#and she was like no maam you cant do that . all your gonna do is push people away

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so Snap this is going to be so fucking weird, but honestly don’t care. So I was watching a clip of Drag Race Philippines and it was the make over episode and I think they were making over family members and this father was all about getting into drag. So, I just wanted to tell you never forget how much of a lovely loving kind and caring father you have, who loves you and protects you and makes you feel heard. That’s all.

i'd have to die before i forget how great my dad is thank you for the opportunity to brag about him again anon

[satuurnos]

I need to stop dragging the dead weight forward 😔

[ravensmadreads]

OK YOU KNOW WHAT

FUCK YOU

T_T

iron and charcoal

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

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

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

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

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

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All the longer without you.

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

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

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

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

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

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He bows to you.

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

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

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

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

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

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

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

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

“What did you say?”

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

Fuck it. 

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

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

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

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pero, I –,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

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

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me, Tovar!”

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

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

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

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

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

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

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

“You are everything to me.”

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

“You’re so very I love you too.” 

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

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

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

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

Translations:

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

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

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

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

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

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

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

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

[igotlovestruck]

mr lover [ ben chilwell ]

— right where you left lover girl sequel, this takes place two years later!

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — ben chilwell x singer!reader . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — romance, mentions pregnancy, google translated french . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ clearing my drafts again 😵‍💫 if you ask me, i’m obsessed with singer!reader fics lol

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. �� httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

benchilwell

liked by masonmount, yourusername, reecejames and others

benchilwell family time

view all 592 comments

user am i reading this right ?? ‘family’ time ??

user his dog clinging to y/n is the cutest thing ever

user they’re such dog parents 😭

yourusername my babyyy my babyyy

benchilwell which one?

yourusername one of you will be in a lot of pain if i say who

benchilwell 🙄

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, masonmount, cmpulisic and others

yourusername look at me, i am the favourite hooman now.

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user not y/n quoting from captain phillips 😭

benchilwell once i get back home, i will take my title back

yourusername NONSENSE! you cannot dethrone the current favourite hooman

user y/n saying hooman instead of human 😭 that’s so dog momma of her

yourusername i birthed this child

benchilwell huh

yourusername huh

user pls he looks so comfy on y/n’s lap, he’s obviously not a lap dog

yourusername if he fits, he sits

user agreed 🤝

user why did all this time i thought y/n was a cat person

user she literally loves any kind of animal 😭 she adopted a ferret when she was a kid

yourusername omg !! mr fuzzy wuzzy was my childhood pet 🥹 maybe i should adopt another ferret

benchilwell what? no way

yourusername heheheheheheheeh

benchilwell

liked by masonmount, yourusername, judebellingham and others

benchilwell home is where the heart is.

view all 289 comments

yourusername but god i love the english

benchilwell you know i love a london boy

yourusername 🫣🫣

user ben at this point, you really are the extra hooman

benchilwell i cant blame him

yourusername i told you i birthed this dog

benchilwell 😂

yourprivate

liked by masonspriv, reecespriv, mikaspriv and 23 others

yourprivate hehe oops

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mikaspriv what the fuck is this how i find out ?!?!?!!

yourprivate heheheheheheheeheh

mikaspriv IM PACKING MY BAGS AND HOPPING ON THE NEXT PLANE

benspriv little chilly 🔜

masonspriv i never wouldve known if i hadnt opened this account

reecespriv me too mate

christiansprivme three

jackspriv me four

benspriv me five

yourpriv what

benspriv what

yourusername and benchilwell

liked by masonmount, chelseafc, england, madders and 8,826,937 others

yourusername we’re getting him a human in a few months 🙈

view all 399,826 comments

benchilwell babe i thought we already agreed what the caption will be

yourusername mines funnier

benchilwell 🙄

masonmount who thought that covering his eyes would be cute

yourusername mine. do you have any problem with that? 😀

masonmount i don’t maam, it’s a great idea, very very cute!

user this is the cutest announcement 😭

user as a fellow dog mummy, i approve of this post!

weratedogs 100/10 for being such a good boy and will be the goodest big brother!

user as a y/n fan since debut, i feel OLD (we’re the same age)

yourusername omg since debut album?!?!?! 😳 we have to meet like RIGHT NOW

user y/n went from writing how she’s stuck in the past, to loving herself and loving a new person 🥹 now she’s probably gonna write something about her baby ... just thinking about it rn makes me emotional

— ❤️ by yourusername

england congratulations benchilwell and yourusername! 🤍

chelseafc shall we make a onesie for baby chilwell?

yourusername omg YES PLEASE

benchilwell 🤦🏻‍♂️

yourusername JUST IMAGINE HOW CUTE OUR BABY WILL BE ON THAT ONESIE

benchilwell

liked by prodbymika, masonmount, madders, england and others

benchilwell eleanor chilwell is here 🩷👨🏻‍🍼 you did good mama, i’m proud and grateful to you, yourusername. i love you both

comments on this post have been limited.

yourusername thank you dada, we love you too 🩷

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, charles_leclerc and 3,826,929 others

yourusername the happiest i’ve ever been 🩷 merci pour tout mon benji. je t'aime toi et eleanor de tout mon coeur. (thank you for everything, my benji. i love you and eleanor with all my heart)

view all 150,729 comments

benchilwell 🩷🩷

user several chapters missed but i’m glad to see you so happy y/n 🥹

user i was surprised when they announced she was pregnant, bit i was more surprised to know that they’re married now 😭

user the hand placements of ben 😭

user i’m so alone yall

user AAA y/n 🥺

user literally went from being dog parents to real parents 🥺🩷

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────────────

yourusername and benchilwell

2,836,729 likes

yourusername darling, don’t you ever grow up... just stay this little. happy birthday my sweet eleanor🩷 mama (with the help of dada) wrote a song for you baby, me and dada loves you sooo much. never grow up out now ✨

view all 238,861 comments

benchilwell growing up too fast, my ellie bear 🥲

user ellie bear... 😭 bens such a girl dad

user stopp im emo im not even a parent

user omg eleanor looks so cute!!

user milks expensive, im too young to be a mum

user my daily mantra every time i see ben or y/n post eleanor

user they have a little ballerina 🥺

user 4 years old already? 😭 time really flew by omg

yourusername i know right 🥺

user y/n and her happy ending 🥺 CURRENTLY TAKING A BATH WITH MY TOASTER RN

[istarveforplatonicptnstuff]

Commiting tax evasion with Bai yi as your ceo...

