#but that's not WHY i write and never will be

[cao-tick]

Writing is more like a place stopped in time, a video that you took instead of fully living the moment so you could be there again and never forget any details.

It's a journey that stays with us even after it finishes because we learn something, we use a joke that we laughed about, a situation that we saw, a fandom that we discovered. You remember the taste of the book or fanfic by telling your friend and them remembering "you liked this, you talked about this, I saw your eyes sparkle".

It's music that we don't remember all of the lyrics but that part that we loved. It's the random smell of déjà vu that goes away too fast to catch.

It's art, the same as series, films, drawing or anything that feels pointless because it is just a creation for entertaining.

You write the recipe not the dinner. Not everyone is gonna read your recipe but a lot of people will, and they will like it and make dinner with that. They eat the emotions that your little silly story makes them feel. And they will say "The devastating difference between how much it takes to find the recipe vs how fast you eat it" because not everyone can write and no one can write like you.

The devastating difference between how much time it takes to write something vs how fast people read it lol

[patricia-taxxon]

If you're a neutral onlooker to this, I won't ask much of you, but don't you dare miss the cause and effect of what happened here. This isn't about justice, incest fetishism or grooming. It's the same pattern, transmisogyny-exempt people will never be forced to introspect on why they keep being dealt the same card or why it keeps working, why every inconvenient transfem that is loud enough to enter their peripheral vision is also suspiciously easy to find dirt on. I said I felt vaguely threatened by transmasculine people, I was attacked, strawmanned, and old retracted callouts were reheated and served within days, with new distortions added on for flavor.

I should have learned my lesson to never make comparisons to anything, but I'm talking to people who I trust will at least take me at my word. The Heard/Depp trial wasn't about proving who abused whom, it was about the right of women to speak of the abuse they faced from men in power in even the vaguest possible terms without themselves having their privacy and dignity violated in the endless drive to reveal the imperfect victim.

And to any of the other transfems who are participating in this charade, just remember, it will happen to you. You will have a messy breakup, you will be abused or groomed and have the tables turned back on you, you will say something that makes a TME person uncomfortable, and suddenly the only people you'll be able to trust are the transfems who've already been burned. I'll say something now that you'll write off, but I hope you remember it when your time comes. I forgive you.

[wachtelspinat]

people gonna hate me for this but idc...

i'm really happy that the last issue of the team fortress 2 comic is out now, first and foremost because i love tf2 with all my heart, it's been like family since 2009 for me and still, after all these years, a big comfort in my life.

secondly, i'm happy because there is finally an end now to the constant whining, bad takes, bad jokes and harrassment of the artists over a comic that is for fucking free. people have felt so entitled to a comic that is for fucking free. people had such foul takes like "the artist rather works on dota than the comic" (like, hello? ever heard of sth called work contracts? ppl out here really thought that makani CHOSE to work on dota instead of the tf2 comic and treat it like it's not her fucking JOB) and spread hate and misinfo that lead to people pestering the artists over a comic that is for fucking free. i'm so happy i never have to see a post of a crude mindmap, cropped from a badly pixelated screenshot again and people writing under it "SEE?!? the script is finished WHY won't the artist draw it??", framing it like it‘s their sole fault, and maybe you should not open your mouth if you don't know the difference between a mindmap and a script that has... ALL the info you need to translate that piece of work into a functioning, OUTSTANDING comic.

if it weren't for the artists you would not be reading the last chapter right now, because they were the ones pushing for it from the inside. i hope you all know that.

[d0rothydraws]

Prompt 1: MC hates talking on the phone but Sylus wants to hear their voice.

You hated talking on the phone. You could deal with a lot of thing but the moment you heard your phone ring you would freeze every time, staring at the screen until the person who tried to call you decided to give up. If it was important, they would call again. Or preferably, text.

And then you started dating Sylus. While you two did text a decent amount, he had a tendency to call at the most random times. Mostly, you were sure that he knew how flustered it made you get. He liked hearing your slightly shaky voice as you pretended that answering the phone wasn't the most stressful thing you had done all day.

But then, you started getting more used to it. After a couple weeks of his daily calls you grew to look forward to them. Anticipating them. You had asked him once why he always called instead of texting. He simply said that he wanted to hear your voice, as if it was obvious.

There was one day though, that it was way past the time he usually would call. He was texting you when he could. Some business deal, Onychinus stuff. You felt a feeling that you never expected, a churning in your gut. Your fingers moved faster than your head and the next thing you knew you heard the ringing of his phone as you called him.

"Sweetie? This is a surprise."

You could hear the genuine shock in his voice masked by the teasing tone. He answered after one ring, as if he was waiting for you.

"You didn't call me today."

You tried to not sound upset, but you knew you did. He could tell. His deep chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, your hand gripping the phone against your ear slightly tighter.

"It seems you took matters into your own hands, then? You should do that more often Kitten. It suits you."

You felt your cheeks burn slightly and you were happy that he wasn't here to see. Though, your slight silence and slight hitch of breath told him everything you need to know.

"I missed your voice."

You say, quietly. You hear Sylus' breath still for a second before he lets out a soft breath. His voice is soft, genuine.

"I missed yours, too."

~~

In an attempt to start writing again i have begun to use a prompt generator to make little quick drabbles. If anyone has little cute or spicy prompts feel free to send them!!

[fushitoru]

thinking about writing a reincarnated/isekai!gojo and reader series...

you and gojo were married in canon/jjk verse.

you’ve seen his mental health deteriorate because of the higher ups and how he’s perceived as a weapon and is a weapon. satoru’s mental health has been descending for a very long time, and by the end, when you’re soullessly watching his dead body projected by mei mei’s crows, you blankly volunteer to be next (ignoring all of kashmo's protests).

can anyone blame you? your life has no purpose anymore. you and satoru were never able to get the life you deserve. late nights spent waiting in bed for your lover, seeing the love of your life get burdened more and more from the weight of his responsibilities, and, in the end, even witnessing him volunteer his own body as if he were a doll, a weapon. you know damn well you're not going to spend the rest of your life replacing the flowers on his grave and try to reform the society that never even cared about satoru anyways.

you don’t last very long fighting sukuna, and you die, praying to whatever merciless god out there that, in another life, you and satoru get the happy ending you both deserved, that he wouldn't be the one that got away—

you wake up from your dream, gasping. you don’t know why it was so vivid; all you remember is that you were some kind of magician? like winx club? harry potter? hunter x hunter? and you had a husband and he WAS SMOKING HOT. also both of you died and you were kind of sad, because he was hot :(

so—as a college student—you head to your first lecture of the year. you’ve decided to switch majors and have to take this dumb math class that’s a gen ed and is filled with people. so you take one of two empty spots remaining.

the lecture goes on, until professor yaga rolls his eyes and suddenly everyone’s heads is turned towards the door, so you just follow the crowd.

and there he is.

a boy with the most stunning white hair and sheepish blue eyes upholding a charming grin, yelling out something undoubtedly snarky while taking his seat, some people dapping him up as he makes his way to the only seat—-the one next to you.

as he’s setting his stuff down, and he turns to look at you. blinks.

