#disclaimer: is it a Romantic relationship? FUCK IF WE KNOW

[reinanova]

i have a few scenarios for you to consider

~~~

character: “i’m not straight”

fandom*: mmmm but what if you were

~~~

character: is bisexual in the comics

fandom: well, character isn’t explicitly stated to be bi in the movies, therefore character is straight

~~~

writer: yeah character is pan and has a dating history with all genders (and this wasn’t shown bcuz of xyz)

fandom: well, it doesn’t matter what the writer says, character is straight bcuz they’ve only dated the opposite gender on screen

~~~

character: is gay (either implied or explicitly stated to be homosexual and homoromantic)

fandom: well, maybe they’re homosexual but heteroromantic**, therefore i’m only going to ship this character with the opposite gender

~~~

character: is a lesbian

fandom: well, lesbians can still have sex with men therefore i’m going to write f/m smut with this lesbian and a man. not as a “figuring out/exploring my sexuality” fic but just bcuz i can

~~~

queer community: hey this character is canonically queer, could you please be respectful of that?

fandom: how about you go fuck yourselves. this is so embarrassing to be asking for respectful representation, literally shut the fuck up

~~~

character: is canonically gay

fandom: well you can’t prove he’s not attracted to women so he’s straight actually

~~~

disclaimers:

* i’m talking about a fandom as a whole in this post, not a couple individuals who may do this. this is talking about if a large chunk (think half or more) of a fandom is ignoring a canon queer identity

** no hate to someone who may identify this way. if someone is this identity, kudos to them, but people shouldn’t just use this as an excuse to ignore someone’s queer identity

this is how you sound when ignoring aspec*** identities. do you hear how ridiculous this is?

*** aspec (the way i use it at least) includes the asexual spectrum (ace-spec) and aromantic spectrum (aro-spec). also your friendly reminder that people can be aro and not ace and vise versa but you can’t ignore one or the other to suit your fancy

there will probably always be people doing this (re: ignoring canon queer identities) in fandoms, however, not in mainstream and popular ships and not to the extent that aspec identities are erased. bcuz if you have a problem with the above scenarios but not when the character is aspec, an already basically invisible identity, you need to re-examine your thinking and deal with your hypocrisy

do you know how hard it is to prove a LACK of something? even if someone straight up says, “i experience zero sexual or romantic attraction to anyone,” someone else will be like, “well how do you know you just haven’t found the right person yet?”

is the idea that someone doesn’t want a romantic or sexual relationship that difficult to understand?

if you want to see your identity represented in a character headcanon, great! but do so in a way that doesn’t negate another marginalized and underrepresented canon identity

there are SO! MANY! straight characters at your disposal. use one of them for your queer headcanons until we reach the point where your identity is canon. then you’ll probably be fighting for representation the same way i am right now

it also sucks to see fighting within the aspec community. bcuz yes aro and ace identities are a spectrum. however, when there’s a singular character with an aspec identity, you physically cannot showcase that spectrum. so if an ace character is sex-favorable, allos will believe all ace people are sex-favorable and ignore aces who are not. same thing for sex-repulsed aces and so on. the only solution is to fight for more aspec representation so everyone can see themselves in media without sacrificing parts of an aspec identity to fit how you identify

i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired of fighting for an ounce of representation. this should not be an uphill battle for people to accept aspec characters. i shouldn’t have to fight the queer community and straight people for this

[ragnars-tooth]

They say write what you know so my flatmate and I accidentally fake dating aued ourselves into a relationship 😭😭

[cazshmere]

Astrology Observations Pt. 8 🦂

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🦂

🦂 I think people who have their chiron in the 3rd/7th or 11th house may experience significant insecurity about posting on social media and being in front of a camera, or even commenting under various posts online. They often overthink the things they put out online/the things they were going to post online 😭 and also if they post pictures/videos they might rewatch the picture/video 984726261 times and often find a SOME tiny fault and convince themselves to delete whatever it is that they have posted. This placement can create a deep-seated fear of judgment and a tendency to second-guess every public interaction

🦂I have noticed that scorpio moons and capricorn moons have very involved and critical mothers/parents, exhibiting behaviors typical of helicopter parenting. For instance they could micromanage every single thing you do or have some sort of comment to make about every little thing you do (also applicable to aries and virgo moons). I also feel that cappy and scorpio moons may find it the hardest to detach from their generational trauma because their parents may have instilled strict principles/beliefs into them and they end up carrying forward all these beliefs which in return makes them more susceptible to repeating toxic patterns which then ends up causing A LOT of trauma to these individuals ❤️‍🩹

🦂 honestly taurus placements aren’t always mindful and demure, despite being ruled by venus. Most taurus placements (esp sun,moon and mars) are NOT afraid to call people out on their bs and are extremely straightforward and direct. The type to insult you straight to your face if you annoy them or smtg 😭 and you’d be like ouch, what was the reason for that??💀. They can come across as arrogant and rude sometimes BUT this all makes a lot of sense as a lot of them tend to be sidereal aries placements after all🙏😂

🦂 speaking of sidereal placements I wanna talk about how virgos can be super playful and child-like (esp with the people they are comfortable with) because they’re leo placements in sidereal + virgo placements also really crave attention, sometimes way more than Leo’s tbh✨

🦂 aries and scorp moon/venus women often attract guys who initially start off as wanting to be/being their “friends” BUT the only reason they wanted to be their friend in the first place is because they see potential for a romantic/sexual relationship with them. It’s sad because literally every guy friend you have/had TOTALLY had other intentions that weren’t platonic 🥲

🦂 having placements in the 2nd house (esp if there are no harsh aspects) just mellows down the intensity of the placement. For instance moon in the 2nd house people can regulate their emotions much more stable and easy manner. Having placements in the 2nd house is such a BLESSING.