Girl... I don't even know how you got here but... You were very likely HIGHKEY scammed by miss gurl... 🦗🦗🦗 Yeah... Why did you apply in a shady company anyways...? But you probably was LOOKING 👀 for a job that can PAY the bills 💵💵💵 but spoilers, you were UNDERPAID, OVERWORKED, and most esp. Not even paid anyways... 🙄🙄🙄 So forget what I said about being paid little because girl you are not paid even once while you were working with this stink... 😑

You decided to apply for a job position as her assistant... In Syndicate. Pooks... This should've been your first red flag, but NOPE! You were DESPERATE. For what though? 🤨 And the flyer wasn't... That great like sis... Again, another red flag... Couldn't you just... 🏃‍♀️💨 away from the moment you saw the flyer? (/j I'm holding you in 😰🔫 point so, you didn't have a choice anyway 💅) But who even reads nowadays as long as, we get PAID 🤑🤑🤑 right? So, fast forward to you clutching your pearls and barely making it out alive to meet with the interviewer... Maam. Major red flag, the building looked run-down.

Pookie... 🤧 You didn't almost get stabbed, kidnapped, mugged, and possibly even get robbed for your kidney for this... 😭😭😭 Finally, your employer shows up in this DRIP 💧, what you doing???

Remember when I said that you have the option to say no? I didn't say anything 😇 The thing is, you can't. You just CANT. Look me in the eye and tell me that this girl wouldn't do SHIT to you rn... Be serious, because I don't even think you're gonna walk out of the interview scot free sis... Nah uh, not at all... Sis looks like she is about to beat the SHIT out of you, and will most likely sell your organs after that... 🥺🥺🥺 Luckily, she spoke up and had that mom vibe that you almost instantaneously calm down...

After hyperventilating and K.K giving you odd looks as well... Finally you were in the "company" Yay? 🧍‍♀️ You stood there staring at the dusty ass couch and a man who looked VERY sleep-deprived. You learned that Che was their name. But why is he dressed up like he about to go for a hike...? Sighs, i don't think you'll ever get the fashion of Syndicate... You and the two held a mini staring contest like you two were Communicating, that K.K was confused at the random moment she had to snap ya'll out of it and discuss the job details... The job being, you doing all the paperwork... For 50 discoins per hour. Stink, you're screwed 😃

Obviously, you were about to decline... Until finally, the CEO showed up. Sighs. You ask to yourself, was this really worth the trip and the STRUGGLE you went through? Stink cannot even bribe you with her face card because you still had to pay the billssssss 😞

Bai yi shows up, you hear the sound of sirens and cops speaking through the megaphone. 🤡 You really thought this was going to be the las time you'll be seeing daylight, like sis you were going to JAIL. ⛓⛓⛓ For existing. The three of them noticed and explains casually that this is their hideout, and no one's breached here before. You raised a brow at the statement, skeptical at how relaxed they were acting 🤨🤨🤨 Like who you fooling??? Though you can't speak for yourself when, you waltzed into Syndicate knowing DAMN well that this place was bad news... So you kept it to yourself 🥰

Of course, Bai yi bribes you to stay and become Whitestone Industries assistant with a sob story that can make you cry... Except you weren't gullible enough and walked out of the door, preferring to get arrested instead, lmao 🤭🤭🤭 Sis chased you down the stairs like it was a kdrama scene, grabbing your arm and acting like this was the last time ya'll seeing each other 💀 girl, you can never escape her because she's all over and like, she's a criminal, what else? 🤓 You ended up accepting in the end, because you wasted your time for this... Making K.K sigh in relief since she finally isn't alone with two idiots... Unless you add up to the equation then... 😶

Timeskip to a month, you and sis was WORKING. Helping them out with ✨Graphic design is my passion✨ motto since you wanted to get rid off the... Terrible... Designs that they come up with when they release an ad, flyer, or promotion post. You kinda got used to the usual, illegal work they do because why not? 😎 You already gave up in paying the bills, so why not commit tax evasion as well, right? You asked Bai yi tips on how to tax evade 🏃‍♀️ K.K was beyond mortified at the sudden camaraderie that came after the event, making you and Bai yi besties 🤝 Friendship ended with the government 💔 Tax evasion is my pookie now 🥰

You are being hunt down by the police as well, causing you to move to Syndicate, living with K.K, Che, and Bai yi currently. Life was good, until Bai yi kept bringing more problems than solutions everyday, causing you to become one of the MOTHER 👩‍🦰 alongside with K.K, making sure the other two stay out of trouble because they're a magnet for chaos, apparently. K.K's words, not mine 🤷‍♀️ More on that when I think of part two! An: My exam in a major subject FLOPPED. 👎📉 /j, I'm overthinking so I cope with writing unserious shit to think less of it, and hopefully make the redemption in finalsssss HISSSS 🐍 RAH❗❗❗ 🦅 But anyways, to more UNSERIOUS, and UNHINGED shit to come!!! But also some serious ptn stuff (Like the nursing intern one)

[tragically-jane-doe]

I FORGOT THERES NEW EPISODES FUCK

In-a 💖💖💖💖 Thanx for finally looking out for your lil sis

Oh yeah I forgot our man is in a house fire

Get your twink ass outta my house

I'm so happy about in-a being in hee-joo corner my girl needed another ally

Fuck these parents

I'm sorry I can't get over how they're clearly in PJs but sa-eon mom is rocking around in heels

Thank God they were just red herring us in EP 8

The driving pass scene is just so fucking silly

Sang woo in the corner sad eyeing his first love holy shit

"Tell me how to hate you" "tell me how not to love you" continues to be lines that BREAK me

Hee-joo is really like every girl having a lil melt down in the bathroom

I too like to do gorey lil crafts Mr og sa-eon

Okay grandpappy go off

If this man starts over explaining how maybe he might not actually be paik sa-eon and hee-joo is just that's been known I will be so happy please

Sa-eon having to be nice to sang woo now that he saved him im loving it

Nah idk if she's obsessed enough she only sent like 100 txts and a millon voice mails

How much do you think he wanted to start kicking his feet twirling his hair when he saw all the texts and VM

IGRL YOU CANT JUST DISAPPEAR HES GONNA LEAVE THE HOSPITAL LOOKING FOR U

In-a baby girl what Cha doinggg

I TOLD YOU HEE-JOO I TOLD YOU

"I've lived because of you, ive endured because of you" is quickly taking second place

Dw babe ik still insanely downbad for you

Guys I think they like eachother

such a fucking baddie here to cause some mischief

THOSE ARTS AND CRAFTS ARE LOVELY

I love Sang woo and Yu-ri dynamic

Never knew stalking your wife could be hot huh

SIR THAT IS DOUBLE STANDARD LET HER STALK YOU

Poor Mr Kang HE JUST CARES SO MUCH

Hee-joo watch out Mr kang is coming for your mans

HER DAD DOING THE SIGHS WHILE WATCHING AHHH HES SO PROUD

The traumaaaa

OH MY GOD WE WERE RIGHT

Stop they're so fucking cute it's sicking

REAL SA-EON GETTING HIS ASS BEAT TODAY

MY BOY MR KANG GOT RANCID VIBES FROM THIS MOFO

NVM Do-jae is a lil bitch who doesn't understand he's dealing with a actual sociopath