A breathless, “Hi.”

And then, your story begins again.

AHH COMMENT IF you want to be on the taglist <3

this is basically me giving you and gojo the rom com you deserve. does he remember you? did he get the same dream as you? and will he call the police if you chase after him, insisting he's your husband and the love of your life? stay tuned! prepare for angst (hurt/comfort), pining, and ridiculously horny reunion sex (at the end after i make you suffer and yearn, of course)

and to my bridgerton!gojo readers, i promise i will publish the first chapter only after chapter ten/eleven of bridgerton!gojo is out <3

[jennydolfen]

"Why? Why do you care?"

"Because I do," she said, cocking her head. "I watched you, you know. Back in that army. You'd always find the young, untrained men and protect them, even though it put you into danger. I can remember. Just barely, but I do." Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings

Holy moly, thank you for the incredible welcome to this fandom! This has literally never happened to me, anytime, anywhere, and I'm completely floored.

Even though I'm barely a third into the first book, this is what makes this book (and this character) so special. Even though the world is a rotten place, you can always try to lift up yourself, and lift up the people around you. ... and no matter how bad your situation is, Kaladin's was worse.

And boy, can Sanderson write dialogue.

I've now downloaded the Kindle version of the book too, so I can bloody read up the scenes I want to draw, and don't miss half of the details. That Syl should have just one leaf, that the leaves were described differently, that there should be rain and storm. And I can look up quotes. I miss so much when I don't see words. O_o Hope the next ones will get easier.

[howtofightwrite]

So, no surprise to anyone who's been following the blog for any period of time, but I've been dealing with some chronic illness for a while. (This is also why last week's post never made it over from Patreon. I barely had the energy to write it on Tuesday, and by Friday, I didn't have the energy to get it queued on Tumblr.)

This finally spilled over into a trip to the ER at 3am on Monday, and since then, I've been in the hospital undergoing treatment for Ulcerative Colitis. It's a particularly unpleasant disorder (you can Google it if you want the grisly details for yourself.)

I don't remember if I've disclosed it on Tumblr before, but I have diabetes. Unfortunately, the treatment for UC involves anabolic steroids to manage swelling, and steroids do not mix with diabetes. Meaning, hospitalization really is necessary (at least for a bit longer.)

This is a long way to say, there probably won't be a regular post this week. Once again, I'm sorry about that.

The good news is that I have been improving, so I'm able to do more than just stagger from the bed to bathroom, and then crawl back into bed for the rest of the day.

I'm not sure when regular posting will resume, but I'm not dead yet.

-Starke

[monamipencil]

when strawberries bloom (teaser)

“When the strawberries bloom, I'll be by your side.”

premise. mingyu is content with his life in the capitol as a victor, although he's haunted by the images of the nightmare he lived ten years ago. but all that comes to an abrupt stop, when he discovers that you—his greatest demise had been alive all this time.

content. hunger games! au, victor! mingyu, f! reader, pseudo major character death, hints of trauma, mingyu is a blink away from alcohol poisoning, capitol shenanigans, mentions of og hunger games characters, this is set in the period of second rebellion, slow burn, jealousy, both of them are in denial, fight scenes, friends to lovers (?) to strangers to enemies (it's one sided) to ???, angst, fluff, crack, smut. heavy fruit metaphor, yearning, pining, happy ending.

warnings. will be added in the fic post.

word count. tba.

release date. around december end.

author’s note. this is a part of the ‘catching fire’ collab hosted by @vitaminkyeom. i'm very excited to write this and share with you guys. though i'm barely done with fic, i thought i'd put out as a teaser to fuel me to finish it. and pls feel free to come to my inbox and scream abt this fic <33 send an ask to be added to the taglist !

Mingyu controls a deep sigh as yet another woman presses herself against him in the name of dancing. He fakes his gaze, pretending to be enamoured. The strong perfume she’d used makes his head throb, and irritate his nostrils. 

The woman whispers sultrily, “I can’t believe I got you all to myself tonight.”

She flutters her eyelashes at him, her hands playing with the tie of his masquerade mask. It only covers the lower half of his face—a skillfully sculpted skull mask, lined with golden chains. He avoids looking at her, eyes darting all over the room to find something to fixate on. 

His lack of attention doesn’t seem to faze the woman as she only steps in closer. He bites his tongue and focuses on the details of the mansion. Gold painting lines the ivory walls that are basked in the dim lights of the party now. Grand, maroon curtains hangs by the arched windows, slightly swaying as the wind flows in. 

Awe turns into confusion which is replaced by disappointment when his eyes land on a glowing liquor fountain. But if he’s really honest, he’s a bit intrigued and his tongue feels dry, aching for the bitter taste of alcohol on it. 

Another shift of his eyes lands on a familiar lady, adorned in a black gown and dancing with an old man. He recognizes you as the lady from the balcony though your face is now obscured with a masquerade mask. Relief floods through his system, if he had to catch another glance at your face, his heart would stop beating once and for all. 

But as Mingyu had discovered long ago, things never really go the way he wishes them to. You turn your head, catching his gaze. Heat floods his cheeks and all the oxygen trickles out his lungs. He sucks in a sharp breath as you maintain eye contact. He doesn’t realise that he had stopped dancing till the woman whines. The sound prickles his skin, sending a shot of annoyance through him. 

All the voices around Mingyu drown out, turning into a mere buzz. A vine wraps around his heart, its thorns puncturing the gentle muscle. He watches as you shift your attention. Your beautiful lips curving into a smile, reacting to whatever the man had said. Your body leaning towards the old gamemaker, drawing attention to your cleavage. Rage courses through his veins along with another feeling. Jealousy. 

The feeling is foreign to him and he can’t even deduce why he’s jealous. Or, he knows why he’s jealous but even that mere idea seems incredulous. Still envy coils in his gut, rattling its tail at him and mocking him. Your eyes land on him again, and his heart skips a beat. 