🦂 if you think you know someone with a scorpio moon, moon in the 8th house or moon-pluto native, trust me you DON’T😭. no one will ever KNOW every single part of them. They remind me of onions yk? SO MANY LAYERS to them and no one will ever truly know everything about them

🦂 also idk if I’ve mentioned this before but CAN WE JUST TAKE A MINUTE TO APPRECIATE HOW FUCKING FUNNY/HUMOROUS CANCER PLACEMENTS ARE???? literally SO SO witty and make you laugh till your stomach hurts😭🫶🏻

🦂 with age, saturn in cancer natives can look a lot like their mothers 💗

🦂 shadow traits are often expressed through the moon and mars, as these planets govern our raw emotions and drives. For example, an aries moon’s may react with impulsive outbursts and frustration, while a scorpio mars might exhibit controlling, obsessive, or manipulative behaviors to maintain power. These primal reactions tend to surface under stress or vulnerability. To work on your shadow self, it's helpful to focus on your Moon and Mars placements, as these often reveal where you're repeating or expressing toxic behaviors. By understanding how these signs influence your emotional reactions and drive, you can better recognize and address patterns that need healing.

banner/pic credits to the rightful owners

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 8: The One About the Adjacent of Convenience

Are you guys ready to return to our regularly scheduled programme?

Actually, I must applaud the majority of the people who read my blog for how well they handled Sunday. It seemed many of you got a good laugh out of it and were then gifted Monday morning with an updated post from that dear restauranteur tossing out Lady Whistledown’s name for – honestly, I don’t know why he threw it out there. Do you?

Moving on…

Yesterday, I discussed Antonia. Today, I am going to venture over to the other side of the fandom and discuss – you guessed it – Jake Dunn.

And, no, I’m not summoning the Balrog today. In fact, I don’t equate Jake to a creature from the depths of Moria because, generally speaking, he doesn’t bother me.

Do I find him a tad annoying? Of course I do. But, only because the perception of his relationship with Nicola has been warped into something ass backwards (no pun intended) to anyone with two bits of common sense, and because he’s always inconveniently there.

At the right time.

For those pap pictures.

However, the rational side of my brain reminds me that if I don’t see anything romantic in Nicola’s relationships with, say, JVN, Mark, Golda, Jack, or either of the Dylans, I shouldn’t be bothered by her relationship with Jake. Would we be paying any attention to Jake if he wasn’t being shoved down our throats by anti-Lukolas? No, probably not.

But, here we are.

I will preface this entry with my belief that Jake did not ask to be linked romantically to Nicola. That was Deux Moi's doing. Keep that in mind as you read through this. Deux Moi created that bullshit plotline and then rabid dogs ran with it.

By the way, those are the people you should be worried about. The ones pushing their “Jakola” narratives with blind aggression. I’m talking about those “in your face” assholes whose real motive behind shipping Nicola with anyone-but-Luke is solely based on their rapid-fire hatred towards Luke. These people are not Jakolas; these people are the Jakholes.

*Oh, now is the time to slip this in… My disclaimer (or, my “ask”) for today is, let’s not pick on the Sincerely Ignorant Jakola shippers. They are just as volatile as the Sincerely Ignorant Lukola shippers. They spiral fast and hard, too. Seriously, don’t fuck with these people, please. I believe most of them to be nice people.

Thank you, next.

I know that some of you will argue that Jake is a manipulative little shit and intentionally tried to make connections between Nicola and himself by way of pictures in her personal spaces and a fucking bucket hat, and that may be true. In fact, I’ve heard this argument from Lukolas that I highly respect. It’s very possible Jake has taken advantage of his friendship with Nicola. I understand the argument behind this theory and, I’ll be honest, it has made me question Jake’s character.

But, that’s not the point I’m trying to make today.

Today, I want to focus on how Jake became an “adjacent of convenience.”

What is that exactly? Well, actually, I just now made that shit up. But, it means he’s an adjacent, not because he’s romantically involved with Nicola, but rather he was in the wrong place at the right time.

It’s funny to me, when you spend some time mapping out all the little nuances that make up the Lukola timeline, that you start seeing a bigger picture.

I do not know who was behind Papsmear. Word on the street is that it was Deux Moi. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually confirmed that so, for now, I can only speculate – and speculate I will!