ITSA TRAP MY BOY A TRAP

Peek a boooo my boo

WHY DO-JAE WHY DID YOU START THIS

Ooooh honey sweetie baby child Do-jae DO-JAE BAYBE

Rip my psycho dude

Oh damn he's been at this for ages

Goddamn mommy dearest much

HE'S KILLED CHILDREN AS A CHILD MAAM

I don't like agreeing with sa-eon dad but the man's has a point

Cool he's not dead TIME TO REPENT FOR YOUR SINS SWEETIE

Hes not angry just disappointed

Oh sang woo baby going thru the trenches

Wouldn't it be crazy if all of this could've been avoided if the real sa-eon didn't get seen by the lil brother

HEE-JOO GETTING HER BACK BONE

Did this mother fucker send his own DNA report to in-a just so he could marry hee-joo Jesus Christ

Yes ma'am push his ass down

Eeeeeeeee

Again this man wants her to dom him so bad

He's such a fucking idiot I love him

HES CRYING FUCK

Y'all im losing it THEYRE SO LAME AND IN LOVE

DID EVERYONE KNOW HEE-JOO COULD TALK IN THIS FAMILY JESUS CHRIST

I still can't tell if the step daddy is trash or not?

NVM he's showing up with a gun to a memorial I'm gonna say he isnt

But like he isn't great either but better than sa-eon parents at least

Hee-joo baby girl where r u u can't be dead just no theres like 2 more episodes

Ty Mr reporter man I love you

Wow everyone finding out that they're married like this damn

They cliff hanger me again fuck

I WAS BORN TO MEET YOU

They really pulled no punches huh

I'm sorry where's my here's what to look forward to previews?!?! HOW AM I TO COPE

I know she's not dead but I would like to see her not being dead

Anyways happy new years

[softness-and-shattering]

Requisite grouch about the representation of embroidery, particularly in Bridgerton. Season 3, Im just getting to. So I get the point of this little scene is "Eloise is not interested in conventional feminine topics and doesnt fit in with her peers, and we are doing this by showing disdain for embroidery" and I fully get that in the cultural consciousness embroidery is this frivolous nonsense that rich women did to keep busy and isnt worth anything.

But two things. One, as Ive said before, the Bridgerton costuming is full of embroidery, of the kind that has to be machine made. And Im not gonna talk about historical accuracy because I consider the costuming part of the shows premise ie something you just have to accept to enjoy the show because its central. Like you cant enjoy Dungeon Meshi if you have to know how its possible for magic and dungeons to exist, you just have to accept that its part of the setting.

So either the seamstress has a few machines shes using for the lavish embroidery or her cloth is extravagantly expensive beyond all reason. LIke even more than youre already thinking.

And these women are surrounded by it, making their trade with it, its literally built into their fashion. So scorn for it makes zero sense. Second, in this scene in particular at the ball. The dialogue goes, almost exactly:

"Well the leaf stitch is tried and true"

[I think Eloise says something]

"Then theres the running stitch, the straight stitch, the fern stitch, the French knot -"

"What's your favourite stitch Eloise?"

This is not how people talk about embroidery! Its not exciting because of the stitches that exist, its exciting for how you use the stitches and what shapes and textures you can make, and how you manipulate the thread and fabric to create all kinds of interesting effects and patterns. And I fully understand that someone can be bored by that, its not for everyone. Im just mad that their "this is a normal conversation about embroidery" is listing stitching and asking someone their favourite. They could have done something like

"I just learned a new stitch, its called the split stitch, and it has this really cool effect that makes the thread look like its knitted, so Im embroidering my dog with this technique to really capture his fur, and im using French knots for his little beady eyes, and then Im gonna use the split stitch and this gorgeous russet floss to make him the coziest little sweater!"

"Oh my god I do not want to hear another thing about your thread dog and its fake thready sweater."

Thats like, a real conversation someone might have that someone else could find boring, and its respectful - and realistic - to the hobby and craft and art of embroidery! It sounds like something a human might say. Not "here are some stitch names, wait why are you being rude?". Its like imitating a conversation about someones dog like "and he has paws and his paws have nails and then he has knees and then he has two eyes and a tail" thats not how people talk about dogs! you might see "his tail is so waggy, and his eyes are so soulful, and his little feet are the cutest thing, let me tell you a story -". We couldve had a story about an embroidery mishap, that could be funny.

but no we must hold onto old outdated and sexist ideas about things and disdain them for no good reason while our costume department is embroidering everything because lets not examine any of our attitudes about anything!

The worst was still the dressmaker last season complaining about ladies and their embroidery MAAM THATS LITERALLY YOUR JOB. Ok now I can go back to watching for the pretties. And I very much admire Colin's big swooshy coat.

Im also trying to work out if Cressida is sapphic. Eloise and Pen absolutely have "middle grade sapphic friends have strangely intense friendship and then huge strangely intense breakup fight," and looks like Pen is bi, but Im really hoping they properly go into queer themes with Eloise and not just sign her up for a guy later. Also pretty sure the latest Bridgerton this season - Francesca? - is ace. Big ace vibes on her.

Swooshy coat!!

[fatmaclover]

got straight up sick thinking about mac and joyce coming out to the rest of their family. cw for any homophobia or transphobia mentioned

you can imagine mac desperately sitting his mom down, trying so hard to get her attention for just a moment, just a second, to tell her about something really important to him. you can imagine him getting progressively more and more stressed the more his mom just wont listen.

his extended family would definitely be easier on account of them all being flaming homosexual men but theyd all for sure do the "i was waiting for when youd finally realize!" spiel and that would actually make mac end it right there i think. theres a certain type of anxiety in telling people who think youre already queer that you are in fact queer. you could be queer in the wrong way to them, they could be disappointed by your identity, they can get too into helping you figure yourself out, and i cant imagine how insecure constant "egg" jokes would make me about my identity. all this to say i think mac coming out to his queer family would be harder on him than trying to come out to his mom

and then. joyce. god bonnie makes me wanna do awful things to the point where i can see joyce just never telling her and she never asks questions. maam your "son" named "charlie" has noticeable breasts are you really gonna see no evil it?

its hard to figure out what bonnies actual reaction to joyce being trans would be. i think theres like. 3 ways it could go. 1) bonnie blames herself for whatever reason. for joyce being trans period, for joyce not figuring it out sooner, for not being able to help, just generally feeling guilt iver the fact that her daughter is a woman. 2) she tries to pretend its fine surface level but theres clearly a different way she sees joyce now. theres a lot more tension there than before. its never acknowledged or brought up. they both hope if they just ignore it it wont boil over into something they have to deal with. 3) is the worst option. theres always the classic "but i gave you so much" but i think thatd be a more internalized thing for bonnie. not something she actively expresses to joyce, because shes supposed to be a good mother. but i dont doubt those feelings would be there. for some reason a lot of parents let repressed resentment towards their children bubble up inside them

realistically though i dont think joyce WOULD tell her mom. it feels like a show bit or sketch for joyce to have to explain to mac that he has to deadname and misgender her when they go to her moms house and mac to be totally lost for most of it.

if anything she would only come out to her mom for convenience so she doesnt have to make sure mac wont gender her properly accidentally and start a whole thing. but thatd still be such a hassle

[ya-what--ya-erster]

@ivys-head-is-spinning @deim0sdread Have this. …..