Just then, the song switches, carrying a seductive note. Soon, the woman is whisked away and not even a second later, you end up in his arms. His hands skate down your silk gown to the small of your back and he pulls you flush against him. The proximity makes your breath hitch and you place your arm on his shoulders, swaying to the notes. Your breaths mingle together, body heat diffusing into one.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in his system or maybe you look too much like her, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. With a sudden craving of intimacy, he holds you tight against him and the other intertwines with your left hand as you both sway to the flowing music. 

Any rational thought is chucked out his mind. The more he looks into your eyes, the more you look like her. In contrast to his prior wish, he wants your mask gone now. It obscures most of your face, cutting off near your right cheekbone to expose your right eye. 

He brushes stray hair aside. His soft, manicured nail beds caress the exposed skin off your face. You tighten your hold on him, doe eyes staring up at him with something he can’t pinpoint. His heartbeat quickens, a strange nostalgia permeates the air. Mingyu swears that this has happened before, a sense of deja vu fills his veins. 

Before he could comprehend his own actions, he undoes your mask. The sultry note tunes out into nothingness and the world seems to have stopped spinning. The mask hits the ground with a clank that gets muffled in the shock of the revelation. 

And there stands Kim Mingyu with his long lost lover and best friend who’s supposedly dead. 

You mirror his expression, horror staining your face as you shuffle to retrieve your mask. All while he stands still, going over the millions of possibilities. Why and how are you alive? Or is this a sick joke that someone is trying to play on him? 

You try to slip away from him, but he catches your hand, stopping you in your tracks. His grip tightens when you try to pull your hand away. His fingers brush over a bump on your skin, drawing attention to it. His eyes land on a scar that runs from the palm of your left hand to your wrist. 

Just then, you free yourself from his grip and escape into the bustling crowd of the party, leaving him alone. Though the mansion is filled with hundreds of citizens, an impermeable bubble seems to surround him—as if no one had witnessed what had occurred. It makes Mingyu question whether you’re real or if he made you up, like a mad man. 

send an ask to be added to the taglist !

[lesbewriting]

brat

[Dom!Sevika x Sub!Fem!Reader] [ 1.2k words]

SUMMARY: Are you sevika's good girl?

WARNINGS: 18+ | Minors DNI | thigh riding??, cockwarming(but it's a strap), semi-public sex???, smut, sub!reader, brat!reader, brattamer!sevika

A-N: Not me, wondering why, I've never wanted to write smut before. But then I realise I've never wanted to write it if it's of a man.

So yeah, it's 1st time, so it's probably pretty bad, and some parts may not make a ton of sense. But it's Sevika 😍, so I tried

[masterlist]

The crowd in The Last Drop bar was rowdy and quite loud that night, like it always seemed to be. It was filled with all the regular customers, either playing cards, dancing, or drinking as much alcohol as they could possibly get their hands on. 

One of these regulars was Sevika, who sat further towards the back, in her usual booth, alongside a couple of others. A cigarillo nestled neatly between her dark lips, blowing out a bit of smoke, as she scanned the table of her opponents before her. 

You felt a brief squeeze on your thigh for a moment, from where you sat prettily and patiently on Sevika's lap. You bore no underwear, as Sevika's strap nestled deep in your cunt, as you sat there.

Your thighs clenching together at the way your walls folded around the rubber. The only thing that covered your bare bottom half was the short and thinly strapped dress you wore. 

“Be a good girl, sit there, and warm daddy's cock.” She whispers in your ear momentarily, right when she leaned forward to play another card. “You need to be quiet.”

You only nod silently. Despite the warmth that continued to spread between your legs. Having to bite your lip carefully in order to suppress a whine from slipping out. You knew you had to be quiet now.

You knew you had to be, or otherwise you'd let all other attendees at the bar know what was happening. Something which you didn't want, not in the slightest. 

You continued to try and be quiet, staying as still as possible on her lap. The strap stretches your pussy greatly. But it was beginning to get difficult, from how much you itched to ride her thigh. Gain more friction against your bare lower half. 

You mentally curse yourself. Why did you have to suggest doing this while she was playing cards? Why couldn't you keep your damn mouth shut and just stick to the regular kinks and stuff in private. You were really regretting bringing up your wish to try it. 

“Sev...please” you whisper, but it comes out more like a whine. As you begin to shift your position on her lap, in an attempt to feel her more. You needed it. You needed more.

Sevika’s regular arm reaches down to your nearest thigh and clutches at the pudginess of it. Tightly wrapping her long fingers around it, almost enough to leave a mark. Then she leans back down, beside your ear, and whispers into it once more. 

“Nuh, uh, stay quiet. This was your idea. No moving.” The words came out sternly, from her lips. As if testing you, testing to see if you’d listen to her again.

Her eyes were calculating, fierce, and daring as they bore onto you before she focused on the card game that still happened before her. The others who played remained none-the-wiser to you both. 

“B-but—” You start, shifting again on her lap. The feeling of her cock inside you, was overbearing. You itched to feel it stretch you further.

You were silenced once more when another sharp squeeze, tighter now, was felt on your thigh. As if a warning, from Sevika, to behave or you'd regret it soon. You bite back another whine from escaping your lips as you sit there. 

Another minute or so passed by quickly, and your own neediness was growing increasingly stronger. Your legs clench tighter together as you shift on her lap. Slowly, you found yourself rubbing against Sevika's clothed thigh, shifting so that her cock inside you would rub further up against your walls.

With your teeth proceeding to gnaw at your bottom lip in an attempt to not be loud or let everyone know your pleasure. You slowly went a little further, feeling the strap inside you more and more, with each movement you made.

Sevika had noticed.

“What do you think you're doing?” Sevika growls out into your ear. Both her hands suddenly make their way to your hips tightly. Which halted your movements on her thigh. It was evident with how she sounded to you that she was getting irritated. “Did I say you could move?”

You shook your head slowly. When she gripped at your hips. You didn't release your hold on your lip. 

“Then, why did you?” Sevika growls out, again into your ear. Scolding you for going against her orders. Her grip on your clothed hips is getting tighter. It's almost tight enough to leave red markings. 

“‘M sorry.” You apologise quietly, almost inaudible to her ears. But Sevika heard, and next thing you knew.

She’s standing from her spot at the table, lifting you with her so that your legs wrap around her waist, and she’s carrying you with strong arms towards the nearest room in the tavern. 

The door was kicked shut with a slam, by one of her feet. As she’s shoving you onto the nearest surface, a desk inside. Her strap is still buried deep inside you.

“Is this what you want? Brat. Are you so needy for my cock, that you can't be patient and wait till I'm done.” She spits, irritated.

