#and you actually only know like a handful out of thousands just in your field

[not-poignant]

Hello Pia, you recently shared a post about an idea "too good" to write. Could you maybe elaborate a little on that point? What does that mean to someone who appears to be quite skilled in creating stories and characters?

Sure!

I think everyone, at every stage in a skill they're honing, have goals they're trying to reach and skills they know they still need to work on. Even the folks who - from other people's perspective - seem like they (mostly) have it all together.

When I was working as an artist for example, I used inks and pencils at a professional level. I did natural history illustration at a professional level. I was very good at what I did and have sold the vast majority of everything I've ever illustrated!

But I'm still not skilled at drawing people (I'm getting better). I'm not skilled at oil paints or acrylics. And while some of my skills would transfer over pretty well (having a good eye, having a great sense of colour, having a decent sense of composition), it still remains that I have a lot to learn because being skilled in one thing is not being skilled at another.

And when you work like that and understand the craft like that, it gives you a different perspective. Folks who have zero ability in art might look at an artist's illustrations and simply assume they can easily transfer that to any medium or subject or technique, and folks who have more ability than the artist might look at their art and be like 'oh they're very good at animals and pencils but I've noticed they're weak on dynamic posturing and perspective.'

So where I'm at in writing is like this. I have a fair idea of my strengths, but I also have a fair idea of my weaknesses. There's certain very large scale ideas that I suspect I'm not yet ready for, because of either the scope of the plotting, or the depth of the worldbuilding. (I find worldbuilding easy. I find remembering all the details I created very hard).

There's also the fact that some of it is almost certainly fear. Like, fear of trying something new, fear of it going wrong, fear of making mistakes to get better. That absolutely is part of the journey, and the only way to overcome that is to get started and begin making the mistakes.

But no matter what level you're at, there's always a level you know you can't reach without more training and practice. The good news is a person doesn't always have to "grow" their skills relentlessly, just practicing what they love keeps what they do honed anyway. Like, I could stop here and keep writing the kinds of stories I write and do that for another ten years.

But I do want to keep growing, and keep learning new ways of telling stories, so...yeah, I do have story ideas that I know I'm not good enough to write (well) yet.

[alexanderwales]

Spells are a non-renewable resource. One a spell has been cast, it can never be cast again.

But thankfully, what counts as a unique spell is permissive, and very early on in the history of wizardry, wizards found many ways to use the arcane language to specify a similar effect even if the wording was different.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

There are only so many ways to call forth a beam of lancing light, only a limited number of methods of purifying food to make it safe to eat. Soon it became necessary for the wizards to start casting spells that weren't quite what they wanted: a beam of light that arced to the left, a purifying spell that added a bitter taste, some changes cosmetic and others very functional.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

Wizardry was divided into ages by the historiographers. The First Age was the age of plenty, when wizards could make minor tweaks to the spells and cast as much as they liked. The Second Age was the age of modification, when wizards were jumping through hoops and using methods with side effects. But the Third Age was the age of decay, when so many spells had been used that only the oddballs were left. It was impossible to cast anything even remotely resembling a fireball, not even one that hooked to the left and exploded with sharp green shards.