…..

JUST TO BE CLEAR THIS IS HALLA WORK IN PROGRESS BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT SORRY THE SPACING IS WEIRD SO IS THE TIME SKIPS DEAL WITH IT <3

…

“Help yourself to some food, and you can show yourself out whenever ya please. I gotta go, Paulie. Ill be home for a while midday, then I gotta go to my other job and I aint gonna be home til late.” “Mhm.” Paul mumbles, pulling his eyes open just a little. He reaches forward and kisses Darry. “Bye.” Darry says, and he leaves for work.

He thinks about Paul all day. He thinks about him until its late and hes walking through the door. He steps into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, and he finds- The table is stacked with grocery bags. On the fridge, theres a note left.

‘I put the refrigerated stuff away. Dont worry. Also made one of them sandwiches i know ya like. Get good rest.’

Darrys grinning like an absolute idiot as he reads the note, signed by ‘P’ with a little heart next to it. “That asshole.” Is what he says, but really its a weight lifted off his shoulders. Food. Enough for a week or too. That saves a lot of money, money he can use to pay all the other things he has to pay.

“I need some cash.” Paul says to his father. “Whatd you do with what I gave you this mornin?” “Went grocery shoppin.” “Your mother went shoppin.” “Not for us.” “Who, then?” “You remeber Darrel Curtis, yeah? Hes in a bad way. Him and his brother are working two jobs each, and Ponyboys picked up part time so he can still go to school and theyre still barely payin for nothin. I though maybe Id… help em out.” “Spent my money on grease then?” “Sorry, I just thought-“ “Youre a good kid.”

Two days later, Darry has a day off, and hes treking across town to the west side to thank Paul. Hes dressed as nice as possible, and when he knocks on the Holdens door he feels fine. “How can I- Darrel! Oh, its been such a long time! Come inside!” Pauls mom greets him. “Hi, Mrs. Holden.” He says. “Is Paul here?” “He will be in a little while. Why dont you come eat? I just put breakfast on.” “Oh, I couldnt-“ “Of course you can. In fact, Ill send you home with some for your brothers too!” Paul pushes through the front door then. “Hi, mama- Darry. Hi.” Paul smiles. And Darry cant help but look away as his face turns red. “Darrel’s going to join us for breakfast.” Mrs. Holden says brigtly. “You should have just slept in. It would do you some good.” Paul says to Darry. “I’m used to getting up early. I just… thank you, Paul. For the food. You aint got a clue how much it means to me. With all you gave me I might have enough money to do Christmas for Soda and Pony.” “Do you not usually?” Paul asks, a concerned look on his face. “I try to do a good dinner, but we really aint able to afford much else.” Darry admits. “Im glad to have helped.” “I love you.” Darry whispers. Paul looks around nervosly, the returns it with a smile. “Come sit!” Mrs. Holden calls from the kitchen. Darry playfully punches Pauls shoulder. “Cmon bro, your mom is gonna feed me.” Paul laughs. “Okay bro.”

“So Darrel, Paul says you work for a roofin company. Tell me bout it.” Mr. Holden says. “Its good.” Darry replies. “Ive fallen off my fair share of roofs, but lucky Im grease cause most of the houses I fix are one story homes.” “How are your brothers?” “Good. Pony still dont talk too much after what happened. Most days he dont say nothin at all. But hes gettin better. And Soda, too. Hes gettin better.” “Im glad to hear it. That poor boy didnt do a thing to deserve what he got. Losing his best friend.” “Hes real torn up about it.” “It must be hard on you too.” “Its sad. But I aint got time to mourn. I gotta work so we dont lose nothing else.” “Youre too young for how fast youve had to grow up.” “I, uh, I better be headed home maam.” “Let me get you some food!” Mrs. Holden jumps up and begins rummaging through cupboards. Once she finds some tupperware she loads it full of hashbrown and bacon. “Paul, wont you drive him home?” “Course I will, mama.” Paul smiles. He stands up with Darry. Pulls him close by the waist and leans in and- pushes him away as quickly and he can. “Here, Darrel.” Mrs. Holden presses the tupperware container into Darrys hands. “I hope my boy treats you right.” “What?” Darry coughs, nervous. “I saw that honey, it aint just a friendly thing. And i think i always knew. Its okay, boys.” Mrs. Holden takes Paul and Darrys hands. “I wont tell nobody. But if you two are in love, thats what it is and im proud of you because love is a beautiful thing.” “Thanks mama.” Paul’s says, tears filling his eyes. “Of course baby. I love you. Now you two go. Ain’t nothing romantic going to happen in front of your mama. Darrel, you and your brothers and all your friends always have a safe place here. Always.” “Thank you, Mrs. Holden.” “Get out! Go! Have fun, use protection, I love you boys.”

Paul parks the car in Darry’s driveway and the two of them go inside. “Pony, Soda! I have breakfast for y’all. Mrs. Holden made it for ya.” Ponyboy sits down at the table next to Soda within a few minutes. “Heya, Paul.” Two-Bit appears in the kitchen too. “Hi.” Paul says. “We already ate, so you boys help yourselves to this stuff. We’re gonna go. Talk about some stuff.” “Sure you are.” Soda says with a grin.

“I’m gonna kiss you.” “You better.” Paul pulls Darry to him and does indeed kiss him. “I love you so much.” Paul says. Darry pulls away. “I love you too. More than you’ll ever understand. You’ve done so much for me… for my brothers. I love you and so don’t think nothin will ever make me stop. You know there ain’t no way I’ll ever be able to pay you back for what you’ve given me but I’m gonna do my best to pay it back by being the best damn boyfriend you ever did have. I promise.”