Her hips thrust as she begins to pound into you with the strap. Her thrusts come out aggressive and harsh. Almost taking you by surprise at how fast she’s going. 

You manage to groan out at the pace she’s going. Of the sounds of her cock pounding in and out of your tight cunt. A coil tightening up inside of your stomach, as you slowly go towards your limit.

“I should very well not let you cum, when you're being so bratty, and not listening to my orders.” She spits again, thrusting inside you again and again. Not giving you a chance to take a breath, with how rapid her cock slides in and out of you.

“Sev…”  You start, whining. The continuous sounds of squelching filling the room you two sit in, when the rubber of the strap slides through the wet folds of your pussy. 

With each intense and fast-paced pound of her strap into you. You can feel yourself so close to reaching your limit, and the more you get closer, you groan and whine. 

“Gonna come around my cock brat?” She asks, her aggressive thrusts not slowing inside you. Eyes piercing as she glares and intensely watches your face, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at each rapid thrust. 

You only nod, gasping, at the feeling of her inside your clenched, and wet pussy. Feeling each time the cock slides inside of your tight hole, you come closer and closer towards your limit. 

Eventually, after another couple minutes or so, you do reach it. Your back arching further against the desk, with your legs wrapping tighter around Sevika's waist, with each thrust she continues to pound into your cunt. 

Your whines and groans are coming out just a little bit louder as you find yourself riding your high throughout. Sevika's thrusts begin to slow down now, until you’ve finished your high.

“You learn your lesson now, or do I need to punish you more?” Sevika lets out, her cock now just sitting inside your cunt, no longer pounding harshly into you. Her eyes locking onto the fucked out and dazed expression, that she can tell now resides onto your features.

You nod your head, tiredly. Resting your head back against the wood of the desk beneath you. Maybe you had, maybe you hadn't learned your lesson. But if it gets you fucked like that by her, then you think you'd probably like to be a brat more often. 

[ramblin-tiger]

Ok so I wanted to write this like, almost a week ago, and it's because my little joke has had a lot of reblogs/likes (for me lol), I'm just bad about writing stuff sometimes lol.

So!

To me, writing is one of the few things In the realm of art that I've been able to keep up with over the years. And i feel like there's a few reasons for that.

First: and probably the most important one to me, is that I can read something that someone has written and even when I can clearly tell they are much better and in many cases writing at levels I wish I could im never discouraged. Like, when it comes to physical media art like drawing etc, I get so easily discouraged. It's why I stopped years ago. But writing? I never get that feeling. Yeah I recognize that I'm not as good as that person, but I also feel like my own stories and ideas are just as good in their own way.

Second: I'm sure those who deal in the realm of drawing and other arts also feel this way, but when I read someone else's writing or see someone's art sometimes I just want to add onto it or write my own version with the original being a prompt of sorts. You can see this easily in a lot of my stories where it's prefaced by one of @writing-prompt-s prompts, or an image a mutual or someone i follow posts.

Third: I'm almost always feel accomplished no matter what I've written. I like to go back and read them on occasion to~ (been meaning to make a side blog specifically as an archive to find them easier lol)

But yeah! As much as I love to joke about (even if it's true!) The way we do and don't write things and why, it's great that there's at least one thing that I can say I've never been discouraged about doing and still enjoy~

Now to watch sonic3 and then write something later tonight... or.. well... eventually XD

me as a writer

[sugurus-thoughts]

03. sata doesn't know you like I do

❆pairing — saturo gojo x virgin! reader!

❆summary —santa, doesn't know you like I do i know all of your favorite songs pick up each time you call so why can't I be the one to give you everything you want?

❆ w/c — 15,1k

warnings —nsfw, established relationship, angst, fluff, suggestive, making out, smut, pure love, mentions virginity, first time, touching, MDNI.

a/n — Istarted a series based on, Sabrina Carpenter's ep called Fruitcake. Since Christmas is drawing near I'll base every character on a song title. This series will also continue if it does well also keep note this is my first time writing smut I hope it fit your liking. I hope you all like it!!! ❤️

ps: I didn't proof read this I was so tired but hopefully you enjoy it!!

"Does it hurt, my love?" he whispered, his voice a low, husky caress that sent shivers down your spine. The struggle to contain his pleasure was evident in every ragged breath, yet he maintained a fragile thread of control, solely for your comfort. His eyes, dark pools of desire, delved deep into yours, searching for the slightest whisper of discomfort. But you merely shook your head, a silent assurance that your pleasure exceeded any hint of pain.

"I need words, my love," he implored, his soft, gentle voice a stark contrast to the primal passion that threatened to consume him. His smile, a tender, loving gesture, was solely for you, and you alone. Your response, a broken, trembling whisper, betrayed the emotions that swirled within you.

Satoru was a man of boundless patience, especially when it came to you. A man of honor and quiet dignity, he carried your heart above his own, always putting you first. From the moment you met at a small, unassuming gathering introduced by your ever-thoughtful friend Shoko Ieiri—there was an undeniable spark. Shoko had always believed in love for you, convinced that someone like you, so strong yet so deserving of tenderness, was meant to find it. She saw the beauty in your independence, the strength in your solitude, but also the quiet ache you tried so hard to conceal.

As a lawyer and a fiercely self-reliant woman, you had built a life where love seemed unnecessary, even impractical. You had spent years alone, finding purpose in your work, strength in yourself, and telling yourself that this was enough. You didn’t think love had a place in your world, let alone a man like him. But then came Satoru— persistent, with his piercing blue eyes, his pale skin, and hair like freshly fallen snow, so unapologetically himself. He didn’t just want to know you; he was determined to understand you, to peel back the layers you’d so carefully constructed.

You never thought you’d meet someone like him in your late twenties, when you’d long given up on the idea of love being something for you. Yet here he was, his presence softening the edges of a heart you thought had grown too calloused. He saw you—not the lawyer, not the independent woman who needed no one—but you. The woman who had quietly resigned herself to a life alone, who thought she didn’t want children, who believed her purpose was in helping others, not in being loved herself.

And somehow, against all odds, the gods smiled upon you and sent him your way—a man so steady, so persistent, so utterly devoted to unraveling your barriers. With Satoru, you felt a vulnerability you had spent years avoiding, but also a kind of safety you never knew you craved. It was as if the universe decided you’d spent long enough braving the world alone, and it placed this beautiful, unrelenting force of love in your path to remind you that even the strongest among us are allowed to lean on someone.