If you look at events in chronological order, it is interesting that, in July, the day before a video of Luke and Antonia at the GQ dinner hit social media, Deux Moi posted old pictures of Luke and Antonia from, I believe, January. Why? It’s also interesting that the day before People Magazine published the Italy Pap pictures of Luke and Antonia, Deux Moi rehashed Papsmear. Again, why?

Do you see the patterns patterning?

I thought you would.

Then what happened?

Well, “Hot Boy Summer” suddenly came to an abrupt halt with Luke returning to London.

Alone.

Is it odd to you that Luke has not been papped with Antonia since the end of July? Because it’s pretty damn odd to me. Is it possible that Luke and Antonia ceased to be “together” at the end of July? If you have read my previous entry, you already know my opinion on this.

But, dammit, that’s a shame! No more scraps for the paps. How unfortunate for Deux Moi.

Okay, then what?

Well, “Chaos Week” began. We had Nicola posting a shit storm of content starting August 4 with French toast and ending August 16 with “Juna.” We had Wordle. We had Scrabble. We had the “Drink Your Milk” shirt. We had “Bless the Telephone.” We had “very demure, very mindful” (which, in my opinion, was confirming the intent behind “Chaos Week”). Oddly, all these things seemed to weigh heavily in Lukolas’ favor. We could even take it a bit further by including the August 22 “BTS Polin” picture and the August 23 “modern day carriage” story (you know, the picture of Nicola looking oh-so-come-hither-sexy in the back of a car), which was followed up two days later by JVN’s “finger” demo. I mean, the Lukola train was rolling, right?! Fuck, yeah, it was!

But, then it came to a very abrupt stop on August 25 when Deux Moi posted pictures of Nicola hanging out with Jake at a music festival. The narrative being given? Oh, so cozy vibes.

And, that’s the moment Jake became an adjacent of convenience.

Just from being at a concert.

Taking a picture with Nicola.

Before this point, did I know who Jake Dunn was? Yeah, I did. I’d seen – in fact DEUX MOI – post pictures of Nicola and Jake hanging out in a pub together in July. I’ll be honest, I looked Jake up at the time and everything I read about him seemed to point in the exact same direction it points to today – that he’s not romantically involved with Nicola.

In fact, I polled at least two dozen of my fellow Lukolas (with the majority of them being fellow Fact Finders, with a select few being “long haulers”) about whether they’d heard of “Jakolas” before August 25. Their answer was a collective and figuratively loud NO.

What does that say to you? It makes me believe that the Jakolas were born from those festival pictures.

How convenient.

Just a few short weeks after the Antonia/Luke ship (do they even have a name?) hit an iceberg (pun intended), we suddenly have the christening of a new ship. The USS Jakola.

How convenient.

Now, think about every good thing that has come about in the Lukola fandom since the Jakholes were released into the wild.

Every positive has been collectively counteracted with a negative.

Think about the timing of all those pap pictures with Jake.

Think about who is releasing those pap pictures.

Are the patterns starting to pattern in your head?

Think about how much effort Nicola has put into erasing the Jakola narrative.

Think about how little effort Nicola has put into erasing the Lukola narrative.

Think about how much that must piss the fuck out of the Jakholes. And Deux Moi.

Anyone want to go with me to rescue Jake from the USS Jakola? I heard the Jakholes put him in the hull closet.

If you have some hesitation, I suppose I could agree to keep him hostage until we know where his allegiance lies. But I'm thinking he's dying to get off that ship.

[eunxhan]

Ꮺ Anon Requested ⨾ Polyamory/harem relationship with head over heels bottom subs,, one is a cute shy guy who loves m reader so fucking much he doesn't mind getting cucked and stuff as long as it pleases reader,,another one is a hot sexy model who's very proud of his body, always taking care of himself so you'll praise him when you fuck him, taking care of his hair well so you can easily pull them,,, kinky sub who's into wild plays, totally devoted to reader and would do literally anything like damn.. Another cold aloof kind of man,, people are intimidated by him and he's all strong and one man army stuff.. Yet when it comes to reader he's just a mess like damn,, all these pretty, smart, strong subbies also has reader's personal brand on his skin,,, they're so head over heels they do anything for reader's acknowledgement,,,

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Oh my, It is lovely to see my sweets still active. I have been thinking about this entry the moment I came back in this platform. How I've missed all of you.. I did wrote them separately but I decided to write and post another where they all meet in the future. But anyways, what should we name these three?

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Ꮺ Disclaimer — NSFW.

Reader ⨾ MALE. YOU/YOUR.

Words used ⨾ 1578

Links ⨾ My Navigation

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Let's say, you're an average guy with a typical 9 to 5 job. You couldn't care less about what anyone has to say or do to you, yet three men managed to catch your interest. One of them being Shy!sub. It's not like you guys have been together since childhood; you only met during middle school.

Shy!sub is incredibly shy and easily embarrassed. He tends to blush a lot, especially around you. Even the slightest touch or intimate gesture from you can make him flush red.