[irl-ichi]

irritated because i told my parents this wound needs repacked EVERY DAY but they insisted it would be fine skipping a day because god forbid they miss out on watching my sisters softball games that they go to EVERY WEEKEND

"its her birthday we wouldnt make you be alone on your birthday" its not her actual bday tho? shes gonna be alone during the week? so if youre celebrating a different day than her actual bday anyway why not just wait a week?? your CHILD had SURGERY and has a GIANT HOLE in her BACK that she cant tend to herself. how am i the one being ridiculous here

plus the audacity of my mom to be mad at me this morning for not taking HER dog out immediately and instead waiting the 20 min for my brother to get home and do it. like maam this is YOUR tiny-bladdered dog YOU left knowing the kid who is willing to take care of him will be GONE all weekend. your other kid just had surgery and is already doing crap shes not supposed to (bend, crouch) because no one will be around to help her feed the cats (again, screw her i guess). i dont know what you expected but im already in pain and i have to ration my pain pills because you kept taking them for your tooth pain so i dont wanna go outside in 20 degree weather for a dog i dont like. because they did this my brother has to pick me up twice a day so i can feed the cats and give insulin then drop me back off and hes pissed about it. making things harder for literally everyone and i bet my sister wouldnt even mind if they didnt go but nooo thats their Star Child the rest of us are just in Her world 🙄

anyway surprise surprise its not fine im starting to bleed through the gauze already

[mjammies]

HES A GOOD MAN SAVANNAH (the elite ch25-26)

idk why im riding so hard for maxon, but these last two chs had me absolutely gagggeddd. i was really close to throwing my laptop at one moment real shit. anyway ch 25-26

Ch 25 

-okayy america asking for private lessons….boringggg

-”id make a better princess than she would” girl this is not about that

-ofc its a passion project that gets miss red white and blue excited

-they gotta do presentationsss, the way i woulda called it quits, its not worth it my anxiety couldnt do it

-”you could run your presentation by me if you like. Kriss did” eyes wide HUH

-miss thing aint even got an idea yet golly

-”youve seen more hardships in your life than the other four combined” plz maxon i beg. I love a good oppression olympics but not rn, im tireddd

-hes peepingggg that she been acting off

-okay so now apparently its not him its the position. eye roll 

-hes spitting facts, like gurl hes given you all the time, if youre still unsure then its bout time to pack it up

-im gonna kms, GET HER OUTTA HEREEEEEEE, idk why i rather have her than kriss but atp i might be switching sides

-ooooo an ultimatum, juicyyy

-”but youre being a bit careless with my one shot” PERIOD

-”maybe i should leave” and then she tells him he SHOULD??!?!?!?!? GIRL FUCK YOU, wheres my gun, get her OUTTA HEREEEEE

-but i will say he gagged tf outta her when he left, “i’ll just go see what kriss is doing” such a nastyyyyy come back, i love itttt, gon head and see a girl who ACTUALLY wants to see you. 

Ch26 

-here come aspen, alexa play knuck if you buck

-i prayyyy they get caught in this book

-a caste exchange program, really aspen?

-now america fighting with every body, girl whats going on???

-not shes mad that these folks are asking her for commitment

-lollll not gregory out here hoeing folks, maybe i shoulda been reading his diary entries

-oh look america is actually using her brain for once

-so the real villain of this story is gregory illea

-not she going straight to maxon room, period march up there queen

-oh.my.god. Not maxon gottanother girl in the room, the way i woulda thrown up right there in the doorway, i mighta swung on one of the guards too who knows.

-AHHHHHH so apparently hes not in the room okay good

-when did maxon become a blond???? I thought he had light brown hair atleast, or is that considered blonde idkkkkkkkk

-him and celeste is getting itttt, maxon really exploring his optionsssss

-not maxon and miss girl LOCKING EYESSS, im gagged, im screaming, but good on her

-”so stupid, america. So stupid” YUP, YUP. YUP seeeee shes learning 

-waitaminute what is happening now????

-1) she is gonna chose aspen now apparently, 2) maxon is mad and shes mad, but lets see

-shes just mad he was hugged up on celeste, if it was kriss she probably woulda charged it to the game.

-ooo chile, not her telling him she’ll leave and then him saying she aint going no where, like clock it

-WAITAMINUTE the gurls are actually heated, i am all the way sattttt

-she literally shoved him, its getting physical

-im sorry (not sorry) but maxon remaining calm woulda got me acting right real quick.

-”i wanted a reason to hurt him” ummm maam are you okay?

-”but there was no rage in him” oopp, yeahhhh this woulda done it for me, i woulda been begging for forgiveness

-bro is he gonna kiss her??????

-GIRRLLLLLLLLLLLL I LITERALLY CANT BROOO I HATE THIS BITCH SO MUCH LIKE PLEASEEEE, SINCE YOU ON THE BALCONY ALREADY JUST DO US A BIG ONE AND JUMP CAUSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THREW THE BRACELET, I HATE YOUUUUU RGJN;FSKGSAR GKRJGBIRUISEHRVGIKHREWIU

-”i wasnt here to win anymore. So how could i go out with a bang?” ummm how about you BLOW YOURSELF UP is that bang enough for you???!??!?!

[luetta]

im not very good at roleplaying characters that aren't just me in a different flavour (or depthless fleshlights), so i thought i'd stick to my strengths and create a character ! she has been rotating around inside my brain the past couple of weeks. and now that i finally have proper internet again, i present... Bridget Schwartzchild,

my lovably woeful cis lesbian chaser char

at 23 years old, she's finally moved out of her dad's basement and into the city! but when she's not disassociating at her job printing for an office supply store, she's either doing her half-load polisci course at the community college, or trying to find some human connection in this big, lonely world. some formative events in her youth include: -her grandma from the mountains telling her, as she's chopping wood, that "suffering builds character. people who've toiled and hurt and wept - they're the ones you wanna surround yourself with. their burning passion to continue despite it all will warm you up. folks who haven't ever fallen in the mud and cried up at that unfeeling sky.. sometimes i don't even think they're even alive in that dumb head of theirs" -moving to a new country and watching everything she thought was her world recede into the distance, never to be felt again. -performing shakespear plays in theatre, true shakespear style. aka all the boys played the girls! and vice versa. -getting bullied by the popular sporty boys for literally no reason -getting bullied by the popular clique-y girls. she knew why though. they made sure of that -ditchin school to throw rocks through random windows -smoking weed for da first time with some goths and watching two of them make out from across the shoddy bonfire ... n they were both girls.

so yeah. she realised she was a lesbian in high school from looking at fanfiction and anime mvs but didn't really do much with it except squirm in angst. too busy being edgy and depressed from *broadly gestures at everything* and her dad's ever increasing disappointment to do anything about it. but now she's an independent adult! the world is her oyster! and whether it was her choice or just an inevitability it's hard to say. but ... she has seemingly become infatuated with trans girls. they're just so alluring! they're beautiful and handsome all at the same time. every single one of em has gone through so much shit, society treats em so bad, it's so admirable! she just wants to give em the love they should be getting from everyone and now that she's an independent adult she's gonna make it everyone's problem!

she's gonna get high at 1am and message random tgirls on grindr the most diabolically down bad shit ever. unprompted "hi maam can i take you out into the country and show you how pretty the stars are. and you can use me like a toy too. ive been aching for your girlcock for the past 20 min. i dont know how to drive though can you drive?"