It came to be that few wizards could produce a spell on their first attempt. They would try, only to discover that someone else had already taken their idea and the spell does not work. They would try again, only to discover that their second idea had also been taken. Wizard battles, which had once been glorious light shows, were reduced to two wizards standing in a field trying to be the first one to stumble upon a spell that had never been cast before.

~~~~

Here are some plot hooks:

Wizards jealously guard their knowledge, fearful that someone will learn of a "seam" of untapped spells, but they also write down every spell they know to have been cast, to reduce their search space. Obviously this trove of knowledge is highly valuable.

The existence of spell "seams", which are really just collections of spells that work off the same cluster of discrete variations, mean that wizards tend to be very specialized. The Sheep Wizard knows eight hundred ways of turning someone into a sheep, because he's studied that area of the arcane language extensively, as well as historical precedents that have been ruled out. The natural enemy of a Sheep Wizard is, of course, another Sheep Wizard.

During the Second Age, a group of wizards get together to deliberately reduce the spell-space, largely in the hopes of reducing the capacity of wizard-kind for making war. Their work largely consists of sitting around casting as many fireballs as they can, depleting all options for everyone else.

During the Third Age, a group of wizards gets together and in the spirit of mutual cooperation begins to define "spell blocks", a collection of spells that a single wizard is entitled to and all other wizards agree not to use. When you become a wizard, you're given a thousand spells which are thought to still be valid, and will lose your license to practice wizardry if you cast any spells that are outside your block. This is difficult to enforce, rife with accusations and suspicion, but is thought to be better than nothing.

During the Fourth Age, a group of "wizards" (none of whom have ever actually cast a spell) are working on the arcane language in the hopes of a revival. As the age of hoarded knowledge has mostly passed, they're able to get their hands on many books that weren't previously available. One day, they invent a new form of specification that allows hundreds of thousands of new spells, re-igniting wizardry.

[jonnywaistcoat]

When writing, did you ever suffer from a fear or underdelivering or misrepresenting a topic? If you did, how did you overcome it? I enjoy writing but rarely bring it to the public out of fear that I am either not doing good enough or badly portraying the themes or aspects of what I write.

Absolutely, and on the one hand it's a very healthy fear - it prompts you to do your research and be thoughtful in how you write. On the other hand you've just got to accept that occasionally it will happen. Inculturation is a hell of a thing, and leaves us all with a thousand kneejerk preconceptions and perceptions of the world, some benign and some downright awful. And sometimes they crop up no matter how thoughtful you try to be. And you gotta understand that when it happens and people call you on it, you just have to take your lumps and learn what you can from it.

It doesn't help, of course, that the words you write are only ever half of what your audience reads: five people reading the same book are reading five different books, each filtering the text through a lifetime of psychology and experience. And they will find themes and problems in there you never even considered, and they will also find resonances and beauty in your work that you could never have foreseen.

At the end of the day, writing stuff thats meaningful to you (hell, writing anything at all) is a messy, bruising business, and anybody who tells you there are simple solutions or clear rules to follow is either lying to you or to themselves.

But you can't let it paralyse you. Its like if you're playing football and you're worried about falling over. It's a reasonable fear and you should do your best to avoid it, but occasionally it's gonna happen, and unless you want to spend the whole game just standing still in a field, you've kinda just got to get on with it. Just try not to be one of those writers who's always taking dives and... screaming for the ref to get a free kick? Hm. That analogy may have gotten away from me. I don't actually know much about football.

Point is, I'm aware that this isn't the most reassuring writing advice I've ever given, but yeah, its a messy, scary business. Just do your best. Be thoughtful. Be kind. And always do your research.

[cafterdark]

I don't think y'all truly grasp what fucking a god would be like.

Not only are they beings who can shape reality like clay, but they have such a massively different conception of time, morality, and existence that they become alien to you

For example, let's say you are a normal guy:

One moment you're looking at yourself in the mirror, the next in a quiet field. Before you even have a chance to react, a voice rips through your tissue paper body. It is multilayered, unable to stick to one voice, but is it smooth and alluring and almost feminine.

"I have chosen thee to be my temple." The voice says.

"W...who are you?" You stutter out.

The voice doesn't answer. For a moment you wonder if you've gone insane, then she begins. A thousand hands of light touch you, some delicate and precise, some wild and rough. They grab and grope and tear and claw and brush and pinch and slap all over, all at once. One hand grabs your short hair and forces you to look up in the air and she says:

"Let me show you your purpose."

You are launched in time to a temple, backwards or forwards, you don't know. It is lit by candles, showing that you're at the feet of a massive marble statue of a nude woman. The hands force you to your knees, all while feeling up your boiling body. You look up and only catch a glimpse of her beautiful thighs before you're unstuck in time again.

You feel yourself dragged back to reality. You're in a woman's body, being fucked by two other women in a dingy hotel. One hold the leash to a collar around your neck, the other holding your legs as she fucks you with her dick. The hands are still there and guide you, teasing each moans from your throat and buck of your hips. You've never felt this good ever as you start ascending the mountain of arousal. The collar chokes you enough for a momentary blackout

You're back in the temple, still looking up. You catch a glimpse of her hips, grabbable, with curves in just the right spots. You blink in awe and find yourself in another woman's body, actually no, a robot woman's body. You're connected to a machine made of tech so powerful you can't comprehend by series of wires and plugs throughout your body. A woman, dressed in lab wear smiles, kisses you, and starts the machine. You feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. The woman's smile widens, then a notification appears on your HUD

Sensitivity increased 150%

A soft glide teaches down your back and you feel your entire body kicks in response. You ascend further up, climbing step after step towards orgasm. Each touch the machine simulates makes you skip ten steps. The woman's laughs at you makes you skip more. The heat is unbearable, your fans spinning at Max speed, their noise filling the background. You get a warning notification about overheating and you're back at the temple.

The hands keep your arousal steady as the hand tilts your head further up still. You're enraptured by the most perfect pair of tits you have ever seen. The last bit of thought you we're holding onto is wiped away by their glory. But before you can properly worship them, you're thrown back in time.

You're in another temple, hazy and thick with the perfume of incense. You're in a priestess' body slick with oil, prepared to worship your goddess with your other priestesses. You look around and see the rest of your order staring at you and approach. After a long moment, you realize that you're the offering. The other women attack you with kisses and teeth and hands and nails in just the right spots. Each blow brings you closer to the peak. They pin you down and begin fucking you with their trained tongues and you blank out. You're so close now you can see the peak. You pray to just be allowed to reach it.

You're set back to the temple again and with one swift yank of your long hair, brings your eyes to the statues face.

It's you.

You don't know how you know. It looks nothing like you, but it's you. And you're gorgeous you can feel the orgasm coming, it's so so so so close now. The world stops, your body freezes.

You find yourself stuck one step before the peak, staring at your beautiful features and unable to do anything about it. You're stuck there for a long time. An hour? A year? A Millennia? A second? You don't know. But by the end, you're asking Her to let you cum. She responds:

"Do you know your purpose?"

"Yes... Goddess," you pant out. "As your temple... Where your followers... Worship you"

"Good Girl" She says.

Those two words bring you over the edge and you find yourself cumming harder than you've ever done before. Each convulsion rips away a part of your past life, what you ate for breakfast, your job, your hobbies, your name. If you could think through the tsunami of pleasure, you wouldn't care. Goddess will provide, she always will. But for now, you are drowning in devotional ecstasy.

After an eternity, you finally feel the afterglow bleed in. The hands let go and you collapse to the floor, letting the darkness consume you.

You wake up on the bathroom floor and groan. Was it really just a dream? You get up and look in the mirror and see you. Not the fake you that you wore before, but the you Goddess crafted, her masterpiece. You smile and dance in your body, that statue turned flesh, and laugh a beautiful laugh to celebrate and thank Her.

"You know your purpose and are trained in it," She says in the back of your mind. "Begin."

"Yes Goddess"

You leave the bathroom and begin your new life. After all, what's a god without her temple?

[p0orbaby]

Pitch Invader

summary: barça’s twelfth (wo)man

warnings: nothing

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.6k

-

There are certain truths universally acknowledged: gravity exists, toddlers are irrational, and the Putellas genes are a force of nature.

Today’s a big day: Alexia is playing one of the most important games of the season, and you’re in the stands with your two-year-old daughter, who, despite being the tiniest human in the stadium, possesses the energy of a thousand deranged squirrels. You are, in a word, nervous.

Your daughter, however, is anything but nervous. She’s strapped into her tiny jersey with Putellas scrawled across the back in letters that are nearly as big as she is. Her hair’s up in a ponytail, more like a pineapple sprouting out of her head, but you know that’s the only way she likes it. You’ve brought snacks, water, an iPad loaded with Paw Patrol, and a collection of those little rubber animals she’s obsessed with. You are prepared for every disaster except, apparently, the actual one.

The game kicks off. Your daughter’s glued to the action, her eyes tracking the players with a focus you wish she’d bring to bedtime. She’s screaming "Mami!" like she’s the head of the Alexia Putellas fan club. Which, let’s be real, she probably is.

You, meanwhile, are half-watching the game, half-watching her, and half-wondering when you’ll get the time to sleep ever again. The maths doesn’t add up, but then again, neither does the toddler logic you’re about to encounter.

In the 30th minute, the snacks run out. Which, you should have known, is a harbinger of doom. Your daughter, little genius that she is, finishes her juice box and immediately hurls it to the ground. She gives you the wide-eyed innocent look that usually precedes a request for more snacks or a sudden need to use the bathroom. But not this time.

This time, she leans in conspiratorially, whispering, “Mami!” It’s a statement, a question, and a declaration of war all at once.

“Yes, baby,” you say, patting her hand, thinking she’s just expressing her undying adoration for Alexia. You know what’s coming, but you’re oblivious. Blame it on the lack of sleep or the adrenaline of the match.

“Mami!” she repeats, louder, with more urgency. You’re too busy trying to figure out if she’s got another juice box somewhere in the black hole that is your nappy bag to notice that she’s been scoping out her escape route. You’ve taught her well: always look for the exits. You just never expected her to take that lesson so literally.

“Mami!” And before you can register what’s happening, she’s off like a shot, little legs pumping with the determination of someone who’s just discovered that the world is a lot more fun when you’re not stuck behind bars. Literally. Because she’s somehow squeezed through the railing and is now sprinting toward the field like she’s got the ball and is gunning for the goal.

There’s a split second where time stops. The crowd noise fades, the players blur, and you’re left watching your tiny daughter make her bid for freedom. Then, the panic sets in.

“Oh my God, she’s on the pitch!” you scream, leaping to your feet. Your heart's in your throat, and your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, but you move. You have to. Alexia is going to kill you. No, worse, she’s going to tell your mother.

This is it. You’re going to die. Not because your daughter’s about to get trampled by a bunch of world-class athletes, but because Alexia Putellas is going to murder you on the spot for letting this happen.

“Don’t move!” you yell, as if your two-year-old is going to suddenly develop a sense of self-preservation and stop in her tracks. You leap over seats with a grace you didn’t know you possessed, and suddenly, it’s you versus the grass, a race you never wanted to be a part of.

