassuring you that he felt fine—amazing even. You were doing a damn good job for someone who hasn't done this before.

Hajime avoided using his voice throughout the whole thing to make it less intimate and more 'educational' if that even made sense. But he understood that you probably needed more reassurance.

"That's it," he started. "You're doing so well... so well for me."

Hajime had filthier things to say otherwise, but again, this was supposed to be 'educational'.

As much as you want to keep up the pace that you built, your jaw was too sore for that. A bit of a break wouldn't hurt, so you retract yourself—tongue lolled out with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. The sight alone would have made him bust, but he kept his composure... somewhat.

"Oh fuck..."

His words spurred you on, however. You settled on suckling his tip while your hand worked on the rest of his length. Having the best of both worlds made his head spin. His leaking tip was the most sensitive it had ever been and the fast pace of your hand made the coil in his stomach tighter and tighter.

Hajime wanted nothing more but to come in your mouth—consider it as payment for him teaching you. His dick began to twitch again like earlier, but this time you noticed the way his abs would tense up. The dampness that had been pooling in your underwear ever since you had his dick in your hand was starting to become distracting. But you pulled through.

"Fuckkk... I'm coming in your mouth," he announced. Thick white ropes of hot cum painted your tongue. The flavor was odd—something you've never tasted before. It made your face contort a bit.

He tried catching his breath after that single mindblowing orgasm. But through his high, he noticed the hesitation on your face. "You don't have to swallow that you—"

But he stops mid-sentence as he watched you gulp down his fresh seed. You've gone this far—might as well.

Hajime swore that he felt his dick twitch back to life, ready for more. He wasn't sure what you did to him. But now he was certain that you absolutely shouldn't do this with anyone but him.

"Fuck... forget about that moron. Have fun with me instead."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Wow... I'm actually kinda proud of this one?

[drbtinglecannon]

This is peak customer behavior, hot damn.

*changed the core ingredient of the cake* "Cake turned out rather nasty so two stars"

[callmecoke]

Thinking of the first time the 141 discover you on a website for Sugar Babies...p2

CW: mention of sex work (being a sugar baby), SFW much like the last one, but it does deal with adult topics so proceed with caution!

Thinking about the time your friends introduced you to this website, partially as a joke. A place where ‘Sugar babies’ can do live videos for rich guys and galls so they can rack in tons of money just by talking. Honestly, you didn’t even consider it initially. It was all just a fun litle joke.

But, eventually, life caught up to you. Out of a job with bills to pay and school to go to, you were left scrambling to get ahead. Of course, friends were more than happy to lend you some cash for your hard times, but that wasn’t even a temporary solution to your problem. You needed something that could keep you afloat long enough to find a job. Ergo, the website. It was the last idea on your mind and honestly, as you were opening up your laptop you were starting to regret it. Felt kinda embarrassing to put yourself out there and admit you needed money from rich older guys to get by. But your dignity would have to wait for later; you had bills to pay and food to put on your table.

You booted up the livestream and, having no idea where to go from there, just started talking. Eventually A small amount of viewers would pop in and you had questions to entertain. No one really tipped over 10 dollars on the stream. You tried to be energetic, hoping that maybe you would bring in more viewers that way, but it clearly wasn’t working. Nearly an hour goes by, and you’re starting to be disillusioned and a little disappointed. You start considering closing the stream down when a 200 dollar tip lights up your laptop screen, followed by a question from a no name account.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You hadn’t been paid that much the entire stream, and it got the excitement back rushing in your veins. You answered “No!” a little too quickly for your liking but when the answer was followed up by another 100 dollar tip, you knew you didn’t embarrass yourself too much. 

All then you started chatting with this mystery account. They asked you all sorts of questions. They asked about your old job, the course you're studying, what you want to be when you leave school, your hobbies, ect. And you started to actually enjoy talking to this person. Not even for the money (All though, admittedly, still a big part of it), but just because there’s someone on the other side of the world that’s interested in your life. 

Eventually the stream did have to end when you looked up and realised how late it had gotten. By the time you were closing the stream and checking your account, you realised you had made around 1,000 dollars already. It felt great to see some actual money in your account for once. Before you finally shut down your laptop for good, you got a private dm request on the website, along with another 500 dollar sent to you.

“Hey, Love. Me and the boys want you to know we appreciate the chat. Hope to hear that sweet voice of yours again soon. 

Sincerely,

-Price.”