she's gonna get accused of being a terf in her polisci class for constantly going "um excuse me have you even considered how that policy would effect the trans community?" in every conversation, and she gets so flustered and indignant and offended and says how could i be a terf? my GIRLFRIEND is a TRANS GIRL! ...despite this girlfriend not existing in the slightest. it's not really lying if that's how it SHOULD be, right? not her fault that all the sweet precious trans girl are hiding from the cruel world in their rooms!

she's gonna be on the fucking prowl for trans girl in the wild coming into her work. transvestigating random civilians "ooh are they trans? hmmm maybe.. they've got some of the telltale signs ... ooh i hope i get to serve em! i'll probs be able to tell from their voice" she's gonna be internally constantly flipflopping between 'trans cock is so fucking hot i need it in me, i dont care if she cant get hard i just need it it's so cool how theyre girls and still have a dick' and 'its so sad that tgirls can't ever experience scissoring, i wish bottom surgery was easier so they can finally experience what it's like to really be a girl' (shes never fucked a cis girl either btw)

she's gonna go to the emo and goth nights at the clubs and inns, solo, getting drunk and scouting trans groups. just so she can shimmy her way over and try infiltrate the group. "heyyyy gurls~ oh my god your outfit is so cute you look amazinggg" and then she'd get even more drunk and, through some 'come hither' looks, attempt send psychic messages to any trans girl she'd gotten positive feedback from that she wants to see whats underneath their cool clothes and to take her into the ladies bathroom to fuck. didn't really work and she'd take an uber home and masturbate/pass out.

she's gonna a baeddel themed tumblr blog posting kink stuff about trans girl supremacy, that cis girls need to be trans girls' fucktoys and such. she'd also run a sideblog to saltily post about how she doesn't get t4t relationships because don't transbians want to fuck a pussy? isn't that what lesbian means? t4t is just two cocks together, they'd be so much happier getting to use a cis girl...

she's gonna turn down an actually-interested-in-her cis lesbian's advances because cis girls are all just so basic. they're too hyperfeminine in their looks and conduct, they remind her of 1950s housewives. she wants trans girls. they're counterculture. they're androgenous. they're unique. not like these cookie cutter cis girls. not like me.. and yeah. that's pretty much all i can think to write about bridget. kinda just needed to get this chick outta my head and onto text. she's such a weirdo. i love her. and i so wouldve fucking been her if i were a cis girl it's so embarrassing haha. there wasn't really much hot stuff here, closer to like slice of life stuff honestly. but yeah. where the story goes from now on, whether she succeeds in getting owned by some mythical dommy tgirl, or just continues to fail at everything and be a menace, or maybe even gets fixed/made worse, that's to be seen...

I can't choose whether I'm fetishized or not. but I can choose if I enjoy it or not so cis girl chasers pspspspspspsps c'mere I'm the best of both worlds

[laldupattewali]

I AM THROWING UP THE IMPLICATION BEHIND THIS????? HUEH

IS THIS THE FUCKING REASON FELIX DID NOT FUCKING IDEK WHAT TO CALL IT THANOSIFY??? KAGAMI THEYRE ALL SIBLINGS??????? AND THE FUCKING PARENTS ARE PUSHING THEM TOGETHER KNOWINGLY?????

also like major majorly fuck gabriel he deserves the cataclysm cant wait till the bitch is dead

HE STOLE THE RING FROM NATALIE????????????

why is this suddenly an episode reaction- eh well

wait- they both have rings???

this is gonna be causing so many issues for my poor boy

the hand gesture is sending me she is not the cat here sir

NO CUZ TIKKI FUCKING TOLD YOU WHATS THE POINT OF COVERING YOURSELF NOW MAAM

ASDFGHJKLKJHGFDFGHFD HE GOT CHANGED BEST MANS FR FR

LOOK AT HIM U GUYS BABY BOY SUNSHINE LOML COMRADE MAYO

them.

FOR A SECOND I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE PLACE WITH EMELIES STATUE KDKJNCNS BUT ALSO WHAT IS THE POINT OF BEING RICH IF YOURE NOT DOING THIS HES SO VALID FOR THIS LOML GEN

confidence suits her so well YES EVERY SINGLE TIME

she fucking beat his ass in that game btw

is natalie gonna get fucking akumatised istfg

kagami yaar meri jaan

i forgot how much i fucking hated lila

just here watching GABRIEL calling MARI the "toxic" one my gUY

i love kagami and how straightforward she is about stuff and communicates even tho she has issues

i also hate lila but idc enough about her i just wanted to say that cuz kagami is still naive in places and uk the fandoms about to hate her for believing lila when literally everyone else did too

so what im seeing here is kagami first got akumatised cuz of lila but mainly her feelings towards mari and is now again getting akumatised also cuz of lila but now her feelings are towards adrien?

like ive said before and will say again MAKE THEM POLY ATP FFS

also where tf is luka um- random but why exactly wasnt he with kitty section tf

AWWWW THEYRE CLOUD WATCHING

ok did marc or nath make those clouds cuz i-

i hate it here

that was surprisingly and a comparitively more straightforward lucky charm THATS SO 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌

sims moment fr fr

theyre such good friends stop

talking of which that beginning thing was really toxic having a partner i would NOT want my friends doing that atleast not on our first kiss

ALL IM FUCKING SAYING-

MAY I INTRODUCE U TO THIS LITTLE THING CALLED POLYAMORY

i am done. im glad they didnt kiss because they werent in the mood anymore i fucking hate gabriel and lila. kagami i hope you get the best and all that you deserve. i am lowkey scared for nathalie.

[naokyunnn]

Disciplining a bitch who’s all over your man

18+ themes!! alcohol, drugs, violence and shi

you’re kinda used to this, night clubs with sanzu with the other bonten boys and just drinking and swaying to the music, its all the same but tonight was different.

this girl had been all around sanzu ever since you go talk to your other friends on the other side of the bar, and how did you know about this? you’ve been eyeing them both— while also catching up with your friends.

the girl have her hands on his thighs— her face dangerously close to sanzu, who is out of his mind, his head thrown back and panting a little— with the strong substance that he’s been taking plus the liquor this isnt a first time, that when he’s high he confessed that whenever he looks at other woman he see your face and so you promise to always be on his side whenever he’s out of it.

and tonight is your fault— its not like you still cant stop this, so you hurried to their side, leaving your friends— but right before you could reach them the girl already kissed sanzu— high as clouds, he thought it was you.

“my, my……who’s this doll here akashi….haruchiyo…” controlling your anger, you smiled to her and sit on their table— she have this eyes, pretty wide in shock, oh how much you want her to cry

you’re well known as the bonten’s no.2 lover, everyone knows it.

and sanzu felt that bloodlust, he shot his eyes open and look at you— with the same expression like the girl

“what the— who the fuck are you-” he finally realized the situation, he wipe his lips aggressively— brows knitted together, his head back and forth to the both of the woman in front of him.