The security guards, bless them, are as stunned as you are. They’re used to dealing with rowdy fans, not rogue toddlers. One of them starts to move, but you’re faster. You vault over the barrier like an Olympian, not caring that you’ve just flashed half the stadium. Your brain is a mess of conflicting priorities: get the child, avoid the cameras, don’t trip, for the love of God, don’t trip.

“Mami!” Your daughter’s scream pierces the air as she beelines for Alexia, who, by now, has spotted her and is having her own heart attack on the pitch. Alexia freezes, eyes wide, mouth open in a soundless yell. You can see her future flash before her eyes: headlines like “Star Player’s Toddler Takes Over Match” or “Tiny Terror Halts Game, Becomes Internet Sensation.”

The ball is at the far end of the pitch, and most of the players haven’t noticed yet. But one of the defenders has. She’s staring, and then she starts laughing. You can’t blame her. You’d be laughing too if you weren’t about to faint from the sheer absurdity of it all.

Finally, you reach your daughter just as she reaches the center circle. You scoop her up, her little legs still kicking as if she’s going to make a break for it again. She’s giggling, thinking this is all the best game ever, and honestly, you’re too relieved to be mad.

Alexia, however, is sprinting toward you like she’s about to dropkick someone, probably you, into the next century. You flash her an apologetic smile, holding up the wriggling toddler as if to say, “I found her! Look, I’m a hero!”

Alexia doesn’t look like she agrees. Her face is a mix of horror, relief, and something that might be love if you’re lucky. She reaches you, breathless, eyes still wide as saucers. “What… the… hell…?”

“I took my eyes off her for two seconds!” you pant, defensively. “You try keeping up with her!”

Your daughter, oblivious to the chaos she’s caused, throws her arms around Alexia’s neck and says, “Mami, I won!”

Alexia softens instantly, her expression shifting to one of pure adoration. She holds your daughter close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yes, you did, mi amor. You won”

The crowd, which had been holding its collective breath, erupts into cheers and laughter. You’re pretty sure you see a wave of camera phones aimed in your direction. Great. You’ll never live this down.

But then Alexia grins at you, and it’s that grin—the one that says she’s both exasperated and completely in love with you—that makes all of this worth it.

“I’m going to kill you,” she whispers, but she’s smiling, and you know you’re in the clear.

“Totally fair,” you agree. “But can we do that after the game?”

With a resigned laugh, Alexia turns to walk you both off the field, your daughter still happily babbling about how she’s the best player ever, better than even Mami. And you? You just can’t wait to tell her how this day was 100% her fault when she’s old enough to understand the concept of consequences.

As you reach the sidelines, you catch the eye of the commentator, who’s openly laughing now. “And that, folks, is what you call a family affair!”

You wave awkwardly, knowing you’re going to be a meme by the end of the day. But as you hand your daughter back to her seat, watching Alexia return to the pitch with a look of determination that’s all business now, you can’t help but feel a rush of pride.

Sure, you almost derailed an entire match. But on the plus side, you just might have discovered a new sport: Toddler Sprinting, with a side of Parental Panic. Gold medals all around.

[actiniumwrites]

hii may i request a hurt/comfort scenario with kazuha and alhaitham where reader feels insecure about their looks >< no need to specify what they feel insecure about specifically but they just don’t think they’re pretty enough for charac !!!

worthy

synopsis: you don’t feel good enough for them. they beg to differ.

characters: kazuha, alhaitham x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, insecurity, crying, some humor, not proofread

notes: thanks for the request, anon! hopefully you enjoy this, i really liked how kazuha’s turned out. alhaitham was so difficult to write for this prompt though 🥲

Kazuha:

You don’t know when it started. When, one day, your brain decided to make the shift from feeling the luckiest in the world to feeling utterly trapped. Maybe it was the way people looked at him, or maybe it was the way you never felt deserving of him in the first place, but either way, it didn’t matter.

It started in little things. Most days it just consisted of you wallowing in your reflection anytime you caught a glimpse of it. A passing moment of painful recollection that makes you feel less than deserving of him.

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend blurts out randomly. It isn’t like him, you think. Kazuha has never been the type of person to waste his words so suddenly without thought. His words are usually sugar coated and flow gently in the wind so as to not evoke harsh emotions.

The question makes you visibly pause. Quietly, you clasp your hands together to stop them from the inevitable shaking. Your shoulders seem to droop a little further and he hates the way your bottom lip dips into a depressing tremble.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale defeatedly, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth.

“What for? I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong,” his gentle white brows furrow. You hate how concerned he looks. Couldn’t he just be angry for once? At least then you wouldn’t feel so insane.

You bury your face in your hands, trying to shield yourself from not only him, but the entire world. It constantly feels like you have prying eyes on you, tearing apart each and every feature on your body. And, just as you predicted earlier, the tears you’ve become long acquainted with begin to make their way to the forefront of your eyes until they’re too heavy to hold.

Kazuha gently pushes your hands aside, instinctively placing them in your lap so he could wipe away your sadness. Still, you hang your head against your aching chest and let the pain seep out through your voice, “Don’t you hate it? The way I look? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bother me? No. Of course not. I love everything about you. I could gaze into a thousand sunsets and the view still wouldn’t be as alluring as you are. There is no amount of stars in the beaming night sky or the deep red of fresh autumn leaves that could compare to you. Every time my hand aches to write a piece of poetry, it longs to write about you.”

You bashfully look away, trying to hide the smile appearing through your frown as you gaze out into the field next to you. Tenderly, Kazuha tilts your face back toward his as his ruby red eyes stare intensely into yours. You look back and forth between them before laughing quietly through your tears.

He hums proudly, shaking your shoulder a bit before leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips, “and don’t try to deny it. You know every word I speak is nothing but the truth. I would never lie to you, honestly.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, understanding now that your boyfriend is right. You’ve read his writing enough to know that whatever Kazuha found to hold truly beautiful was indeed actually beautiful. Because, in a world full of subjectivity, his word is like the law.

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham is practically flawless in all ways. It’s something you’ve realized long before you began dating him — began being friends, even. Aside from his harsh personality, he’s handsome, intelligent, a good leader, and so much more.

It makes you question why he’s even with you. Most of the time, you only joke about it with him and sometimes he even laughs about it. But there are the times where it isn’t just a passing comment or silly thought in the back of your mind, but rather, a growing virus that spreads a dangerous, lingering toxin throughout your body.

“Is something the matter?” Alhaitham nudges your shoulder quietly from beside you. He’s nice enough not to embarrass you in front of the group, shockingly. Despite being his partner, he didn’t often spare you of his “cruelties.”

Your eyes snap to his and out of the faraway place of insecure thoughts you were trapped in for a moment. Silently, you nod and return to listening to the group of people presenting a project to Alhaitham for approval at the Akademiya. His eyes continue to linger on you for a second, not buying any lies you might make up to make it seem like you’re okay. As apathetic as he may be, Alhaitham has indeed found a place in his heart to care about you.

But you can’t help but feel insecure as you watch them. All of them are so attractive and everyone in the room looks so drawn to them, eager to get a word in after. It makes you wonder what Alhaitham even sees in you. A man like himself, he could have anyone in the world.

“I could.”

“What?” your head snaps to him in terror, whispering a little too harshly, “did I say that out loud?”

“No. I can read minds, so I know what you’re thinking,” your boyfriend says blankly. You stare at him in sheer panic before the tiniest of smiles breaks out on his face, “I was joking.”

You frown and shove him ever so slightly away from you, “Yeah, well you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Alhaitham takes one step closer to you than he had before, assuming the position he was in before you pushed him away. Only this time, he gently loops his arm with yours, something he only does when he feels a little more like showing affection. He isn’t the most physically affectionate, but you know what he means by it.

“I’m serious. I know that look on your face,” he whispers from next to you before turning to actually face you, “I could have anyone in the world, so why do you think I chose you?”

“Out of pity? I mean, look around us. I’m not exactly the best looking here,” you mumble, attempting to fight off the growing lump in your throat. So maybe Alhaitham isn’t so perfect, because you sure as hell hate the way he shows comfort.

He sighs irritated, “No, you idiot. Pity is a form of emotion I’ve never felt for anyone, not even you. You’re above the rest of them, so don’t doubt it for a second. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now.”

“You’re so mean, you know? You don’t have to put other people down just to make me feel better,” you say, fighting a smile. He really should’ve taken a class on human emotion back in his scholar days.

Alhaitham turns away from you now, facing the presenters and ignoring your defense against his words, “I only speak truthfully. You are the only person in all of Teyvat that I want. You can choose to believe it or not, but that’s factual information.”

He’s right. Alhaitham hates lying because he sees no point in it. It’s something he’s told you a thousand times, maybe even more.

“Will you say it then?”

You still don’t believe him anyway.

He quirks a brow, “Say what?”

You hold onto his arm a little tighter, afraid he might slip away from you. That bit of doubt still lingering in your mind, “That you think I’m…you know…?”

Alhaitham sighs but gives in regardless. Staring you dead in the eyes with no room for any semblance of a lie, he whispers quietly, “Yes, I think you’re the prettiest person in all of Teyvat.”

[muffinpink02]

I don’t want to rush you at all! But I’m so excited for she’s a bully on your WIPs, throwback pics of Alexia in her brunette era…

I was too, but I'v kind of falling out of love with it. I think cos I'm worried about the age thing, its school but their 18, can you guys let me know? I can make it college. This is the only thing I've written for it, so if I never get round to it you can at least have this. Also I made her blonde, but as its younger her I can change it to brunette for the future, if I ever finish it.

Smut 18

You rush down the empty hallway, you can’t believe you’ve actually been given detention. You never got detention.

It wasn’t even your fault! But of course Mrs Green didn’t want to hear your reasoning, she saw what she thought she saw, not caring about the story behind it. You never did feel like she liked you much. 

You passed the grey lockers, eyeing the banners for the upcoming school dance, not that you cared, you won’t be going anyways. You’ll say it’s out of protest but really no one will ask you.

You quickly race down the creaky stairs, finally on the floor of the detention room. It’s weird for you to be here, especially when it's empty, this side of the school always gave you the creeps. Maybe because it was the older section, the hallways were smaller, the paint was peeling off the walls, even the smell was weird. 

You glance at your watch, luckily you’re not late, Mrs Green would have had a field day with doubling the already 20 minute detention. You’re about to turn the corner when you hear a faint cry.

You stop dead in your tracks, what was that? You take a second to listen, but there’s nothing. It's silent. You shake your head, you must be hearing things. You go to continue your journey. Wait! There it is again! You stand still, listening carefully, the crying sound continues, it’s definitely a girl. 

The cry gets louder as you look around the corridor of rooms, then you hear it again, it starts to sound more like a moan. It sounds weird, you hear it again, it sounds like someone’s crying but it’s muffled and sounds, well, it sounds like sex.

“No fucking way.” You whisper to yourself. 

You take another look around the empty corridor as your curiosity takes over, you find yourself tiptoeing towards the sound, not really thinking about what you're doing. The sounds of crying definitely aren’t what you thought, it's a mess of moaning and panting, the cries turn into whimpers, just from the sound alone you feel your face heating up. 