Shy!sub is used to your rantings while playing with him, and sometimes, you being a little shit happens to take your anger out on him during your calls. He never says or complains about it; he just listens or sometimes even apologizes to you.

Shy!sub enjoys playing video games with you, even if he's not very good at them and you call him out for jt. He just finds it relaxing and a great way to bond with you. He often cheers you on during your gaming sessions.

Not only does he enjoys gaming, Shy!sub has a secret love for romantic movies. He often watches them when you're not around, dreaming of the day you and him will have your own romantic story.

Shy!sub looks at you as if he's admiring a piece of art, even if you're just there yelling and getting mad about something ridiculous. You can tell that he wants something else. But if you call him out on something, Shy!sub hates confrontations and avoids them at all costs. He would rather keep the peace than engage in an argument, even if it means holding back his true feelings.

Shy!sub is the type of person who's too soft for people like you to handle. He does your chores because he knows you're exhausted from your job or school, and even cooks for you.

Shy!sub enjoys cooking for you, as he sees it as a way to show his love and care for you. He often tries out new recipes, hoping to impress you with his culinary skills. If you point something out or compliment his cooking, be ready to see him almost everyday in your kitchen.

He acts more like a boyfriend than a best friend. One call of his name, and he's dashing towards you like a loyal dog ready to do what you ask. With him basically living with you, Shy!sub can sleep easily. He is afraid of the dark and often sleeps with a nightlight on. He sometimes asks you to sleep with him when he's feeling particularly scared.

Shy!sub never admits this but he secretly loves it when you get angry, as it shows your passionate side. He often provokes you, hoping to see your fiery temper.

When both of you started to have some intimate moments, Shy!sub got even more embarrassed but he never stops trying to tease you with his every move. He basically lives with you now from how much time he spends with you. Everything escalated quickly when you got home and saw him wearing something he normally doesn't wear.

Shy!sub looks so damn adorable in his light bubblegum pink lingerie, but you decided to keep it in your pants and let him explain what he was doing. You could tell he was about to burst out crying when you walked in on him.

—

Shy!sub's eyes widened as he realized you had caught him in his new attire. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart raced, fearing the worst. The lingerie, a gift from a secret admirer, was supposed to be a surprise for You. But now, with you standing in the doorway, the moment had been ruined.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but admire the way the lingerie hugged Shy!sub's curves, accentuating his hourglass figure. The sight of Shy!sub in such a delicate and feminine ensemble stirred something deep within you—a desire he had never felt before. But he knew the time was not right to act on it.

"It's... it's for you," Shy!sub managed to stutter, his voice trembling. "I wanted to surprise you. I thought you'd like it."

"Wow, I've never thought I would see this coming from you. Someone who is known to be easily embarrassed over everything." You could see the vulnerability in Shy!sub's eyes as you reply to him. It was a rare sight, and it tugged at your heartstrings. You knew Shy!sub's affections ran deep, and you couldn't bear to see him so distressed. So, with a smile, you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Shy!sub's cheek.

"You look amazing," You said, his voice soft and reassuring. "And I appreciate the thought. But remember, you don't need to do anything to impress me. I love you just the way you are."

Shy!sub let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him. He leaned into your touch, grateful for your understanding. The moment, though awkward, had brought them closer. From that day on, You began to see Shy!sub in a whole new light. Your words and gentle touch calmed Shy!sub's nerves. The tension in the room shifted, and a new energy filled the space. Shy!sub's heart fluttered as your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb gently caressing Shy!sub's soft skin.

Emboldened by your acceptance, Shy!sub leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. It was a tentative move, a test to gauge your reaction. But you responded with a hunger that surprised them both. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing and exploring each other's mouths. Shy!sub's hands roamed your body, feeling the contours of your muscles through your shirt. Your hands slid down Shy!sub's back, cupping his rear and pulling him closer.

The lingerie, once a source of embarrassment, now became a symbol of their growing desire. The soft fabric rubbed against your body, igniting a fire within you. Shy!sub could feel your arousal pressing against him, and it sent shivers down his spine. His mind were somewhere else as he softly groans in your ears, his mind tells him to beg you to do something more to him.

You both broke the kiss, panting and flushed. Your eyes were dark with desire, and Shy!sub's lips were swollen from your passionate embrace. The room was filled with a palpable tension, a promise of what was to come.

"Darling," Shy!sub whispered, his voice heavy with need. "I want you. I've always wanted you." he whined at the end. You didn't need to be told twice. You scooped Shy!sub into your arms and carried him to the bedroom, which made him more excited.

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Confident!sub, a charming and flirtatious individual, utilizes his natural charisma and wit to captivate those around him. Easily drawing in his audience, he leaves them craving more of his company. His tactics to garner attention, however, are solely to attract the cameras. When it comes to you, his dearest, he's wholly devoted.

His sarcastic nature and high tolerance levels add an alluring challenge to his persona, making him even more magnetic. For you, though, his sarcasm serves as a playful means of aggravation.

Confident!sub is confident in his physicality, maintaining his desirable physique through rigorous workouts. Brands and designers clamor for him to be the face of their new products, well aware of his pickiness when it comes to endorsements.