“strange, i thought you’re out of it— haruchiyo?” you smiled to him— he know this even tho his vision is funny and can’t almost process a thing, he knew he just fucked up. “i- i really am out of it, i thought it was you-” he respond, trying to be stable as possible because he’s that afraid to piss you off right now.

“that’s always your reason— got anymore new reason that i can believe? you’re funny” you shot back to him— letting your thoughts pour out of your mouth

“doll, sit properly will you? and listen—” you stopped midway, allowing her to do the things that you said to her to obey— you put your drink down and got closer to the girl. “what’s your name?” another question came out of your mouth

“m-misuri…..my name is misuri— maam…” she lowering her head down, probably embarrassed by the attention that she’s receiving— all of the people are looking at y’all direction— some even got their phones up.

“oh this girl is gonna cry” ran commented as he sips on his drink— sharing a gaze with takeomi who’s already standing up incase you got violent he’s there to stop. “i want a woman like her” mochi too commented “if the girly cried i’ll make money rain here” said koko— got everyone chuckling.

“misuri huh, misuri do you want haruchiyo?” you’re quick to grab her chin and make her look up “no— i- no i dont its okay, its my wrong i didnt know he had a girl” she explained— you, nodding taking her reason valid even though she lied— then you let go of your grip on her chin.

“okay— let me just tell you something” you said.

“that lips that you just kissed? those lips have been lapping on my pussy countless times— and if i see you ever again here you’ll regret it, go” shooing her away— she’s quick to excuse herself and now your attention is on sanzu.

“fuck— you know your power over me baby, im sorry okay? lets also leave—” he was about to kiss you put u slap his lips away, leaning over just to grab your bag “takeomi-san please drive me home” you smiled to the older man, he had no complaints about it so he just followed your way.

“man u fucked up big time, good luck to that” rindou teased earning a huff from sanzu obviously pissed on himself and to that girl who he thought was you “fuck off im leaving too, fuck this club” he grab his coat and work his way towards the exit— hoping that you and his brother are still on the way to the parking lot

sadly, you and takeomi already left that fast—“ahh she makes me crazy— its gonna be a long night for me” his head throb just by the thought of all the things you could do to him tonight, though he’s also excited about it i mean, he’s not afraid of a little pain plus he thinks you’re hot when mad.

if im not lazy i’ll make a part 2!!! (school is kraxy)

[cfrick]

No one asked but i wrote it so i'm gonna post it :]

My reasoning for every character's placement on this list.

Don't hit that readmore unless you are prepared for an insane amount of oc sex talk. There are 50 characters on this list and I get pretty in-depth for some. It's at lot.

btw all of these guys are on ToyHouse if you need more reference.

SMASH

LEDD- As both a monster fucker and a robot fucker, I would be remiss to pass up this opportunity. Yes i would smash the space fish through its robot puppet and id have a great time. It may have repercussions on our friendship but it would be worth it.

The Dark- Yeah I'd get the worm in on this. Make it a threesome. It's only fair, they are married. LEDD and The Dark approach me from across the bar and say hey we really liked your vibe. If it drives me insane or whatever it's fine.

Astaroth- That is a doll <3 <3 The demon shit is a bonus.

Nautiloid- I would treat them so gently. I want to pet their sleeves and stare into their big eyes. And then maybe I'd slowly take it apart.

Viroid- Opposite of Naut. I would destroy them sexually and with no caution. I want to pull on their antenna and see what happens :3c

Edisup- This one is baaarely included in smash. The fact that its a troll is doing most the work. This is just some guy in a hoodie.

Falool- I think in practice she'd be too chatty for me, but she is Very cute. I wanna kiss her big teeth.

Klipsi- Her horns.... 👀 maam may i brush your hair and listen to you talk about crystals.

Papili- Love their vibes. Also you know their place is chock full of blankets and shit. We're doin it in the pillow fort.

Sixxis- come here you stressed little man, let me pick you up by the horns and help you "relax". Let's test that flexibility.

Heir- That big fish tail <3 Also I know what they have going on down there anatomy-wise and its one of my favorites (almost like i gave them that on purpose :3). They might try to kill me but I can work with that. I'll hold my breath.

Herder- They're a sweetheart and a gentleman, strong but knows when to be gentle, the perfect farm boy type. They'd take me to their farm and we'd lie down in the hay and I'd be like man its pretty hot here in the nether we'd better take some clothes off ;] but they don't notice cause they're busy telling me about the names of each of their cows. This makes them hotter to me.

Em- Robot :]c I like their little fit. Sad that their broken jaw would probably electrocute me if I tried to kiss them.

Masquerade- funny wolf gentleman yayy. I would like to watch them tear their fancy vest off and howl. I'm not sure how soft the shadow monster fur would be and that does dock points in my mind.

Tricity- I think it would suck, but of all the demons in this story, they'd be the most bearable. They're hot but they would play cbat during :/

CanCan- PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. literally my hottest oc.

Boogaloo- They're not really my type, but I'd go for it. I'd poke some eyeballs.

Moshpit- PLEASE!!!! chubby emo boy save me <3

ShimSham- This is one of those where I don't know if they'd want me. But I'd shoot my shot. And if she accepted, I would scritch her behind the ears :3

Red- up there for sexiest sage in my opinion. The werewolf is the classic monster for monster fucking. There'd be so much blood involved. Most of it hers tbh. But I would let her bite me <3

Yellow- another strong contender for sexiest sage, just another brand of sexy. We'd first have to have a lengthy discussion on the ethics of her having sex in the afterlife when she was married in life. Is it cheating if you cant even remember your wifes face? But I think we'd come to a compromise and just make out a little.

Blue- I think their child-friendly programming would prevent them from being "sexy" in any classical understanding of the word. Also they would make so many funny sound effects and references the whole time. But I can work with that, I do love a robot.

Grey- If I was given the opportunity to have sex with Grey, I would NOT call it "smashing" for I have to much respect for her. I'd hold her like a delicate flower. I'd caress her like a work of art. Perhaps not the sexiest, but the most deserving of love and affection.

Ethan- I wanna climb that guy and put my fingers in his mouth. Let me pull those stitches pleaaase 🙏

Seth- That is Just Some Guy. Also don't think he'd be all that interested. But if he let me, sure, I'd show him a good time.

Pat- Let me at him. I'm destroying that thing. I'm bringing a seam ripper and I'm tearing his sawdust and hay guts out. Affectionately.

PASS

Rat- He has so many STDs. And normal Ds (diseases). Plus you KNOW he's just gonna lay there the whole time and make me do the work. That ancient demon pussy is NOT worth it.

Ollie- I'm so sorry.... I must admit..... I do not like bugs on me....... :( especially not the termites.

Dr. Anuran- They'd inject me with weird DNA during. Nonconsensually. Maybe if they'd ask it'd be okay, but they wouldnt, they'd just pull out a needle while I'm distracted.