You take a peek through the small glass window, you can see a girl on her back on the desk, her long dark hair hanging off the side. Your eyes pop open. Her legs are open, you can see someone’s kneeling between them, clearly eating her out. It sends a jolt to your clit. You’ve completely forgotten about your detention. You can see someone’s between her legs but you can’t see either of their faces.

You feel bad watching but you can’t bring your eyes away. It’s when the dark-haired girl moves her head, you realise It’s Stacey, the girl who makes every day a misery for you. Suddenly the whole scene makes you uncomfortable and not at all hot. She’s probably being fucked by one of the rugby boys, at least he’s breaking the stereotypes and is actually eating her out.

That’s until you see a blonde ponytail, it’s not a boy, it’s a girl eating her out. Your jaw drops open, you watch as the blonde's head is bobbing up and down, Stacey’s hand clutches to her hair. You feel a wave rush to your core, your heart starts to race a little.

“Fuck, Ale.”

What? Surely not?

Then you see her, Alexia’s head rises from between her legs, you can see her face is wet. You’re glued to your feet as you watch Alexia wipe her mouth with the back of her hand like she’s done this a thousand times, you almost forget you’re not watching a porn video but two real people. You can feel your own breathing getting heavy as you watch on, your knickers are becoming slightly wet.

But you can’t look away, though you should have. Hazel eyes catch your own. You feel your heart catch in your throat, you want to move but you can’t, and Alexia doesn’t show any signs of stopping.

Fuck.

The girl is staring right at you, you need to leave, you should stop but you can’t It’s like she has a spell on you.

Stacey moans, unhappy Alexia's stopped. The blonde doesn’t even glance at the girl she’s pleasuring, her eyes are on you as she brings her fingers to Stacey and plunges her fingers deep inside the girl. Stacey lets out a deep moan, her back arches off the table. You would be shocked at the sheer lack of care they have, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Alexia sends you a smirk as her fingers start to push in and out of Stacey. Your eyes are still on each other, you can feel your hands getting clammy. The girl moans are getting louder, Alexia finally glances at her. She grabs Stacies tie and pushes it into her mouth, making the girl muffle her moans. Alexia brings her eyes back to you, she smirks again as she lowers her head back between the girl's legs all while her eyes are on you.

[triasticalwarlock]

More Adam brainrot with me(blood lust addition)-

Can I just talk about the size difference that you and Adam have in blood lust?

Look, just look. If adams hand is that big compared to lutes how big is it compared to yours? Like, your hand is just fucking engulfed in his, your hand is probably big enough just to wrap around his finger. A single finger, our hand must be the size of a peach or something. But the size difference just scratches the little itch in my brain to perfectly, so. :/

I know I've said this before, but imagine cuddling this dude. At our size in the story, if he picked you up, you would like a baby in his arms. He definitely likes to just grab your face and squish it, might shake you around lightly to. He would totally play with your ears, bending them and shifting them around, it helps him when he's stressed (he'll also squeeze your boobs/ass but we don't talk about that).

How he would just tower over you, he must have to bend his neck and back at a awkward angle just to look at you. If he got to his knees, he would probably still have to look down a little bit. He would let you hang onto his horns, sit on his shoulders, also letting you swing on his arms. Imagine him giving you his helmet, the mask overlapping your heads and a little bit of your shoulders. He is a little disappointed he can't preen your wings, but he doesn't hate them at all, likes to play with them actually, like your ears. And not only will he lend you his helmet, as well as his robe. And he'll let you keep it, he probably has more than a thousand of those things in his probably-house-like-closet.

Just like- LOOK

HIS HEAD IS SO MUCH BIGGER THAN LUTES. YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO BARLEY WRAP YOUR BODY AROUND IT. IF HE LAID HIS HEAD ON YOUR STOMACH, YOU COULD JUST- HUDHWMSJHXNDKFHFHDY

On to more sinister aspects-

I have full expectations that Adam is going to lose his shit at some point in this story, just lose his fucking mind. More than likely during the extermination(s). Just go apeshit. I personally think that Adam is going to be a fast burn even with you being a sinner because 1, the creator themself said they are shit at writing slowburn. And 2, in the SC (special chapter) they say, 'you've already met all the characters and they've all fallen into your hands', or something along those lines. So I think that Adam going to get obsessed pretty quickly. But back to what I was saying; he's more than likely going to lose his shit during the extermination because he can't reach you due to the others keeping him at bae, doesn't help that you're more than likely in the hotel it self because you know these motherfuckers are not going to take the chance of you getting hurt.

So he just starts shooting his holy light every where, screaming; 'get the fuck out of the way!' or, 'im going to kill all you motherfuckers!'. He just wants to take you 'home', and his pissed off because there's these little 'failures' (from what he calls them) keeping him from his main goal, other than killing all the residence of the hotel. But imagine if he does get to you, that he had lute hold vaggie out of the way and let Adam sneak in. You want to run up to him, he's your 'friend'. But you know that something isn't right with the way he's calling for you; his voice slightly shaking and desperate sounding, like he can't stand another second without you in his field if vision. His glowing gold eyes crazed and wide, like he can't let anything escape his friend of vision. Can't miss the chance of seeing you. And when he finally finds you, he grabs you, picking you up and forcfuly hugging you. Trying to soothe your cries, getting distressed and worried as you didn't calm down. Covering your mouth as he sneaks away to a portal to heaven, some how escaping everyone's field of vision. And as he stepped into the portal, he knew, he had you.

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

Hangry

Word count: ~2,000

Pairing: Steve x reader and Bucky (platonic), no pronouns used

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff. Mild cursing.

It's been a year and a half since my last posted works! I'm VERY out of practice 😅 I'm trying to work on some smaller prompts on my list while I get myself back into writing and continue working on the Loki blip in the universe prompt. It's not my best, but I hope you enjoy in any case!

This was based on a Prompt for Steve x reader as well as a prompt where reader and Bucky bug Steve while he's making a public appearance.

“Tell us, Captain, sir - how did the Avengers manage to track down the villain’s hideout this time?”

“Well, good sir - we have state-of-the-art technology that allows us to track electronic signals from thousands of miles away…”

“Ugh, he is such a ham!” you muttered to Bucky under your breath as you observed Steve from a distance. “We’re never going to make it to the store if he keeps stopping every time a reporter tries to chat him up!”

“Steve can’t resist bragging about us,” Bucky chided, nudging you with his elbow.

“Yeah, well… some of us are hungry!”

You huffed and folded your arms across your chest in annoyance, trying to catch the reporter’s eye with your scowling face, but she was far too enamored by the star-spangled captain to pay you any mind. How had a simple grocery run for ice cream turned into a twenty-minute interview with the press??

“I swear, I’m gonna go drag him away from that reporter by the ear if he doesn’t stop talking in the next 60 seconds,” you grumbled.

“Why do that when we can mess with him instead?”

You turned to look at Bucky, who had a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Go on…”

He smirked, shooting you a wink. “Watch and learn.”

You watched silently as Bucky meandered casually toward where Steve stood speaking with the reporter and her photographer. Steve was none the wiser to his friend approaching from behind.

“… but the serum isn’t the only thing that makes us heroes. It takes a whole load of grit and determina-HAY-tion-!”

Steve flinched as his best friend subtly reached up and pinched his side mid-sentence, effectively silencing him. The captain recovered quickly, though, chuckling nonchalantly as he flashed Bucky a look. He continued on with his sentence after that, refusing to acknowledge what just happened.

“Wait - Steve is ticklish??” you whispered incredulously as Bucky returned to your side.

“Very. Why does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just assumed the serum eliminated weaknesses like that.”

Bucky chuckled. “Nah - if anything it made it worse.”

“Oh-ho, I’ve got to try this for myself!”

You quietly paced up behind the blabbing soldier, pretending you were casually walking past to avoid drawing attention from passerby. As you stepped by him, you reached out and swiftly dug your fingertips into his ribs for less than a second. Steve choked on his words and whipped his head around instinctively. You ducked out of his field of vision and prodded his other side.

“Excuse me,” Steve requested politely, turning around as nonchalantly as possible to find you standing behind him with a guilty grin on your face. “Can I help you?”

“I just came to remind you that we have somewhere we have to be,” you stated sweetly.

“Yes, but it isn’t urgent,” he muttered.

“Oh, I think you’ll find it to be very urgent, actually,” you whispered, shooting him a cheeky wink. With a long, drawn-out sigh, Steve turned to the reporter.

“My apologies, ma’am. Duty calls.”

You saw Bucky clap a hand over his mouth and nose to cover the snort that burst from his nares. Trying hard not to openly roll your eyes in front of the reporter, you nodded in the direction of the grocery store and began marching purposefully toward your destination, with Steve following in your wake.

“You two are infuriating,” Steve grumbled once you were out of earshot from the reporter.

“Excuse me - I just want to go get my ice cream and head back home to eat it,” you countered. “You’re the one who decided to schmooze with the first person who asked you about your superpowers.”

“I’m just trying to maintain good public relations. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Ugh, no. I hate talking about myself.”

The three of you bickered amicably the entire way to the store. It hadn’t ended by the time you’d made it back to the tower kitchen and dropped your grocery bags on the counter.

“I’m just saying - it wouldn’t kill you to wear a hat or something to hide your face from reporters when we’re just trying to go to the store,” you griped, shrugging your sweatshirt off your shoulders and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen stools.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try to be friendly to strangers every once in a while,” Steve retorted.

“Excuse me - I am a very friendly person! I’m just selective about it.”

“Friendly as an angry porcupine, sure.”

You gasped indignantly. “Are you saying I’m sharp with people??”

“You’re just a little… prickly.”

“Ooh, now that’s an insult,” Bucky hummed sarcastically.

“You’re just as bad, you know. Forget porcupines - you’re like a venomous sea urchin or something,” Steve shot back at his friend. You snorted.

“Steve… you’ve really got to work on your teasing skills,” you chuckled. “A ‘sea urchin?’ Really?”

“I could just take your ice cream”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

Steve held your gaze for a moment, eyes darting briefly to the bag on the counter between you with the ice cream inside. You lunged for the bag handle, but Steve predicted your move, snatching it out of your reach before you could get a hand on it.

“Damnit, Steve!! Give it back!” you whined, rounding the counter to swipe for the grocery bag. He turned his back to you, maintaining a barrier between you and the prize. “Bucky! Help me out here!”

“Nah, this is pretty funny to watch,” Bucky chuckled, snickering as you swatted at Steve’s arm.

“Yeah but your ice cream is in there too!”

Bucky sighed. “You make a fair point. Steve, buddy, give it back.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve been just as much a pain in my rear today! Why would I give it back to you either?”

You gasped dramatically, catching Bucky’s eye. “Are you gonna let him talk to you like that?”

“‘Course not!”

Without warning, Bucky lunged at his super soldier friend, tackling him to the floor. The bag of ice cream slipped from Steve’s grasp in his surprise, which you quickly snatched up before he could regain the wherewithal to take it back. With a triumphant shout, you tore the cover off your pint of ice cream and dug a spoon out of the drawer, swiping a scoop off the top layer and shoving it in your mouth with a contented sigh.

“Mm… finawwy,” you mumbled with your mouth full. Swallowing, you pointed your spoon accusatorially at Steve where he was currently trying to shove Bucky off himself. “You know, you’ve been a pain in my rear all day. You deserved this - it’s nice to see someone teaching you a lesson.”

“You two are pains in my rear every day!” Steve huffed as he grasped at Bucky’s shoulders and pushed.

“You did not just say that!” you gasped dramatically.

“Yeah, how dare you!” Bucky added, pinching at Steve’s side for emphasis.

“Bahah- Bucky, don’t start this,” Steve warned as he grasped his friend’s wrists to still his hands.

“Ooh! Wait!” You set your ice cream and spoon down on the counter beside you. “I want a go! Bucky, hold him there for a minute.”