In his pursuit of physical perfection, Confident!sub adheres to a strict regimen of body care. His routine, from head to toe, takes a full three hours, with shower time not even included. If you need the bathroom while he's in there, you'll have to resort to forceful measures.

During his photoshoots, Confident!sub teases you with his movements and poses. He'll gaze hungrily at you, performing his job with you as his little assistant, always present in the room. If you're absent, his temper flares. So, sad to say that you're always with him in and out.

A possessive streak emerges in Confident!sub when he spots you admiring other models. With him in the room, half-naked and expecting your adoration, he takes offense at your gaze wandering to less attractive individuals. If you curse at him for his tantrums, his anger intensifies, believing you should have been fixated on him.

Confident!sub is unfiltered in his communication, voicing his thoughts at any given moment. Be it day, night, place, or time, he'll share his uncensored musings. With a bored expression, he'll casually mention desires like you satisfying him behind a door post-shoot or gripping his hair. One time while you were having breakfast, he mumbled something about how he dreamed about you pounding him for a photoshoot.

Despite his outward confidence, Confident!sub harbors insecurities deep down. He worries that one day, his looks might fade, and he'll lose the adoration he currently enjoys. So with you having around him, he dares not to let you go. He hates it when you look at other models that he finds intimidating. Whenever you reassure him about his insecurities, expect not getting out of the bedroom for atleast two days.

Confident!sub hates being touched by strangers. He becomes uncomfortable and edgy when people he doesn't know try to touch him. He's only comfortable with you touching him. You should be lucky that someone like him allows you to touch him, his words not mine.

——

After a long and tiring photoshoot, Confident!sub was ready to unwind. With his manager having rented a hotel room for him, he of course invited you to join him, knowing full well what he had in mind. You, aware of Confident!sub's intentions, eagerly accepted the invitation.

In the privacy of the hotel room, Confident!sub wasted no time in expressing his desires. You pinned him against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that could not be satiated. With you, equally aroused, gripped Confident!sub's hair, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

Confident!sub's hands slid down to your body, undoing your pants with a swift motion. He wasted no time in freeing his own arousal, rubbing it against yours before he could let you rub against his entrance. With a swift thrust, you entered him, filling him with your length.

The room was filled with the sounds of him screaming your name and the wet sounds. Confident!sub's moans echoed off the walls, a testament to his pleasure. You, gripping onto Confident!sub's hair, praised him for his skill and good looks, encouraging him to continue his plea.

Confident!sub, driven by your words, moving his hips at the same pace as you with a fervor that was almost animalistic. Your hands gripped on his hips, pulling him closer with each thrust. Him, lost in a sea of pleasure, could only hold on for dear life, his moans mingling in the air.

As you both reached your climax, Confident!sub's moans grew louder, your thrusts becoming more erratic. Him, gripping onto you tightly, felt his own release building. With a final thrust, you both reached, your bodies trembling with the force releasing.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Intimidating!sub, a formidable figure with a history in the military, bears scars on both his face and body. His imposing physique and commanding posture are enough to convey his cold and strict demeanor, deterring others from approaching him. Even children and pets are frightened by his aura.

Despite his chilling exterior, Intimidating!sub has a soft spot for his beloved. At the mere sound of his name, spoken by you, his defenses crumble. He prefers to reserve his genuine smiles for private moments, sharing them only with you.

In terms of protection, Intimidating!sub is unparalleled. His presence alone is enough to deter potential aggressors, as if he were a guard dog watching over you. His menacing appearance suggests he'd defend you with ferocity, ready to "bite" anyone who dares to bother you.

In private, Intimidating!sub reveals a sensitive side. He cries during movies or deep conversations, seeking your comfort. With his head resting on your chest, he finds solace as he weeps, trying to express his feelings or explain the emotions triggered by a film. He's known to shed tears privately if his actions upset a child or pet.

Intimidating!sub is an intellectual powerhouse, capable of answering nearly any query and solving complex mathematical problems in a matter of seconds. He's like a human calculator, with an uncanny ability to memorize information. This makes outings with him effortless, as you need not consult your phone for calculations or searches.

Eager for your affection, Intimidating!sub leans on your shoulder, a subtle request for attention. He demands your love, regardless of your current engagements. If he's bold enough, he'll wake you to share a tender gaze.

Embarrassed by his nocturnal desires, Intimidating!sub awakens from wet dreams, seeking solace in the bathroom. If he gathers the courage, he'll attempt to rouse you, his eyes pleading softly.

——

After Intimidating!sub woke you from your slumber, you noticed the flush on his face, a testament to his embarrassment. A soft whimper escaped his lips, "Please help me with this..." Your eyes followed his gaze downward, where you found his hardened length, throbbing and grinding against the material of his pants.

The sight was too enticing to ignore, and as he offered you a small, tender peck on the cheek, you decided to give in to his desires. You guided his hand to release his length from its prison, letting it spring free. The tip glistened with pre-cum, a clear indication of his arousal.