As the months passed and Christmas finally arrived, the gift you had been saving for him on this sacred day was nothing short of perfect. Dressed in delicate white lace that caressed every curve of your figure, you moved toward him with a slow, deliberate grace. His world seemed to halt time, space, and eternity all froze in awe of your presence. Breathless and spellbound, he dared not speak, his every thought consumed by the vision of you drawing nearer, a promise of passion in your every step.

Now as you lay beneath him, with his slender fingers inside you, lace has not yet been removed. His eyes boring into your Y/E/C ones, only to find a single tear seep from yours. He was quick to remove his hand but you stopped him so quickly, only for him to cry out his name. Surely it only awakened him fully, not by want or by hast but for your own pleasure.

“Saturo… please just move”, with a bit of hesitation but selfish desire he could not resist her at all,for she was his everything after all. And before he could even think further… you kissed him. Kissed him so profoundly, so delicately almost as if snow would melt away any second now.

And with that,

For the first time his fingers moved and a low moan could be heard from you as he pushed into you slightly. The wet sounds could be heard from your core, minutes before this moment as he laid before your womanhood delicately preparing you for the pain you might yield before you.

“Saturo” a beautiful moan was heard from your lips as he kept residing within, his lust was growing by the minute, only to make you fully his and only his alone.

“Fuck… your so wet my love” he murmured lowly only to kiss your neck, to distract you from the pain. He knew how much it hurt but he knew the pleasure would soon come after. Your moan was getting extremely out of control, and he knew something was coming slowly but surely. The way you tighten around his two fingers was clear you were close to your breaking point.

“You like that?” he asked softly with a smirk.

His ego was getting the best out of him,for him to know that he is your first,made him feel like you belong to him and now man will ever touch you the way he is touching you.

“Saturo please…. there's something.. please” she gripped his arm, only to close her eyes but knowing Saturo he fully didn't like that.

“Open your eyes sweetheart, you're close.. you feel that?” He couldn't help but see the way your breasts were bouncing slightly only for him to start kissing your neck and reach them for them softly. Without removing the lace that hugged your figure so perfectly he kissed your aroused nipples and slightly sucked onto the thin layer of wet patch. The sounds you'd made were wonderful, his name was rolling off your lips and the man he is took pride in this.

“Saturo…. please-pl-please something is happ-” before you could finish he kissed you and the position you were in has slightly changed to an open-legged spoon position,finally just like that he could feel you were close, and he only let you continue to spread his name fully.

“Saturo”a final whisper came from you as Saturo devoured your neck, and slightly pinched your nipples.

“Let go… my love “ and with one final say you came undone and he continued to ride through your climax in your shaking state.

The snow fell relentlessly outside, blanketing the world in quiet serenity, as your own body surrendered to the storm within—a heavenly tempest stirred by nothing more than the way Satoru's striking azure eyes held you captive.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked, his voice a tender melody that wrapped around your heart. His lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile that made the chaos within you settle for just a moment.

You exhaled shakily, every word feeling like a confession he had been yearning to hear. “I’m okay, Satoru,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with unspoken affection. His gaze deepened, as if your very breath was the only thing he needed to feel complete.

His slender fingers traced your red swollen lips as he slightly opened your mouth to taste yourself. You moaned at his unpleasant actions,only to find yourself empty without his fingers inside you,as much as it hurt the pleasure itself took over only making you crave more and more of him.

Saturo could only smile at your response, as you licked his finger cleanly.

At this cold hour he can only get up to remove the unyielding lace that has been covering your beautiful body slightly. He could only feel the soft flesh of your breasts as he removed the lace inch by inch. The way your body shook at the slightest touches he gave you was a sign that only he was meant to fill up that empty space within you.

As you lie before him, bare and vulnerable like a lamb surrendered to the hands of fate, he sees not just your form but the depth of your soul. Stripped of pretense, you are as pure as moonlight on still waters, and he can only dream of the mysteries that lie beneath the surface, waiting to embrace him in their quiet, untamed beauty.

“Saturo,... it's not polite to stare” your reactions were adorable in this present moment only to make him question how the gods above have blessed him with someone so pure and utterly beautiful.

“Am I not allowed to stare at what's mine now?” he teasted coming closer and closer as he took off his clothes. He could see you blush as you kept glancing in his direction.

And finally as he stripped out of his last, clothing she could see what was waiting for her. His member slipped out perfectly only for you to witness how red the tip was, how it clearly looked like it was in pain. Your eyes grew wide at the thought of what might happen next,

“Now it's not polite to stare, is it love?”He mimicked your words softly which only caused your face to turned a slight crimson. He chuckled softly at your actions.

“It’s okay, baby, come here.” His voice was a low murmur, smooth and commanding. You couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly he could shift between personas. One moment, he was wild and unrestrained, laughter spilling from his lips like he didn’t have a care in the world. The next, his eyes darkened, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone like a predator closing in on his prey. And right now, with that teasing smirk and the way his gaze raked over you, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run... or let him catch you.

“Saturo,.... is there something I need to do?”your angelic voice broke him out of his trace as he pulled you against the edge of the bed only to lean over your naked figure. Before he could respond, you whispered softly into his ear, “Can I put it in my mouth?” with a smirk he softly traced your soft features.

“You sure you can handle it my love…” he loved teasing you like this, but he also wanted to make sure your first time was a beautiful yet memorable experience for the both of you. As a man he didn't want to cross the line but yet you wanted it right?

Without hesitation he kissed your lips, only to guide one of your hands along his hard member. He moaned slightly as your small hands came in contact with him,you gasped at his robbing hard member,and this only made him smirk.

Saturo was acutely aware of his limits, yet in this moment, everything centered around you and your radiant essence. The only thing he yearned for was to envelop you in sheer happiness, to make this snowy night a canvas for your dreams and desires. As the world outside transformed into a winter wonderland, he felt an irresistible urge to explore the very depths of your soul, to discover the tender secrets that lay within you.

Each touch would be a gentle brushstroke, a sweet tribute to the love he held for you—a heartfelt expression of gratitude for your mere existence. He wanted to fulfill your every need, to whisper sweet promises against your skin and illuminate the corners of your heart. This evening was not just a moment in time but a sacred offering, where every caress would speak of devotion, and every lingering gaze would convey an unspoken understanding.

He knew you deserve every ounce of affection he could offer, and as the snowflakes danced in the air, he vowed to make you feel cherished, desired, and utterly intoxicatingly alive. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, he longed to weave a tapestry of intimacy between you, where passion and tenderness intertwined, creating an unforgettable symphony of two souls becoming one.