“Whahat??” Steve laughed in surprise, a nervous edge to his voice.

“Sure!” Bucky offered, ignoring his friend’s protests as he maneuvered his wrists from Steve’s grasp and swiftly pinned his arms to the floor a few inches from his sides. “Quick, before he gets free!”

"On it!" You crouched down beside the super soldiers as Steve tugged against Bucky's grip. Without waiting to listen to Steve's protests any further, you began to scribble your fingertips into his exposed sides and ribs rapidly. You heard a thump behind you as Steve kicked his heel against the floor in protest, now pulling more frantically to escape his best friend's hold.

"HA-HEHEY! Cut it ohout!!"

"Nah. I deserve a little reward for tolerating you all day," you snickered, prodding at his belly. "Hey, Buck - where should I get him next?"

"Ohh, definitely under his arms," he suggested with a smirk. You pinched your way up his ribcage before slotting your hands into the narrow space between his biceps and his upper ribs. Bucky adjusted his grip to pry his friend's arms away from his sides as he attempted to clamp them down to limit the space under his arms.

"BUCKY!! Let me go-HO-HO this I-HI-INSTANT!" Steve demanded.

"No can do, buddy. I'm enjoying watching you get taken down a peg."

"DAHAMNIT BAHARNES!!"

"Oof, language Steve!" you teased, digging your fingers into the soft spot under his arms. "Where else is he ticklish?"

"The spot on his stomach right under his ribs - that'll really get him good." Steve nearly managed to slip his wrist from Bucky's grasp, but he quickly shifted his grip once again. "Better do it quick - I can't hold him much longer."

"Say no more." You pulled your hands free from under Steve's arms and danced your fingertips across the muscle-clad skin of his abdomen just under his ribcage as Bucky suggested. He threw his head back with a heavy stream of laughter at your touch, arching his back against the floor in desperation. It was only another moment before he finally succeeded in escaping Bucky's grasp.

Steve sat up swiftly, a playful but menacing gleam in his eye as his gaze immediately landed on you.

"Oh-ho, shit!" You scrambled to get to your feet to make your escape, groaning defeatedly when you felt a strong set of arms wrap around your waist and yank you backward.

“You really think I’d let you get away with that?” Steve asked rhetorically as he tightened his arms around your midsection to hold you in place.

“W-wait, Steve, we can- ahaha nohoho!” Your protests were cut short as Steve’s fingers kneaded into your sides. “Bucky! Hehehelp!!”

“Nuh-uh. You’re on your own, my friend.” The infuriatingly unhelpful super soldier waltzed over to the counter to retrieve his ice cream, planting himself atop the countertop and digging in while observing the two of you wrestling on the floor below.

“USELEHESS!!” you cried, attempting futilely to pry Steve’s hands off your sides.

“Nice try. You should know better than to mess with me by now,” Steve teased. He loosened his grip slightly to scratch at your belly. A rumbling laugh erupted in his chest when you screeched in protest and doubled over, suddenly much more frantic. “Oh, what’s this?”

“DAHAMNIT STE-HEE-HEVE!” Your grip on his hands was far too weak to even budge them now - not that you’d had any hope of succeeding before your muscles had weakened from his tickling. You leaned more heavily into him as you succumbed to laughter. He responded by lowering you down to lay on the floor beside him, freeing both hands to dart randomly around your sides and stomach. Weakly, you tapped your palm on the floor beside you in surrender. Steve threw in a few more exceedingly ticklish light scratches along your belly before relenting in his revenge.

“That’ll teach you,” he teased with a grin, offering you a hand to help you off the ground. You grasped your abdominal muscles that were now aching from laughter.

“I-hi… I’ll probably still mess with you,” you admitted breathlessly. Steve made a noise of protest in his throat and reached over to pinch your side, but you swatted his hand away. “Noho more! You’ll kill me!”

“So dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. “Here - here’s your ice cream. Hope it melted while you were tormenting me.”

“Harsh!” You snatched it from his hand and stuck out your tongue, then turned to look at Bucky. "And you - you were zero help, thank you."

"Hey! I held him down for you! I was very helpful, in my personal opinion."

The three of you went right back to your friendly bickering session, as though nothing had happened. Any outside might wonder how you could all be friends, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

[nctstar]

Hiii I dont know if you still take requests but really like your blogs and I want to ask can you please do a jaehyun x female reader where the reader id pregnant and jae is needy but she isn't confident about her pregnancy body so he tell her it's okay and all you can change it as much as you like but like just keep the main idea pls thank youuuuu

thank you! here you are :)

be my forever only.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.1k

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! descriptions of pregnancy and pregnancy body, reader is insecure about her appearance, kissing, pregnancy sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clitoral stimulation, breast play, penetrative p in v sex, (pretty vanilla actually who would have thought for me lol), lots and lots of praise and use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, darling, love etc.), profanity, jaehyun is sort of a soft dom (but nothing too crazy)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: we all need a jaehyun like this i think

Nothing was going right today from the start.

Your hair was having a field day – dry as hay on the ends, greasy near your part line, making it near impossible for any style to look half-decent. Lips chapped and skin peeling, you swallowed a lump of acidotic nausea that threatened to spill past your lips for what felt like the dozenth time today. You must have gone to the bathroom to let trickles of urine leak out of you, never feeling quite relieved but at the same time, not being able to resist the urge each time. You felt swollen, like your body was bursting at the seams of your hot, tight skin.

And to make matters worse, today was the hottest day of the year.

“Jae,” you called out breathlessly, trying not to sound too exhausted as you lowered yourself down onto your bed with shaky arms. “Can you come here, please?”

The sound of your husband’s steps calmed you momentarily, a wave of contentedness that was swiftly replaced by anxiety as you watched his form materialise at the frame of your bedroom door.

There was nothing wrong with Jaehyun – in fact, he was perfect.

Too perfect.

“You alright?” His shirt hung open dangerously, revealing the tantalising lines of his toned stomach and the edges of his underwear, pants slipping off his slender hips. “Oh, wait, wait.” He rushed over to you, the smell of his cologne overtaking you, making your nausea spike tenfold. “Jae, that’s okay. That’s not why I called.” You willed the wave of nausea away before speaking again. “Is the AC on? It doesn’t seem like it is.”

“It is, love. It’s freezing,” His face was lined with worry, even as he tried to laugh it off. “You feeling sick again?”

You wanted to shake your head, say no, but your head moved on its own accord. As you tilted your head up and down, tears flooded your vision. “Sorry.” You tried to whisper, but it came out a whimper, and immediately you felt Jaehyun squeeze his arms around your body, soundless.

You felt the nausea rising again, and you shoved your arms against his, the cologne smell attacking you once again. “No, Jae, don’t. I’m gonna be sick again.” As soon as the words left you, you gagged, head flying down in response. You felt his weight lift off the bed and heard the sound of your bedside vomit bag crinkle even before he held it up towards your face. “It’s okay. Do you need to? Just go if you need to.” He rubbed your back rather harshly, but it felt so nice, like a thousand-year-old itch finally being tended to. You sobbed, one hand stubbornly wiping away every tear that dared rolled down your skin.

“Hey, hey. Are you hurt? Do you want me to call someone?” You furiously shook your head. “No? What do you need, baby? I can help you.”

Between gasps for air, you managed to get out. “I feel so nauseas, but nothing will come out. I feel heavy, like a lump of shit, or a water balloon. And I feel so ugly!” You cried harder, simultaneously because you felt ugly and because of how silly and superficial that sounded coming out of your mouth. Jaehyun’s rubs on your back transformed to gentler strokes, and he spoke softly. “Why would you feel ugly? You’re carrying our child, my love. You have never been more beautiful.”

You scoffed. “Really, Mr ‘Hottest Man in Korea?’” The headline you saw this morning still flashed before your eyes, making you feel ashamed that you were this perfect man’s wife. And then, even more ashamed at the fact that you could even think about yourself like that.

This had never been a problem for you. You were far from a model, or, at least, what the current beauty standards considered the pinnacle of feminine beauty and perfection. But it never really phased you, even as you stood next to your conventionally perfect husband, watching him stand next to other seemingly flawless human beings. You never cared about any of it. Yet, today, the dangerous concoction of your pregnancy hormones and the TikToks you saw this morning about wives saying their husbands found them less attractive after pregnancy, threatened to push you over the edge.

Jaehyun furrowed his brows, looking annoyed. “What are you talking about, _?” Seeing him annoyed snapped you out of your tearful mood, and you tried to stand, teter tottering under the weight of your belly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.” Pulling you down gently, Jaehyun slid his hand down your arm and let it rest on top of yours as you sat back down. The burning in your legs from the effort started to ebb away, and you sighed. “I know it’s stupid.”

“No, of course not.”

“No, but it is. Like, I mean, why should I care how sexy you think I am? That’s not even why we got together…I mean, of course I care, but, like, I think I’m decent, like maybe a five-“

Your lips were met with his, cutting you off, the smell of his hair now clouding you. You breathed into the kiss, but your body felt stiff, refusing to relax. Jaehyun pulled away, grazing the edges of his lips on your cheek. “I can’t believe you think so lowly of yourself, _. You’re gorgeous. You always have been.” He began to travel his face down to your neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin, making the hairs on your body stand on end. “Jaehyun,” you tried to whisper, but it came out like a loud moan, and you immediately blushed. He chuckled, wrapping his long fingers around your waist. “Do you want this, my love? Are you still feeling alright? Let me take care of you, then.”

Your body felt hot, butterflies erupting in your stomach from a sudden sense of feeling cared for, of being loved so deeply. It wasn’t necessarily that he wasn’t sweet like this always, but something about the idea of letting go of your anxieties and having your husband take the lead like this made you feel floaty with desire. “O-okay.” As soon as the breath left your lungs, Jaehyun stood to make his way in front of you, bending down on one knee. You giggled. “I do, Jae.”

He smiled, his eyes turning into half circles. “Are you losing your memory too, baby? Or is it just your marbles? Thinking you’re not sexy, you’re not beautiful. What nonsense.” He huffed, and you cringed physically, not used to being so lovey-dovey like this. You can’t say you were hating it, though.

Placing his hands on your knees, you reflexibly separated them, making him chuckle. “So eager for me. No, I want you to shuffle back on the bed, darling.” Muttering an oh, you begin to shuffle yourself back using your arms, feeling Jae push on your knees to help. “That’s it. Good girl.” Your stomach turned at his words and his voice, knowing how much you loved his soft praises as much as his mean dominance.  

Your knees fell apart naturally, the weight of your belly now pushing down onto the lower part of your spine, making you wince. You fought back a groan, but Jaehyun was already onto it, pillow in hand. “Let me pop this under your back, darling. Do you wanna lay like this? Is it comfortable?” Grunting, you both manoeuvred the pillow to fit snug under the curve of your lower back, throat dry with anticipation. “It’s okay, baby.” You let your head fall back, your shoulders and neck aching from looking at Jaehyun’s head from this angle. “That’s it. Lie back and relax, _.”

As soon as Jaehyun’s hot tongue nestled inside you, your legs recoiled naturally, stopping as your thighs hit the plush of your belly. “A-ah.” Jaehyun shushed you, the vibrations spreading through your core and deep inside you, making you moan. As he worked his tongue in circles, you tried to reach down you touch him, or yourself, fighting the urge to cum quickly, but also wanting to so bad. His long arms stretched out to pin your wandering hand into place. “Did I say to move, hmm?” He sped up, head bobbing up and down, the wetness of your juices now spreading to the inner skin of your thighs, making you cry out. “Fuck! Oh my god, Jae, don’t stop…” you babbled, falling apart at a rapid rate.