Intimidating!sub's eyes locked onto yours, pleading for your touch. You obliged, wrapping your hand around his shaft and beginning to stroke him gently. His breathing hitched, his face contorting in pleasure. You teased him, speeding up and slowing down your strokes, drawing out his pleasure.

As you continued, Intimidating!sub's body grew more tense, his hips bucking involuntarily. You could sense his impending release, and you leaned in, taking his length into your mouth. The sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him sent him over the edge.

Intimidating!sub cried out your name, his body trembling as he came. You swallowed his release, showing no signs of discomfort. When you pulled away, he collapsed onto the bed, his body slick with sweat.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and lowered yourself onto his still-hard shaft. He gasped, his hands gripping your hips as you began to ride him. The intimacy of this moment, with the dominant figure now reduced to the bottom, was intoxicating.

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@𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑿𝑯𝑨𝑵. Do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and/or confirmation.

[moldybonessmell]

"Deadpool and Wolverine": queercoding analysis of Poolverine in the movie

// SPOILERS

//Disclaimer: This is NOT a hate post to Vanessa/Wade shipp, but if you ship them, this post is probably not for you.

I've seen a few queerbaiting allegations and, frankly, don't agree with them. Now I'll explain why.

Starting with the fact that movie begins as a typical reasoning for a character to get a new love interest: we find out Wade and Vanessa broke up after roughly 7-8 years together.

Either we don't know (or I just don't remember lol) for how long they've been separate, but it was enough time for Vanessa to get in a new relationship.

And we know that the reason for this breakup is the core differences between the two. In the previous movie they wanted to get a child and Wade's entire motivation was based around Vanessa. In this movie tho, it seems like even if Wade is still not completely over breakup, he seems to be compliant with the fact they are not together anymore. You would expect Wade to go and do something silly to Nessa's new guy, but he doesn't. He respects her decidion.

Wade has more of an existentioal crisis than just hurting from the breakup. So I would assume he's not over because he feels like he messed up and keeps giving sad puppy eyes holding on this romantic relationship with Vanessa. Tho they are still soulmates and friends no matter what.

I don't know about you, but for me this exposition doesn't look like a foreshadowing of Vanessa and Wade getting back together. Vanessa is happy and self-actualised on her own, even if Wade is not.

I don't see Wade trying to change as an act of trying to get back with Vanessa. He reacts like this because his family member pointed out his flaws.

Secondly, the only other "hints" for a relationship between Wade and Vanessa is him remembering how they kissed and in the end Vanessa holding Wade's hand. Which, let me point out, is not a typical trope to show characters are back together. You know what's typical? A KISS! Which never happened btw.

Not to be this person, but we all know Disney/Marvel haven't got the balls to show a canon queer relationship. So the only "hints" for Vanessa/Wade seem to either read as platonic, or purely as an attempt of Disney to be like !look! female love interest!.

Now, other important part. If you really think about it, referencing the first part of the post, the movie follows an enemies-to lovers romantic movie formula:

(optional) breakup with previous partner;

annoyance first (previous deadpool movies);

admiration upon actual meeting (even if Wade acts cocky, when you listen to him telling the story about how his universe's Logan saved Laura, you can clearly see he adores the hero, who, as we know, is relatively similar throughout multiverse. Wade knows this Logan has the same morals as other ones, hearing how he regrets not being able to help his x-men);

"having to" go on an adventure/quest together even tho they are annoyed at each other;

enemies bickering and fighting because they have differences (which are actually similarities between the two which drive them insane when they see this mirroring);

the breaking point and confrontation (the Logan monologue in the car scene);

*the close proximity tention* hate fucking as a spicy way to get over the argument (in the car scene they are shown to fight just for the sake of letting out steam);

the cold period when characters ignore each other because they are still pissed (when Laura got the two to her base);

getting over it and working together, trusting that the other got their back;

saving the world with the power of love brotherhood with romantic soundtrack on;

both staying alive and having a heart-to-heart conversation;

one wants to leave, but the other stops them (usually it would be followed up with a kiss but oh well);

officially meeting a parental figure of one of the characters and moving in together as in an established relationship.

I don't think I'm delusional if I say I haven't seen brotherhood media (ones without queerbaiting or actual siblings) that would follow this formula. But I did see romantic storylines.

All in all, Wade and Logan go through a development and establishment of a relationship. And I'm not even talking about the obvious "one being there when other lost everything and giving them a new family and home".

In the movie there are so many romantic tropes of these CANONICALLY QUEER CHARACTERS, which make it safe to assume that queercoding is in fact happening. I would argue about it if both of them were straight in the source material, but this is the best and most important part, they are not :)

And this is why "Deadpool & Wolverine" is actually a romcom. Thank you for reading!

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Simon Riley NSFW hcs ♡

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Two lovely people asked for my NSFW Simon headcannons and I'm happy to provide!!

Just a disclaimer, these are my headcannons. If you have ones that are totally different, that's okay!

He's fictional and can be whatever you want him to be <3 (except a rapist. We don't do that here.)

If you have any COD thoughts or requests, my inbox is open!!

~ Fi 🐝

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I'm a soft!Simon truther until death.