Before you could even continue your ministrations, he was on his knees in front of your sex,and just like that his tongue came into contact with your most precious parts.

“Saturo…. oh oh my gosh” his name dragged along with your hands in his hair as he pulled you closer to stop moving,trapping you with his most dangerous part: that tongue.

Without warning he slightly pushed his finger within you which only led you to jerk away but his skilled arm has you stepped beneath him like a hungry man devouring his prey.

“Fuck, your still so tight and warm my love,can you hear that?” he was mumbling within you and it only made you want to escape his hungry mouth more. You could hear the sounds your wet sex made as he continued his ministrations.

Your moans continued to break loose in this cold night but in the room the only thing that kept you warm was this man before you ate you out like he was hungry for me. You could feel yourself building up, that familiar feeling was drawing near it was so close, you could see the stars but before you could even grasp the feeling Saturo left you there like an open wound.

Before you could even utter a word, his lips captured yours, an electrifying jolt racing through your body as you tasted the sweetness of the moment. His tongue brushed against yours, sending ripples of sensation cascading through your core. As his hands interlaced with yours, he gently guided them above your head, a subtle but powerful gesture that made you feel both vulnerable and cherished.The kiss deepened, slowing into a languid exploration, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. He paused, his gaze locking onto yours, those deep eyes searching for something, perhaps reassurance. The softest kiss followed, a whisper of lips that lingered like a promise, a quiet apology for the overwhelming feelings building between you, as if he knew the leap you were both about to take.

Your breath hitched as you felt him carefully guided your thighs apart, you felt a rush of anticipation mixed with desire. He leaned in, lips brushing lightly against yours again, as if savoring the taste of you, while his body pressed closer, heat radiating between you. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm embrace, each brush of his skin against yours setting every nerve ending ablaze. His hand slid down your arm, relishing in the softness of your skin, before resting at your waist, firm yet gentle.

The question you have been waiting for, like a deer caught in red lights, you couldn't help but shed tears at this very moment. The bliss of innocence that surrounded the both of you like pure love itself couldn't bestow this upon you.

“Are you ready my love?” he whispered the question heavy with promise.

And in that moment , you knew you were ready. You were ready to give yourself fully to this embrace, to explore the depths of intimacy together, to lose yourself in each other’s rhythm—a journey that was just beginning. In that sacred space, everything felt perfect, as if the universe had conspired to bring you both here, to this intoxicating moment where love and desire entwined, igniting a passion that would forever change you.

Nothing compared to this blissful moment, and that's when you felt it.

His member stretched you out so rapidly you couldn't feel the pain, he let out the slightest groan as his face came into contact with your neck only to be filled by your warmth on this very sacred day, it was a gift beyond. As his body lay on top of you, you could tell he was struggling, by just staying still in this moment waiting for you to give him permission. He lifted his head slightly, with sleepy eyes and smiled at you, only to ask in his purest form or words “Are you okay my love?” with tears slightly covering your beautiful face his fingers brushes away, each ripple.

“You can move, it's okay” a small teary smile, on your lips. Your lips lashed onto his before he could even protest.

Saturo could only feel his whole world crash before him as he slipped out of you only to be filled with your warmth again. He could hear the sounds of pain and pleasure escaping your lips. Could you be more of a goddess than you are now,the way your tits are bouncing up and down as he keeps pushing into you.

As minutes passed you could feel that the pain you felt earlier was beginning to pass slowly.

“Fuck, you feel so good my love, so tight so warm ” he moaned in you ear.

“F-F-faster Toru”, as you gripped his shoulders, for dear life. You could feel the pain slightly slither away as he kept going at a slow pace which only made you want him more.

“You like that, huh baby?” he smirked against your now heated skin and he moved slightly faster. You could feel that familiar sensation build up within you, as Saturo kept lacing into your womanhood.

Saturo kept praising you, as he continued his lustful acts, until you felt him slightly, kiss you neck only to latch his lips onto your right breast, the other hand was now playing with the left.

You arch your back slightly from the overwhelming pleasure. Never have you felt such pleasure from a man, the warmness of his tongue, the movement of his hips was enough to drive you to ecstasy.

“Saturo-.... baby… I'm” he let go of you only to go a bit faster you could tell he was close as well,by the way he was moaning and twitching inside your core.

“Fuck I'm just as close, I'm gonna make you all mine” he whispered softly as he gripped the headboard, looking into you eyes.

His finger reached your mouth only to stimulate the sensation more.

“I'm close fuck, just like that baby keep still!”

“Saturo!” you exhaled loudly.

With one strike the both of you reached your climax only to have him fill you up. Just like that he collapsed on top of you, pulverised from exhaustion.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The room felt alive with the warmth of what had just passed between you, the air heavy with a kind of intimacy that words couldn’t touch. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, then trailed softly down your arm, as if grounding himself in the reality of you beside him.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, yet it carried a tenderness that melted through you.

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting him in the dim light. “I am,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Better than I’ve ever been,” he admitted, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. “I just… I needed to be sure. I don’t ever want to do anything that doesn’t feel right for you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, at the sincerity in his gaze. “It felt perfect,” you assured him. “Because it was with you.”

He exhaled, as if releasing some invisible weight. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he said, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “I’ve loved you for so long. I didn’t even think it was possible to feel closer to you than I already did. But now…”

“Now?” you prompted, your voice light and teasing as you watched his expression soften further.

“Now I feel like my heart doesn’t belong to me anymore,” he said, his tone serious yet filled with a quiet awe. “It’s yours. All of it.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy ones. You leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s safe with me,” you whispered to him. “Because my heart has been yours for a long time, too.”

In the quiet that followed, the two of you stayed entwined, speaking in murmurs about your love, your dreams, and the endless possibilities of a future spent together. And as you drifted into the gentle embrace of sleep, his arms still around you, you felt as though you had finally found your home, in him.

©suguru's-thoughts 2024. do not copy or translate my work.

artwork does not belong to me. All credits to the owner.

banners are from the lovely @adornedwithlight !

a/n: I won't lie , I don't know if this will be good I felt a bit uncomfortable writing smut but I assume it was my first time . I honestly am slightly feeling a bit, out of place on tumblr and I know its only been a few days hopefully my writing does get better and I will grow an audience some day but please do give your opinions and feedback, it will really be thoughtful, thank you :') 🤍

[n0vazsq]

Yours | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x best!friend!reader

summary . . . You and Lando were best friends, everyone knew that. But Lando couldn't help but feel different when you entered the Mclaren hospitality with your new boyfriend

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.3k+

warnings . . . angst, jealousy, possesive-ish lando if you squint

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . neck injury still there dni </3 but i'm like limiting myself to writing 3-5 fics a day so pls no more requests guys i beg until i write that joao felix fic (im joking you can request all you want)!! also i dont like this idk why its just not fic-ing </3 also ily if you notice the refrences

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . Lando Norris never liked sharing you.