“I’m gonna cum!” Your head thrown back, you felt your legs shake, and Jaehyun pull away, making you audibly whine. “Shh, be patient, pretty girl. What do we say when we feel good, hmm?” Hair in his eyes, you watched him tower over you, one hand still between your legs. You were surprised at the way he was soft and gentle, but also keeping up with the domineering that always sent you into bliss. His fingers pushed lightly onto your clit, but it was enough to send electricity down your spine. “Mmm, Jae, so good, so good…” Your lips met his, tongue exploring the crevices of your mouth as you moaned. His other hand squeezed around your right boob, eliciting a shaky whimper from you. “Please, I’m…ngh, thank you, thank you…” He hummed in satisfaction, rubbing your clit faster as he kissed the space between your boobs, meeting your skin as you arched your upper back off the bed in pleasure. You cried as you came, squeezing your eyes shut hard until you could see stars. Jaehyun pressed a kiss to your forehead, your vision blurry as you opened your eyes. “Beautiful, my love. So perfect.” You began to cry again, letting him peck the thin skin of your face and neck, his hot breath caressing you with every kiss.

“M-more, please…” You tried to squeeze your legs together, for the smallest bit of relief, but the weight of your protruding belly stopped you. You whined in frustration. “Fuck, please, please, you’re so good…want your cock, please.”

“So polite, my pretty girl.” Jaehyun pressed a kiss on top of your belly, making you suddenly shyer than ever. “Who am I to deny my baby, hmm?” You nodded fervently, making him chuckle once again, sitting back on his heels to align his hard length against your leaking hole. As he pushed himself inside, the stretch felt overwhelming, all encompassing, and your toes curled, fingers clutching the sheets in vain. “O-oh, fuck, so sensitive…” Jaehyun halted his hips, high kneeling to watch your face closely. “Does it hurt, love?” You shook your head, but he still slowed down, one hand holding yours and letting his thumb stroke the skin lazily in an attempt to soothe you. “F-fuck, you’re sucking me in so well, honey. Wish you could see this perfect pussy right now.” You replied through a series of wanton moans, eyes rolling already at the feeling of being stuffed full, the pressure on your clit orgasmic. “I’m gonna cum again, oh, fuck.”

You and Jaehyun groaned in unison as you squirted all over his cock, egging him on to start thrusting deeper and faster. His cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls, your pussy screamed with sensitivity, but you felt too good to stop. “Nghhh, ah, please, please…” Tears streaming down your face, Jaehyun grabbed your hand and kissed the top messily, his hips still travelling at an unfaltering speed. “Perfect, so perfect. You wanna cum again, princess?” You babbled incoherently, but he kept going. “Say it. Say you’re beautiful, and you deserve to cum.”

“I, ah, hmm, wanna cum…” Your voice shook, and Jaehyun spread his legs wider, pulling both of your ankles up towards his shoulders. The new angle hit right on your g-spot, the sudden switch making you scream. “Oh, fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet. That wasn’t good enough.” Jaehyun thrusts were getting sloppier, messier, and you could tell he was close. Your face felt hot, the rush of blood in your ears almost deafening, all organised thoughts leaving you as you felt your body reach another climax. “Ah! Fuck, gonna cum! Deserve it, please…I’m b-beautiful, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your whole body jerked involuntarily, your vision momentarily going black as you came hard and fast. You heard Jaehyun’s voice first, then his lips on your ear, one hand stroking your face and another your thigh. “Shhh, good girl, baby. Let me fill you up so good, baby.” Only then could you feel that he had finished inside you, his hot load viscous and threatening to spill out with the tiniest movement. “You okay?”

You needed a minute to regain your composure, but you used whatever strength you had left to nod, mumbling. “Was so good. Wanna sleep, please.”

“Okay, honey. You relax, I’ll clean you up.”

You latched onto him, bringing him closer to you, the smell of his body making you want to cry in relief. “I…love you, love you, Jaehyun. Please, s-stay.” He kissed you, muttering I love you’s back as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

[herstoryheaven]

Pablo Gavira x Reader: A Thousand Miles To Love

Request: Could you do a fic with Gavi x reader, where they have a long road trip from bcn to seville (his hometown) and there’s loads of fluff??

Reader: Female

Word count: 2082

Average reading time: 7 min 35 sec

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The sun was still hiding beneath the horizon when you and Pablo loaded the last of your bags into the trunk of his car. The early morning air wrapped around you like a cool, crisp blanket, a perfect complement to the excitement bubbling in your chest. As you watched Pablo carefully arrange everything, ensuring every item had its place, you couldn’t help but smile at his focus, the way his brow furrowed slightly, the way his lips pursed in concentration. He had always been like this, careful, thoughtful, and utterly dedicated to making sure everything was just right.

Finally, after a few more adjustments, Pablo seemed satisfied. He turned to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement and something deeper, something that made your heart flutter in your chest. “Ready for our trip, mi amor?” he asked, his voice carrying the kind of eagerness that you couldn’t help but respond to.

“Ready as ever, Pablo.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but the excitement slipped through, making your words sound lighter, brighter.

Pablo’s grin spread across his face, a boyish smile that made him look even more handsome in the soft morning light. He closed the distance between you in two quick strides, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart, and it made you feel so safe, so loved. He leaned down, his lips brushing your forehead in a kiss so tender it made your breath catch. “You look beautiful, hermosa. Even this early in the morning.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves around you. “You’re just saying that because you love me.”

Pablo tilted his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “That’s exactly why I’m saying it.” His voice was a whisper, a murmur that sent warmth flooding through you just before his lips captured yours in a kiss that was soft and slow, but full of promise. It was the kind of kiss that made time stop, that made everything else fade away until there was nothing but you and him, standing there in the first light of day.

When he finally pulled away, it was only far enough to look into your eyes. “After you, princesa.” he said, his voice playful as he opened the passenger door for you, his hand guiding you into the seat with a touch that lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

You settled in, feeling the softness of the seat beneath you, the warmth of Pablo’s gaze still on you as he jogged around to the driver’s side. He slid in beside you, and the car roared to life, the sound breaking the quiet of the early morning as you began to leave the city behind. Barcelona slowly faded in the rearview mirror, the streets growing quieter, the buildings giving way to the open fields and rolling hills that stretched out before you. Slowly leaving the familiar behind to visit Pablo’s hometown, Seville.

The first part of the journey was filled with light conversation and laughter, the kind of easy banter that only comes with knowing someone so deeply, with loving them so fully. The car’s radio played softly, a mix of songs that had become the soundtrack of your relationship, each one bringing back memories of late-night drives and stolen moments.

As the miles rolled by, you noticed Pablo kept glancing at you, a small, mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkled with that familiar teasing look, the one that always made you blush, even after all this time.

“What?” you asked, your voice filled with mock suspicion as you feigned innocence, even though you knew exactly what he was doing.

“Nothing.” He tried to keep a straight face, but his grin broke through, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I just love looking at you. You’re even more beautiful in the morning light.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the sun climbing higher in the sky. You reached out and playfully swatted his arm, trying to hide your blush. “Keep your eyes on the road, Romeo.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the car with a joy that made everything feel right in the world. “Don’t worry, mi vida. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

A comfortable silence settled over you after that, the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward but was instead filled with a sense of peace, of contentment. You watched the scenery pass by, the fields of wildflowers and vineyards that stretched out on either side of the road, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for this moment, for this man who had become your everything.

Every so often, Pablo would reach over and gently place his hand on your thigh, his thumb tracing soothing patterns on your skin. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you, about the connection that had grown between you over the months, the kind of connection that felt like it was meant to last forever.

As the morning turned into afternoon, the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything it touched. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers, carried in through the open windows, and you sighed contentedly, leaning your head back against the seat.

“Feeling tired?” Pablo’s voice broke through your thoughts, filled with concern.

“A little.” you admitted, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of his voice wash over you. “But I’m happy. This is perfect.”

“Why don’t you rest for a bit, amor?” he suggested, his tone soft, as if he was trying to coax you into it. “I’ll wake you when we’re closer.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness, but you shook your head. “I don’t want to miss any of this. Besides, I love talking with you.”

Pablo’s expression softened, and he reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and affectionate. “I love talking with you too, mi amor.”

The miles continued to pass by, and you and Pablo fell into a rhythm of sharing stories, memories from your childhoods that made you both laugh until your sides hurt, and dreams for the future that made your heart swell with hope. The more you talked, the more you realized just how deeply connected you were, how perfectly your lives had intertwined in a way that felt so natural, so right.

At one point, you decided to play a game of “20 Questions.” taking turns asking each other random things. The questions started off light and silly, making you both laugh, but as the game went on, they became more intimate, more revealing.

“If you could spend a day anywhere in the world, with anyone, where would it be and who would you choose?” Pablo asked, his eyes focused on the road, but his attention clearly on you.

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Right here, with you. This is all I need.”

Pablo glanced over at you, his eyes filled with so much emotion that it took your breath away. “You always know the right thing to say, hermosa.” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

“Only because it’s true.” you replied softly, reaching over to place your hand on his thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin through his jeans.

He covered your hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I feel the same way, princesa. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, with you.”

As the sun began its slow descent in the sky, you suggested stopping for a break when you spotted a picturesque overlook. Pablo agreed, pulling the car into a shaded spot. The view was breathtaking, with endless fields of sunflowers stretching out before you, their golden faces turned towards the sun. The scene was so beautiful, it almost didn’t feel real, as if you had stepped into a painting.

You both got out of the car, and Pablo immediately wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close against his chest. “This is perfect.” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your back. “It really is.” you whispered back, your voice filled with awe.

You stood there together for a few minutes, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment, the world seeming to fade away until there was nothing left but the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

After a while, Pablo turned you around in his arms, his hands resting on your hips as he looked into your eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with so much love that it made your heart ache. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, Y/n. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a lump forming in your throat. “Pablo, I feel the same way. I’ve never been happier than I am with you.”

He smiled, that boyish grin you loved so much, and leaned in to kiss you. It started off slow and sweet, but soon the kiss deepened, filled with a passion that made your knees weak. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands roamed up and down your back, holding you tight.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. “I can’t wait for you to meet my family.” Pablo said, his voice husky with emotion. “They’re going to love you.”

“I hope so.” you replied, your voice shaky with emotion. “But as long as I have you, I know everything will be okay.”

“It will be, mi vida. I promise.” He kissed you again, softer this time, but just as full of love.

With your break over, you both got back in the car, Pablo driving on with renewed energy. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape. The closer you got to Seville, the more excited Pablo became, pointing out landmarks and telling you stories from his childhood that made you laugh and feel even more connected to him.