There's not a single reality in which I can see him ever being too rough with you, let alone hurting you.

First of all, he has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's maybe had sex 2-3 times in his life and I don't think any of them were memorable or good.

I'd wager that all of them were hookups, encouraged by other soldiers to "let off steam". But Simon just can't do it, it feels so wrong. To give himself so fully to someone he doesn't even know.

There needs to be an emotional connection in order for him to feel comfortable and good. He needs to trust and love this person before he can do anything with them.

It's gonna take a while for him to open up, but once he does everything is smooth sailing.

(I also don't think he masturbated excessively. He probably jerked off, everyone gets horny, but especially if we say he's on antidepressants, his sex drive is pretty low. He's either too tired or just doesn't care)

Your first time together was fueled by a, not so uncommon, make-out session on his couch. It'd usually end with you grinding on his thigh or rubbing yourself over his clothed cock until you both reached a satisfactory end.

Simon thinks he could live an entire relationship with only sticking to dry humping, but in reality he's just terrified of the intimacy of real sex.

It's not too romantic, none of that rose petals lit candle stuff. It's not that Simon hates all of that, but I just think it'd be too much for the first time.

He's already so nervous (so are you probably if we're honest) and all that extra stuff would overwhelm the fuck out of him.

(He will spoil you with rose petals and candles another night, even if it just ends you with you falling asleep in eachother's arms <3)

Eventhough it's soft and sweet, you're both still very horny and basically rip the clothes off of the other.

Foreplay is important!!! (For all my girlies who don't drip down their thighs)

Not only for you but for him too. Even if he's rock hard already, he wants to enjoy himself, maybe be a tease. He will always make sure that you're okay and ready (and so will you bc he deserves it).

Would literally eat you out to calm himself down. He probably has fallen asleep while licking your pussy, it's his personal meditation.

Your taste, the way you feel on his tongue and the fact that he was two perfectly good pillows wrapped around his head made it easy for him to nod off.

Also, he prefers it hairy. (Fight me.) (pls don't)

I know it's cliche but he's like 2 seconds away from just coming inside of you the second he pushes in. Not only does he feel good but when he looks down he sees you and he could cry from how happy he is. He just loves you so much.

Can we please put the "You only take half of him" bullshit to rest??? Thank you. We all know Simon as BDE but let's keep it on the real side okay. He couldn't give less of a shit if you can take him to the hilt or not.

(Some gals physically can't bc if your vaginal canal is too short, then it's impossible. You don't want a bruised cervix, so don't be stupid) I do think when he's more comfortable about it and a little more desperate and rough, he'll play into the size kink.

He probably has a huge size kink anyway but he would never make you feel bad if you couldn't take all of him. (Especially if you're giving him head bc let's be real that thing is not going down no one's throat okay)

He has the prettiest moans. I JUST KNOW IT. they're more throaty and deep but they sound good. I honestly don't think this man is capable of whimpering (like physically. Not with that smoker lung) sorry babes.

Simon isn't too loud, but just enough to make you that much hotter. He will try to pull more moans out of you, like a little challenge for himself.

NONE OF THAT "10 rounds Riley" SHIT. (Have any of y'all ever had an orgasm before like?? Who the fuck is going ten rounds??? Not me that's for sure lmao) it really all depends on your guys' mood and neediness on that day.

I do think he can and wants to go a couple of rounds but it's probably more on the rare side and never more than 4.

He knocks out immediately. He's always tired anyways.

I think his favorite positions are missionary, prone bone, and cow girl. He likes the closeness, wants to feel every part of you and kiss it like his life depends on it.

The further you are into your relationship, the more new stuff you can try out. He's always gonna be hesitant at first but if it's not too out there he'll try it.

Simon will tell you if something is a hard no for him and he expects you to respect, just as he would for you.

Would 100% make you ride his face. Wants to he smothered in it okay. (Simon said sit, so sit.)

Simon would be down to tying you up (one condition; you're never tied to anything. In case of emergencies)

You won't get him to be tied up though, that's a real hard no.

I think the closest you'd get to a submissive Simon is if you order him around.

He's sitting on his knees before you and you tell him exactly what you want him to do (one thing Simon Riley can do is follow orders) and he'll pretend to let you be in control and maybe you are for a while, but deep down he's always in control (not necessarily sexual or possessively, he just needs the security)

He loves to get head (not as much as giving it tho) but he will never ever force his cock down your throat, even if you begged him.

He can't do it, won't do it. Has he had the urge and fantasies?? Sure, but it goes against everything he promised when you got into a relationship.

Sweetly suck on his tip and stroke the rest of his length and he's happy as a clam <3

His absolutely favorite thing is when you ride him in the morning. Just lazy and sloppy circles of your hips while you sit on top of him. He loves the sight.

Simon'll gently hold onto your hips and guide you if need be. It's even better if you're laying flush against his chest and the both of you are snuggled under the blanket.

Bonus; he loves to make-out with you. It's an unhealthy obsession that has led to too much lipgloss/lipstick ingested just bc the fucker couldn't wait 2 minutes for you to take it off.