Not in kindergarten when you shared your animal crackers with Leo Thompson, not in middle school when you declared the boy from biology class 'kind of cute,' and certainly not in high school when you got your first boyfriend.

He tolerated it back then because, despite everything, you always came back to him. Always.

But now? Oh, now, it was Kygo. Kygo. The world renowned DJ with the perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect….everything.

Lando tried to brush it off at first, thinking it was just a fling.

"He's too busy," Lando told himself. "He won't stick around. She'll get bored of the jet setting life."

But months passed, and Kygo stuck around. Long enough for Miami to roll around, and suddenly Lando was living through his worst nightmare: seeing you two together, up close and personal.

The Miami Grand Prix weekend was a whirlwind of heat, noise, and flashing cameras, but nothing felt louder than Lando’s thoughts as he watched you walk into the paddock, hand in hand with him.

Kygo.

It wasn’t like Lando hadn’t been prepared for this. He’d heard from you weeks ago, your excited voice on the phone telling him about you two coming to the Grand Prix to watch him. He played it off then, made some snarky remark about how you could 'do better than a guy with a laptop' but now?

Seeing it? Watching you laugh, looking so effortless beside Kygo? It was unbearable.

He didn’t even know why.

Well, that was a lie. He knew.

"Quit staring," Oscar teased under his breath as they walked back toward the Mclaren garage.

"I’m not staring," Lando grumbled, eyes fixed on the ground.

Oscar shot him a look. "You’re boring holes into the guy’s head. Careful, mate, you’ll scare him."

Lando didn’t laugh. He couldn’t find the humor when Kygo had his arm slung casually around your shoulders. You weren’t his, Lando knew that, but there was something about the way Kygo looked at you. So relaxed, so….confident. Like he had every right to hold you that close.

It made Lando’s teeth grind.

The day dragged. Qualifying went well enough, but Lando’s mood was like a storm cloud following him around. He couldn’t focus, not when you kept popping in and out of the garage with Kygo in hand, the two of you looking like the most annoyingly attractive couple to ever exist.

"Your head’s not in the game," Lando’s engineer muttered at one point, earning a sharp glare in response.

Because how could it be?

When the sun dipped below the horizon and the city came alive with its neon glow, Lando found himself at the post qualifying party, drink in hand, leaning against the bar with a scowl he wasn’t trying to hide.

Across the room, you were dancing.

And Kygo, of course, was there, laughing, spinning you around like some movie cliche. You looked happy, your face lit up with a smile that Lando had seen a thousand times before, but somehow tonight it was like he was seeing it for the first time.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until someone bumped his shoulder.

"You’re sulking," Oscar said, appearing beside him.

"I’m not-"

"You are. And it’s pathetic." Oscar gestured toward the dance floor. "If you’re that jealous, do something about it."

Lando’s head whipped around. "I’m not jealous."

He snorted. "Sure."

You stepped off the dance floor for a breather, heading toward the balcony to cool off. The Miami night was warm and sticky, the party’s music muffled now that you were outside. You leaned against the railing, letting out a soft sigh as you gazed at the skyline.

"You’re having fun."

The voice startled you. You turned to find Lando stepping onto the balcony, hands shoved into his pockets. His expression was unreadable, but there was something….off about him tonight.

"Yeah, I am," you replied, smiling softly. "It’s a great weekend."

Lando nodded slowly, his gaze drifting out over the city. "You’ve spent most of it with him."

You blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone. "With Kygo? Well….yeah. He’s been great."

"Right." Lando’s jaw tightened. "He seems great."

There it was. That tone again.

"Lando," you said, frowning. "What’s going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." You stepped closer, crossing your arms. "You’ve been acting weird all day. You barely said a word in the garage, and now you’re out here sulking. Just spit it out."

Lando’s eyes flicked to yours, sharp and searching, and for a moment you thought he might finally just say whatever was on his mind. But instead, he looked away again, shaking his head.

"It’s nothing."

You huffed, annoyed now. "If it’s nothing, then why are you being like this? It’s like you’ve got some problem with me and Kygo-"

"I do."

The words cut through the air like a whip, sharp and sudden. You froze, staring at him. "What?"

Lando exhaled, his hands running through his hair as if trying to hold himself together. "I do," he repeated, quieter this time. "I hate it. Seeing you with him. Watching you laugh and dance and, god, it’s driving me insane."

You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest. "Why?"

Lando looked at you then, really looked at you, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch.

"You are jealous," you whispered.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, well….can you blame me?"

The two of you stood there, the night silent around you, his words hanging heavy in the air. For the first time, you looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something you hadn’t seen before.

And now, you couldn’t unsee it.

"Lando…"

"I can’t-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I can’t stand the idea of someone else being your favorite person. I’ve known you my whole life, and I’ve always been that guy. I don’t know how to- how to share you. I don’t want to."

Your heart twisted painfully at his words. "Lando, you don’t have to share me."

He let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Don’t I? You’re his now. Or at least… that’s what it feels like."

"I’m not his," you said firmly, taking a step closer. "I’ve never been anyone’s but my own. But you… you’re my favorite person too, you idiot."

Lando’s gaze snapped to yours, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. "Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?"

"You’re not." Your voice was barely a whisper now, the space between you closing until you could feel the heat radiating off him. "You’re not losing me."

Lando’s eyes flicked to your lips, and suddenly, it was like the last thread of restraint snapped.

He leaned in, his hand coming up to cup your face as his lips met yours, soft at first, testing, until you kissed him back with just as much urgency. It was all the words left unspoken, all the tension, all the jealousy, pouring into one moment.

When you both pulled back, he met your eyes, full of guilt and pity. And who was it for? Fucking Kygo. Always him.

Then, when you said, "I'm sorry, Lando. I can't. It's not right.", he knew that he'll never be yours.

And as he watched you run off into the party, it all came crashing down on him. He will never be yours again.

He was just somebody you called when you're alone, somebody you used, but never owned. He knew he's not the one you really love.

And maybe that's why he's never given up.