By the time you reached the outskirts of Seville, the city was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon. Pablo turned off the main road, taking a route that led through a quiet neighborhood with narrow, winding streets lined with white-washed houses and vibrant bougainvillea. Finally, he pulled up in front of a charming house with a small garden out front, the kind of house that felt like it was filled with memories, with love.

Pablo turned off the engine and took a deep breath, his excitement tinged with a bit of nervousness. He looked over at you, his eyes searching yours as if looking for reassurance. “This is it, mi amor. My home.”

You smiled, reaching over to take his hand in yours, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palm. “I’m ready, Pablo. Let’s go meet your family.”

He squeezed your hand, his expression softening as his eyes filled with love. “Thank you for being here with me, Y/n. I love you.”

“I love you too, Pablo.” you whispered, leaning in for one last kiss before stepping out of the car.

Together, you walked up to the front door, hand in hand, ready to take on whatever came next. As Pablo rang the doorbell, you felt a rush of anticipation, but also a deep sense of contentment. This road trip had been more than just a journey to Seville, it had been a journey that brought you and Pablo even closer, a journey that had shown you just how much you meant to each other.

When the door opened and you were greeted by the warm smiles of Pablo’s family, you knew that this was just the beginning of many more adventures to come. And as you stood there with Pablo by your side, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have found someone who loved you as deeply as he did.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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Requested by: Anonymous

[ganondoodle]

you know, i had a totk thought (uh oh)

soemthign thats really bothering me about the whole "actually, ganondorf didnt like the guy appearing out of nowhere marrying a hylian and just saying yep das our kingdom now and we can mine it barren under your nose and also i got laserbeam pebbles that i totally wont ever use on anyone come join me or die just bc of all of that but mainly bc the guy brought some weird tech with him that he dont like" - thing is that ......... we see almost not a single tech thing in the past (and for that matter see nothing of the oh so perfect and peaceful paradise hyrule was before big evil desert man didnt want to join our paradise- like what is the point about making the whole point of the game be -we need to restore hyrule to this paradise it once was- when you dont even see it or get to care about anything of it)

it might sound like a weird hangup but no really, the most we see is like two servant constructs, thats it, when they 'prepare for war' im pretty sure all you see is some lightly dressed ( ... is it just me or does their whole get up look alot like native american/other indingenous people too ... i still dont know how to feel about that- kinda adjacent to some of the sonau armor, the battery one i think??, also having that look...) hylians with spears, where the heck is all that tech?? is it implied to be all down in the mines hollowing out the underground (for no real reason either bc .... theres only two sonau left and no one else seems to want use nor need the tech otherwise there should have been more traces or soemthing left of it -unless it all just magically appeared out of nowhere in mostly prime condition while all shiekah tech jsut vaporized for bs non reasons just for it to be in tha game but oh dont you see its always been there lmao- so whats the point really????)

or up in the sky as most battle constructs are and they cant get them down in time bc *gestures vaguely*

or is it intentionally kept out of view bc idk seeing an army of robots on raurus side he can send out on a whim might not make him look as oh so good and perfect as they want him to look when he already got laserbeam pebbles (most of which hes been hoarding until ONE falls into hands not under his control) ?? like it just ... feels weird?? so many battle constructs that can even be a threat to link are jsut fully functioning strolling around in the present still, why wouldnt you want to use any of them to battle gan and if they DID why wouldnt you show that (no the 3 second unicorn cutscene doesnt count bc its just .. gan and his monsters isnt it) ?? (also ... why isnt there a big like battle ground , like fine you dont have to animate an army of monsters and robots clashing but... wouldnt it be cool to have you discover a giant flat plain in the underground (that magically got put under ground like gan just decided to stroll down there to get sealed lol) and its the only mostly empty field in the game littered with thousands of monster bones and dead constructs intermingled?? just to give it all a bit of weight?? evidence that it happened?? cool ass discovery????)

(also also i cannot let go of ganondorf apparently being sooooo anti tech but then clamgan uses the shiekah stuff??? shouldnt he also be against that then or is that suddendly fine bc- oh woops sorry, forgot clamgan is actually just something, not connected to gan at all actually, i mean why else would miasma turn into malice only to turn into miasma again haha none of that is connected actually what is a calamity anyway? also im sorry to bring this up again but i just cannot let go of the ppl in the present being so obsessed with using sonau tech in every part of their life now- they just lived through an apocalypse of a barely understood strange tech but CLEARLY this other even less understood strang tech is not dangerous at all lets make CARS OUT OF IT and what theres no danger in miasma and that tech existing at the same time LIKE SOMETHING ELSE BEFORE THAT IDK SEEMS LIKE A BAD COMBO--- oh sorry forgot that ceased to exist in both the world and peoples minds for *gestures vaguely* plot reasons- why why why are monsters mining the sonanium?? they dont even work with the yiga no that is also completely disconnected we dont wanna draw and interesting connections after all- whats the point if it means nothing but to be a loot box for the player-- actually, so much of totk is just a so built around throwing you into a box of toys with no substance to it- listen i know games are kinda like toys but if it doesnt make sense and offers you nothing interesting to think about even slightly whAT IS THE POINT)

[malum-forev]

Oooh can I get some fake-dating?? Either fratboy or mafia Bucky? Like they come to her rescue and pretend she's with them, saving her from some unfortunate situation!

Hi hiii this is my first time writing Mafia Bucky! Let me know what you think!

 You hated the term man’s game. Absolutely loathed it. Men with their pea sized brains thinking they’re above people of the opposite sex, when in reality the only thing floating around their heads are the words dick, tits, ass. On an infinite loop. 

When you went into the field of law, you thought with hard work and perseverance you would crash the glass ceiling. Paving the road for women like yourself wanting to make it. What you didn’t realize is that what is supposed to be glass, turns out to be concrete. A miles thick concrete ceiling, completely impenetrable. 

You smoothed the fabric of your pencil skirt and impatiently tapped your foot on the floor. The wooden chair outside the DA’s office was becoming an annoying reminder of your future, bolted down outside the door. It felt like you’d always be outside the door.

The frosted glass door opened revealing laughter coming from the inside. Your boss’ booming fake laugh made your skin crawl.

“You better work on that swing by Friday, Kent.” Your senile old boss said. It should be illegal to have fossils like him still on the job, making decisions while they still think women can’t vote. “I’ll leave you with my assistant, she’ll get all the details about the Moranes case.”

“Paralegal.” You corrected even though you knew it would go in one ear and out the other. 

The district attorney, a man older than your father, raked your body. From your pointed heels to your appropriately buttoned silk blouse. “Where have you been hiding this one?”

He all but drooled at the sight of you, a disgusting trait men thought was a compliment. 

“I keep her holed up at the office, but I’ll let you have her if you send the case over to us.” Your boss “joked” but once he saw the stern look on your face he held his hands up. “I’m just foolin’ around. Can’t make a joke anymore without getting a slap on the wrist from HR.”

“I know a few things about that.” The DA laughed, pointing at his older secretary. “How’d you think I got stuck with this one?”

The interaction made your skin boil, there were actual men who thought women’s only purpose in life was to get them hard. And you, sadly, had to put up with it on a daily basis. 

Your boss soon left, hoping you would comply with anything the DA told you to do. Anything to get the job done, was his mentality. 

“How about we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?” The DA’s sleazy smile sent a shiver through your spine.

You looked around the almost abandoned hallway. “I just need to take some notes on the file so, here is fine.”

The district attorney was quickly becoming annoyed. “I wasn’t asking, actually.”

You opened your mouth to try and keep him calm but you felt a hand travel through your lower back and set itself on your hip. You looked down to find a tattooed hand with gold and silver rings adorning the fingers. His knuckles were shades of pink, purple, and blue, sporting a couple of barely healed gashes. If someone were to ask you who you thought this person was, you’d never in a thousand years guessed the correct answer.

“She wasn’t asking either, Kent.” A deep rough voice appeared.

You looked up to find the one and only James Bucky Barnes, head of one of the most prolific and notorious mafia families in New York. 

“B-Barnes.” The DA stuttered. 

“I’m sure you can find a way to make my girlfriend’s life easier.” Bucky stared the man down, his dark blue eyes burning holes through his body. 

“Girlfriend?” He asked, scared. 

“Girlfriend.” Bucky barked. 

The DA gulped. “I’ll have my assistant send her office the files.”

“I’d appreciate if you drop them by yourself.” Bucky lip twitched upwards. “As a personal favor to me and the ladies down at the Spin Top.”

The district attorney furiously nodded, his eyes widening at the words spoken. Bucky was dangling incriminating information like it was no big deal.

Bucky pulled you closer to his side, his hand never leaving your hip. A gentle but firm grip. He waved his gloved hand in a shooing motion. “You can leave now Kent.”

The district attorney tripped over his feet and quickly closed his office door behind him, locking it. 

With a chuckle, Bucky released you. He took a cigarette from his suit’s breast pocket and lit it up.

“He thinks a door can protect him.” Bucky scoffed. “Pathetic.”

“You’re not allowed to smoke in here.” You said, your voice strong.

Bucky bit his bottom lip to contain a smile, you were pure fire.

He looked around the almost vacant office, any person who was there had already turned around. Some were even facing the wall, anything to not make eye contact with the mob boss. “I don’t see anyone telling me to put it out, princess.”

“I’m not some sort of damsel in distress, just so you know.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

Bucky’s eyes never left yours, he cocked his head to the side. “This could work, you and me-“

You laughed. “You and me? There is no you and me, it doesn’t exist.”

Bucky walked towards you until your back was flush against the wall, he placed his forearm over your head, trapping you underneath him. His intoxicating smell filled your senses, woody, smokey, citrus. A combination that wouldn’t work on anyone but him. 

“By the looks of it, you need someone next to you so they take you seriously.” His words were slow and controlled, completely opposite to your body language. Your chest heaved, making the space between the buttons over your chest expand. Anyone else would have looked down but Bucky, he kept his eyes on your face. “I can be that for you. One outing with me and you’ll have every judge, every lawyer, everyone at the palm of your hand.”

“What’s in it for you?” You whispered, your throat suddenly became dry. 

For the first time, he let his eyes travel downwards to your lips. A calloused finger ran from your collarbone to your jaw. “I need someone sweet and innocent, just like you, to help me take over everything. You see, every family needs a head. And there is no head without a neck. But no one seemed to interest me, that is, until I laid my eyes on you.” 

“It would have to be for show, everything would be fake.” You whispered, closing your eyes for a moment to bask the sensation of Bucky hand on your neck. 

Bucky chuckled. “I’ll put on the greatest show, I’ll even have you believing my every word.” 

Pleaaaseee be sure to comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Remember, one comment = one kiss on my forehead! &lt;3

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

[qinluofu]

⊹﹒blue lock boys + younger sibling headcanons ♡

sae & rin itoshi & barou shouei with a gn!neglected reader || heavy themes ! be aware masterlists ^o^ > part 2

SAE & RIN knew you were alive, breathing, eating. and that was it. they were aware of a third sibling in the family but they just, didn't have time to care. it's like getting mindlessly lost in the midst of a field and only being able to focus on a ball.

when you were born, it was alright. during the ages of when you were younger, they took care of you. they took you out, showed you football, this & that like normal siblings - its the total opposite to the now them who only glance at you and don't say anything.