Dr. Ihop- I have no issues with the effects of The Dark, I already agreed to fucking The Dark itself, though that would be a fair reason to decline. No, the issue is Ihop. Also I think if he saw me, he'd recognize me as his creator and have a panic attack or something 🤷

Xiphoid- I went over this in the prev rb's tags, but no, I would not let "Dr. Knife Hands" near me. They are so very hot, but they're too used to robots. They would kill me. Maybe if they were strapped down and I could do shit to them, it'd be okay, but that's still a little risky for my taste. I admit my cowardice.

Heavel- Too much baggage. Also I'm not into getting electrocuted.

Charit- I think they'd try to kill me? And not even in a sexy way.

Leehom- Not into muscles :/ The outfit is cute and the hair does something for me, but just not enough. Not my type.

Zplend- I don't think he'd let me, I'm not rich or a highblood. I would be interested in destroying that twink, but I know if I put a single scratch on them, I'd be escorted out of the establishment.

Rhyder- Eh. I might just be projecting my difficulties with drawing her, but she really doesn't do anything for me.

Lord- I am Not letting that thing bite me (the one time i will say this). The way their vampire shit works isn't even sexy. Also I know I put Herder in smash and didn't even mention it, but that fire hair blazeborns have is such a hazard. Yeowch.

Raven- Again, not into muscles. Also they're caked in dirt (not my thing personally). At least their hair is a little cooler than the other two's. Would maybe accept a hug from them.

Marvin- That is a normal human man, boring. Also he has some complex romance things going on, I'm not dealing with that.

Just- She would not let me, that is a fucking servant of God. I admit she's very pretty, but I think even if she agreed to it, she'd just berate me the whole time. No thanks, narc.

Mr. Moon- Not interested, but he is so very soft. Would looove to pet, but nothing more.

Songbird- would just talk about her partner the whole time.

Diddum- would just talk about their wife the whole time.

Sotries- No. "Why smash Em but not Sotries, they're basically identical" because Em doesn't talk. If I could shut this thing up, maybe, but he's such a downer. Also probably wouldn't let me, has a thing against humans.

Bones- Busy crying over her ex. Would love ghost sex, but it'd be weird :/

Wonder- TETANUS.

Begile- who put spiders. ON MY DICK. Also I think I'd end up haunted.

ChaCha- Maybe a controversial take, but I'm not into bird anthros. I'm not making out with a beak.

Sage (dead)- Honestly I think I just thought it'd be funny to leave her out of the sage smashing. Also maybe the sona thing, but that's more alive Sage.

Anne- She's busy going Through Some Stuff right now. I'll just come back later (see Grey).

Azzy- EWW no thank you. also linking this classic that is relevant here.

Sage (alive)- No. That is still, on some level, my sona from when I was in middle school. She may be an adult now, but I knew her when she was twelve.

Alfie- A little too into knife play for me.

CHILD

Moe- Moe's exact age is ?? But they technically still have the body of a 10 year old so that's weird. Would love to give them a pet tho, if they'd let me.

Day- Robot age is complicated, but she is the youngest of the bots in this story, and also she spends all her time hanging out with teens. So I'll pass.

Pavlov, Juno, Con, and Howe- human teens ages 14-16. That is a crime 👍

And that's all of them.

What did we learn from this experience? I think about petting my ocs a lot. I have a lot of guys who would stab me. And I should really draw more Ethan.

[original catcrumb]

I have made a tierlist for sorting my ocs. Sort them by any metric you choose, but please show me your finished list :]

[magnoliamyrrh]

hearing my professor say "sex workers" in class after and while literally and explicitely talking about nonwestern victims of sex trafficking using those terms like. im gonna eat my own tongue. im gonna scream so loudly and so silently it will burst my lungs. im going to become a black hole.

in general i find that term to be so fucking offensive bc it can only maybe apply to a very very small minority of well off economically privileged women who "choose" to do "sex work" (and even many of them talk abt feeling exploited - almost like prostitution is inherently expolitative wow) but. you know sometimes those "sex workers" are the only ones ppl rly picture, they dont picture street prostitution, hitckhiker hookers, sex trafficking, child sex trafficking, that the averege age of entering prostitution is 14, drug addiction, pimps, constant violence, etc

but. dear lord help me. in the context of literally taking explicitely about victims of "sex" trafficking in relation to poverty. to still have this postmodern god forsaken fucking nightmare so dug into your hear you say SeX WoRkErs;;; I ;;; I. Honestly im so offended. Its so fucking offensive. Like i almost wanna fucking cry. And she aint even white lmao shes indian like maam as a fellow immigrant please stop parroting the western bullshit i beg you. its so god damn fucking offensive and this bullshit is passed off as progressive and right and parroted by professors and taught as a given and preached and taught uncritically and then parroted by students and then. someone posts it online and some idiot reads it tells it to another idiot who tells it to another idiot. And then this insanity affects the whole westenrn "FeMinIsM" movement. And then, not only do I personally have to deal with a bunch of fucking idiots who have the gull to tell ME how the fuck I cant or can speak and how I should fucking feel when they dont got a single damn clue, BUT ALSO. this sort of cultural fucking idiocracy leads to real life impacts. Ala, western european states legalizing prostitution, thus the horrid rise of sex trafficking, child sex trafficking, child pornography, etc, of mainly balkan, roma, refugee, immigrant, poor, etc etc women. Ala, there was this article written by a Romanian prostitute in spain. She was complaining about how because of this sex work narrative now even more men come to prostitutes bc theyve bought this bullshit narrative of the "happy sex worker" so. now, they have to put all this extra fucking emotional effort into pretending like theyre enjoying what these men are doing to them and like they want it and all this shit. Which, let me tell you, its a whole lot easier to just dissociate when you get used to being regularly raped than it is to have to pretend like you fucking want it and enjoy it too. Something along the lines, these men want your soul not just your body, and this much worse...... And how, because of this, they also have to invest more in makeup and shit to look "well" which fuether just sinks them into the whole cycle which is quite hard to get out of. So. So.

As far as Im concerned. All the god forsaken postmodern nonsense that is propagated in western social sciences academica - has real life fucking effects. It has. The things written, the things discussed, the things professors say. Ive said before, that maybe postmodernism has some academic value (though we didnt need french people to be like, yo dude did you know multiple perspectives on life exist? inssne!). But. It doesnt fucking stay in academica. None of this bullshit stays in academica. And apart from this sort of bullshit not even being "feminism" and being inherently detrimental to the unity needed for social movements, inherently complacent, inherently antirevolutionary, inherently fucking REEKING of western individualism and selfishness up the fucking ass,,,,,,,,,it has real life fucking affects.

Westerners whove never fucking been through any of this shit sit in universities coming up with all these fucking theories but who pays the price. Who pays the god damn fucking price? Who? For their thought experiments? For these societal experiemnts? For these bullshit western ideas of freedom and progress and feminism? We do. My people do. We do. God fucking damn it