[tategaminu]

Rayla finding out she's pregnant 19 days before the return of Aaravos. It's not planned‚ it's a very messy situation. Big drama‚ big angst but much love

[shoresoftheshadowlands]

I see posts like this and think about the post that went around not long ago. About the friend of a very popular writer on what was apparently an incredibly popular fanfic. But it stopped getting comments or likes or kudos or w/e they call it over there, and while it was still just as popular, they stopped getting to hear what people thought.

Eventually they found a discord where people WERE chattering about it, but never posted on the work itself.

Artists and Writers don't do what we do for a silent room in most cases. We're not doing this to recite our work in an empty field. If we have posted our work publicly, it is there to be seen and enjoyed. If you like something, TELL THE ARTIST / WRITER. When you don't, it is wildly demoralizing.

That popular author has stopped posting their story because of this very thing. Why should we bare our souls, why would we want to, when no one tells us how our work makes them feel? Even if we're writing or drawing for ourselves, it makes us not want to bother when we're ignored after we put our work where people can see it.

No, it's not all about the comments and kudos, but when you don't get any feedback, your heart feels lost at sea. Hard to swallow pills my arse, these are 'choke on these pills'. These are poison pills.

The real hard to swallow pills is accepting that not telling the writers and artists you follow that you like their work will eventually lead to them not posting anymore. Give love to these people for whom are often taken for granted. Offer them love, give them kudos, comment, like, whatever, reblog their work. Let them know you love their work, or you might find they've vanished, demoralized.

[stormyoceans]

I can absolutely talk about bottom Fadel. He would be so overwhelmed at first, trying to hide his face and his noises, not sure whether to push Style away bc it's all just too much or pull him closer bc it's also just so good until Style grabs him by the neck and makes him look into his eyes and murmurs how good Fadel is and just to let go and with a shuddering breath Fadel would finally relax into it. Afterwards Fadel would be shivering all over and clinging to Style who holds him and pets his back, dropping small kisses wherever he can reach and whispering how much he loves Fadel. Yeah... I can totally talk about that.

CLIMBING THE WALLS OF MY OFFICE AND SPINNING COUNTERCLOCKWISE ON THE CEILING BECAUSE YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY YES TO EVERYTHING YOU SAID YOU GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

it's just the way fadel looks so overwhelmed every time style touches him. every time he's not the one initiating physical contact and taking charge of the direction it takes. and yet at the same time he almost looks in pain with how hard he tries not to show it, as if there's something wrong in being on the receiving end of pleasure, in feeling that pleasure and letting it wash over him, pulling him under. even jerking off seems like a perfunctory act just to scratch an itch and be done with it as quickly as possible

style, tho. style is all about pleasure and fun and feeling good. he’s also more observant than anyone gives him credit for. so when fadel bites his lip so hard to the point he draws blood just to prevent himself from making any noises while style sucks him off, of course style notices. he also decides right there and then that that simply won’t do

the next time style presses fadel down onto the mattress, he takes his time. he sucks and bites on fadel’s nipples until fadel starts squirming under him, telling him to just get on with it already. style looks at fadel’s flushed face and heaving chest, at the way he’s already rock hard and leaking through his underwear, and wonders if he could make fadel come just by playing with his pecs, but that will have to wait. he finally moves lower, kissing his way down to the wet spot on fadel’s underwear and mouthing at it. fadel barks out his name, half a warning half a plead, voice strained and legs trembling

style frees him from the underwear, slicks his fingers with lube, and presses gently at fadel’s entrance with one. fadel seems to relax for a second, but the furrow between his brows is back as soon as he realizes that style has no intention to hurry. style tries to distract him with kisses, the rhythm of his finger inside fadel excruciately slow on purpose. he adds another, and he knows he has found fadel’s prostate when fadel jolts away from the kiss and his hands close around style’s arms as if to push him away. style shushes him, his free hand coming up to hold fadel’s head. he hits the same spot with his fingers again, and fadel’s grips on his arm tightens. fadel’s eyes are blown wide and his teeth are sinking into his lower lip

style places a kiss on fadel’s temple and starts talking, his fingers massaging the same spot inside fadel again and again. “it’s okay to let go, you know. you don’t always have to be strong and keep your guard up, at least not with me. im here. i’ve got you. let me hear you. let me take care of you.” for the first time, fadel throws his head back and comes with a loud cry

ANYWAY. sorry for this mess, i guess i got kinda inspired by what you wrote ;;;;;;; THE POINT IS THAT STYLE WOULD LOVE TO TURN FADEL INTO A PLIANT SOBBING MESS AND TELL HIM HOW GOOD HE IS AND FADEL NOT ONLY WOULD LET HIM BUT ALSO COME TO LOVE IT THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

[king-casino]

Cracks knuckles. SO. TIME FOR ME TO ACTUALLY WRITE OUT MY INTERPRETATION OF SCOUT AND SPY'S FINAL RELATIONSHIP SHOWN IN THE 7TH COMIC. 

Spy still has not told Scout that he's his father. Why, you may ask? Well.... Scout doesn't need him. Scout went his whole life without Spy, and he's made a new life for himself now. Even if Scout were to learn that information, it really wouldn't do anything but possibly destroy him and Spy's current relationship. In Spy's eyes, Scout will always be his son. But from Scout's, Spy will never be his dad, even if he finds out. Spy knows this. He knows Scout doesn't need him. He knows that if he really wanted to have a father-son relationship with Scout, he should have been there when he was a kid. 

Remember this line from Scout? I think thematically, it could have possibly been referring to Spy too.

And honestly? I truly wouldn't be surprised if Scout already knows. Learned way back in the day at RED. He's smarter than everyone (including himself) gives him credit for. He just needs to get his head outta his ass in order to actually use said smartness. Like in the comic, you can see he's clearly matured, and he's clearly doing a great job. He's honestly fairly intelligent! Anyway... I wouldn't be surprised if Scout already knew, and decided to not give a shit. Scout might have had the same logic as above, he doesn't need Spy, and Spy will never be his father. And i could also see Scout TELLING Spy that he knows! But telling him that same thing, Spy will never be his dad. So the "I'm.... Your father's friend from work." Line could possibly be... Scout doesn't view Spy as his *dad*. So therefore, he probably wouldn't want his kids to view Spy as their grandfather, because it could be complicated. Scout just doesn't care about being Spy's son. He doesn't wanna make up for lost times and have a father now. He cares about Spy, and wants him in his life, but not in a father-son way. And Spy's okay with that. It still hurts, not because Scout rejected him, but because he knows this is his own fault. Moments like that, where he's talking to Scout's kids, his heart aches. 

Anyway! That's my two possible interpretations!!! …⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ…⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ…⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