your parents were so busy with your brother's schedules and their fights that they just, forgot about you. they see you, they feed you they call on you sometimes, that's it. most weekends while in the house, if they're not talking about sae they're talking about rin, it's always their achievements and never you.

even in school, your classmates often refer to you as "sae's sibling" or "rin's sibling", somehow it's never your name. when you meet someone decent and go out with them, they end up talking about soccer and your brothers, not your likings, your personality, your hobbies . it was just - "sae" and "rin"

alot of the times, you lay in bed, thinking about a life like this. everything around you is luxurious, its top tier furniture, the air-con is always on, you wear thick and nicely hand-knitted clothes, you never lacked anything materialistic - but somehow, having everything felt like having nothing.

it's not like you didn't try to mend your relationships. you tried to text sae and rin. rin being in blue lock never responded and sae being busy also never responded. there were a few times in social media that you would see some headlines about sae and rin and you would smile and like the post.

one day, there was a post about sae hugging his manager and you don't know why, but you started crying. it was your brother, who you haven't had a proper conversation in years, thousands of miles away, giving an actual hug to someone who was way further, way longer, way distant from family blood.

did he even care about you ? why couldn't it be you who was in his arms? does he even know you exist?

you couldn't feel anything, and maybe it was because you couldn't feel anything that you felt everything. years upon years of neglect from everyone suddenly bursted in you - everywhere hurt , but you couldn't feel it. you just knew it hurt. your stomach was hollow, your heart dropped, you were sweating.

the next day, everything felt alright again, like it always had been.

BAROU thinks about you alot, actually - but he's not gonna let you know that. it's just that he refuses to act out on his instinct, he thinks its embarrassing to show you affection. especially since he's the king of football. he shouldn't be dwadling on you too much, right?

he never really thought outside of that vicinity, never really noticed how your parents always seemed to shine when talking about him to relatives but hesitate a bit when talking about you ; never really noticed how it was all his achievements hung on the fridge and not your drawings or crafts ; never really noticed about how you were so alone and looking sad while sitting in the benches waiting for him to finish his practice.

he thinks what he's doing for you is enough, just thinking about you enough. he doesn't need to show you any affection, doesn't need to comfort you or reassure you, that's for others to do. he doesn't notice how his resting face is basically a scowl. so whenever you try to look for him, he always somehow seemed, mad. you never knew why, ever since from a young age, the only conclusion you could think of was that maybe he disliked you.

you told your parents about that thought but they were quick to dismiss you about it. claiming it was alright - it was ok. even your parents were weird, it was like they didn't seem to care about you as much as they cared about your brother.

that was a long time ago, maybe now you were slowly realising that the way your family treated you wasn't normal. walking back home from school, your brother long gone to the blue lock project, you see a pair of siblings sitting down on the bench outside of a mini mart, sharing an ice cream and laughing.

the scene was relatively normal - your feelings ? no. you suddenly felt a wave of sadness come over you, but why ? was it because barou couldn't laugh like that when you were around ? or was it because you haven't felt anything but emptiness in awhile ?

you could feel the tears slowly start to fall as you panic, suddenly crying in public would be embarrassing. you ran all the way home, opening the familiar door and walking inside the house. everything was the same, except for the fact that you realise you need to get out of this place, soon.

[qqueenofhades]

https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/751102464296665088

*Puts on old man costume*

"Back in my day, we used to cheat and procrastinate like real people! With copious amounts of bullshitting and pulling things out of our asses at the last minute! Secretly sneaking in little things written on our hands or in our phones fer tests and shit! Heck, maybe we didn't even NEED to cheat because it turns out we actually knew stuff, we just didn't know we knew stuff until our last minute papers got a good grade anyways because our shit actually had some analytical relevance borne from deep in our psyche, but we just didn't realize it because we had massive cases of imposter syndrome where we thought everyone else was smarter than us, while overlooking our own abilities!

Now these newfangled ChatGPTs are just taking the easy way out of the easy way out! What's up with that!? These new procrastinators and cheaters make us look even worse than we already do, cuz they ain't even doing the work of not doing the work! And y'all can't even say that you can learn from it in the art of bullshittin', cuz that's not even YOUR bullshitting, it's someone else's bullshitting mangled up with hundreds of other peoples' bullshittin'!

Feh, kids these days!"

*Takes off old man costume*

Addendum: old man anon griping about cheating with ChatGPT does not endorse cheating or procrastinating. I'm just being silly.

I mean... at least with regular old-fashioned cheating, also an academic tradition since time immemorial, at least you're engaging with the material somehow. You are putting your own two god-given eyeballs on that and using your own ickle brainikins to do SOMETHING with it, even if that something is morally questionable. We've all seen the elaborate cheat devices where someone managed to engrave all the exam answers onto a pen or a pair of socks or whatever -- at least that person went in and used their initiative to remember information SOMEHOW, and to do it under their own power. Now, yes, it will get you into trouble, and yes, there are plenty of conversations to be had about accessibility and the fact that not everyone learns by sitting in a room and being lectured at and then having to regurgitate it all from memory with no notes in a final exam, which is why there is a whole thriving field of educational pedagogy and best practices and how to accommodate students with different learning styles and etc. etc. I sometimes see AI framed as "uwu accessibility issue :(" and like... cmon. There are educational professionals who spend their whole lives and careers working out how to shake up the traditional learning format and present material in an engaging way and teach students how to think and write and otherwise be academic and rigorous. And like, if you're voluntarily in this space, then we presume you WANT that instruction! Not to just sit around and whine about how we aren't catering enough to you personally and this means you should get to use the Bullshit Plagiarism Nonsense Machine to never ever think at all!

Now, I will say that the naivete around AI is not only limited to students. I was in a department meeting yesterday where the literal associate dean of the college seemed startled to discover that AI might not be a) totally reliable b) able to totally replace lesson planning and evaluation/grading by an actual human professor (after several faculty members pushed back, shall we say, briskly on the idea that it could). Plenty of people still think it can just magically solve Academia (or /insert field here), and those are not just limited to clueless undergraduates. And yes, undergraduates are clueless in different ways and for different reasons in every era of the world; it is likewise an academic rite of passage. But I still cannot for the life of me understand why you, in ye olde benighted 21st century, would pay tens of thousands of dollars and/or accrue it in debt to go to college, to learn nothing, to whine and blame your professors for "not designing assignments well" (when again, every remotely decent educational professional agonizes for eons about how to do a good job of this for all kinds of students), to insist it is your entitled right to use the Bullshit Plagiarism Nonsense Machine, and then presumably be /shocked pikachu face/ when you don't learn anything and spend your time posting idiot takes on the internet. I mean. The state of critical thinking is /waves hand/ Already So Bad, and the AI craze plays directly into that by fulfilling the insidious fantasy that the hard things in life aren't actually hard and don't have to be learned by patient and careful practice. And that is just. Yeah. C'mon.

(I realize this was a funny/lighthearted ask, but yeah, we can consider this one old man turning to another old man on the park bench and making a joke, and the other old man bellowing YOUTH THESE DAYS!!! and scaring all the pigeons and/or passersby. Ahem.)

[that-disabled-princess]

Prompt from @hoothalcyon: "the stages of runaan opening up to ethari enough to start to unmask"

The quickest way to a man's heart is infodumping.

Tags: neurodivergent ruthari, disabled ruthari, getting together, first dates, infodumping, tiny bit of angst

~~

Ethari said yes to a date with him. Ethari Ethari. The craftsman apprentice. 

Runaan paces his bedroom as he chooses his outfit, a pile of discarded clothes slowly growing on his bed.

Style over comfort, wouldn’t want to make a bad impression. The knee support sleeve will do today instead of the brace. Don’t forget your compression gloves.

Don’t stim. Keep your hands still when talking. Be polite. Make eye contact. Watch your tone; Lain is always reminding you of that one.

Lain was the one who introduced Runaan to Ethari in the first place. He and Tiadrin knew him from a project they did together, and invited him into their friend group. Runaan was wary of the change, but his friends said nothing but good things about Ethari, so Runaan was willing to give the change a try.

And now they’re going on an actual date.

He doesn’t know enough about Ethari to feel comfortable unmasking. So far, they only interact when Runaan goes to him for weapons, or when Ethari comes down to the training field to make notes.

Don’t fidget with your cane. And whatever you do, do not infodump.

Taking a deep breath, Runaan pulls on the clothes he’s decided on—a long-sleeve blue crop top and pants with thigh slits—and throws open his door. 

He grabs his cane and bag, and leaves for his date.

~

The date is going well. Runaan smiles and nods as Ethari talks about his work, interjecting in all the right places. He can’t talk about his work. Ethari wouldn’t stay if he remembered he could lose Runaan at any moment. If he realized he would have to risk heartbreak every day.

Besides, murder isn’t exactly a romantic first date topic.

Ethari laughs at something Runaan says about magical gems, and Runaan smiles, subconsciously wiggling his hips a little.

“What’s your favorite type of gem to work with?”

“Oh, how could I pick? They’re all so good for different things and have so many different uses! Some are better for weaponry” —Ethari winks at Runaan, who blushes— “others are better for home items, and others still are good for adding something extra to jewelry! And that’s not to mention their magical properties! My favorite would have to be ocean aquamarines, though; they’re harder to come by around here, but produce the most beautiful magic. Moon and ocean magic work so well together—I mean, the moon and the ocean themselves work in harmony! I’d love to get my hands on a rock from the moon one day...”

Runaan is full-on stimming now, rocking back and forth, recognizing this as infodumping.

Moon, that’s attractive.

“What would you do with a moon rock?”

“I would compare it to a moon opal and see how it reacts with it. And see how my arcanum reacts to it, that would be fascinating! If we can connect to the moon when it’s thousands of miles away, imagine how we would react if we had a piece of it right here with us! Imagine the magical properties!”

Ethari pauses, struggling to catch his breath. He’s breathing heavily as he reaches into his bag for what Runaan recognizes as something that helps check your heart rate.

He isn’t the only one with an emergency medical bag.

For the first time, Runaan also notices the cane resting by Ethari’s feet.

All the revelations about Ethari today make Runaan feel more comfortable. He relaxes as he realizes that Ethari is just like him.

~

They drag out the walk back to Runaan’s place as long as their bodies let them, Runaan infodumping about moonstriders.

They’re holding hands. Runaan’s heart flutters every time Ethari runs his thumb along the back of his hand. 

“Moonstriders are amazing creatures, aren’t they?”

“They are! And they’re fiercely loyal once you bond with them.”

Runaan blinks when he realizes they’ve reached his house. He turns to Ethari. 

“Thank you for walking me home. I would love to do this again.”

“Me too! Same time next week?”

Runaan smiles. “Sure.”

He rocks back and forth, unable to express what he wants. He’s not even sure what he wants.

Ethari lets go of Runaan’s hand and raises his hand to Runaan’s face, watching him for any sign of hesitation.

“Can I kiss you?”

Runaan answers by leaning in, Ethari meeting him halfway as Runaan slides his arm around Ethari’s waist. Their canes clink together, and Runaan drops his to bring his second hand up to Ethari’s neck.

It’s a chaste kiss, soft. Runaan moans softly when Ethari’s thumb brushes his ear.

Runaan only draws back when Ethari starts swaying where he stands.

“Are you alright?”

“Um...” His eyes are unfocused as he brings his hand from Runaan’s cheek to his temple. “I... need to sit down.”

“Come inside. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Okay.”

Runaan picks up his cane and unlocks his front door, letting Ethari in.