Kissing you is his number 1 way to show you how much he loves you since words aren't his strong suit.

Needless to say, he's head over heels for you, and the sex is great. <3

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I hope you lovelies enjoyed it!

More of my works --> 💫

[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS PT 3 BUT IT'S JUST GAY

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, you've done part one, and part two, so why do we need a part three?" The answer is because of two things - one. I made a deal with the Tumblr Peoples that if one of my posts hit more than 50 likes I would do this analysis. Two. Mihoyo is making this shit canon. I CAN'T MAKE THIS UP. So, let's delve into my usual disclaimer, as we might have some new people joining us for the first time with my insanity.

I have been researching psychology personally for about six years, so although I am not a professional (crawling my way there through the education system. I will be one, one day.) I do have some experience with analyzing homosexuals. Psychology hours, my children. They don't call me "chronically cooking" for nothing. Maybe I should change my url to that...

NOW THAT MY LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, LET'S GET INTO THIS! It's time to deconstruct these homosexuals like a modern airplane, because they might as well be taking off with how canon they are.

"It can't be canon," they say, but then Mihoyo DOES PAID SPONSORSHIPS WITH THESE FUCKERS BEING GAY. We've all seen the paid partnership edit. We've all seen the video where Aventurine has the audio of "nice rack" as he talks to Dr. Ratio. PAID SPONSORSHIPS. Now, if that piece of evidence isn't enough for you - let's dive into their actual relationship, which is just a HOMOSEXUAL MESS. I will be focusing more on how Dr. Ratio sees this guy as this is a Dr. Ratio analysis™, but hey, the crumbs.. we eat 'em all. Amen.

Let's start off (I say as I write this part three days later) about how people are like, 'Aven is Ratio's favourite idiot' WRONG. Ratio does NOT consider Aventurine to be an idiot and knows that he is smart and capable in his own right. While Ratio is book smart, Aven is extremely street smart and holds his own very well. Ratio does not consider Aventurine to be an idiot as he takes off his plaster head around him and actually indulges in his whims around him. This is a blatant showcase of fondness because although he is emotionally constipated and can't be affectionate through words without sounding semi-backhanded because he's never had true affection in his life, he showcases his love through actions rather than words. He's just bad at showing love, okay? But he does love Aven. Or like him, to some extent, if you don't want to see them as romantic, which is fine. However, no matter what you label their bond as, it's obvious that they care for one another.

Also, the fucking ZEST FEST that was 'keeping up with Star Rail'. He says, "wait a minute - MUTUAL?" which indicates that he has respect for Aventurine in the first place. He LITERALLY TOLD US that he respects Aventurine and he was commenting on Aventurine's playstyle & everything.. also, at the end, he was here because 'I appreciate this show's dedication to knowledge' - his TONE. Kudos to the VA because that was not convincing at all. Bro was NOT here for the knowledge, bro was here to be GAY!!! Also his little own bathtub couch. We all know Aven bought it for him. Trust, I am John Hoyoverse.

"The Charming Audacity" HUH? BRO? Okay this is hilarious to me because this is the first time that we ever really see them interact with one another, and we get absolutely bitchslapped in the fact that Dr. Ratio calls this guy's audacity 'charming'. That's GAY. That's HOMOSEXUAL.

Also, comparing him to a peacock.. a very beautiful bird.... Must I say more?

Now, the part that I really want to focus on is the part where he gives the Doctor's Note to Aventurine. This shit is important. And I agree with the people who are like - Acheron helped him. Because she did. She was a big part of it and she helped Aventurine get back on his feet in the void. Dr. Ratio is not his only reason to live, but the note, showing that someone will stay by his side? Showing that someone truly cares for him? Someone who's waiting for him when he get back? This bond that he has with Dr. Ratio isn't fake. He already has a starting point to get back to - an anchor to return to. Dr. Ratio is his anchor. Whenever he goes off to do crazy shit, Veritas Ratio will be there when he returns. Because Ratio is loyal. Ratio cares. He cared enough to almost jeopardize their plan to make sure that Aventurine was going to be okay. He cares so damn much about Aventurine that he decided that this man's emotional state after the fake betrayal was more important than all of fucking Penacony.

If you want an example of "I would let the world burn for you," it's Ratio. He's a romantic not in the traditional sense, but he cares and loves Aventurine so damn much it makes my heart hurt. "Do stay alive," he says, knowing that Aventurine struggles with living. Those three words mean the whole fucking world to someone who struggles with suicidal ideation and suicidal thoughts. Someone wants you to live. Someone wants you to stay. Someone wants you by their side.

Dr. Ratio cares. Let me say that again - he cares. He banters with Aventurine, tries to create an environment where Aventurine can feel a little bit more comfortable with the two of them, even in a place as dangerous as Penacony. He will put his own life on the line for Aventurine.

He cares. He cares so damn much. I hate gay people. They make me VIOLENTLY homophobic.

Dr. Ratio after expressing his care indirectly and complimenting Aventurine indirectly: Did I do it?

Aventurine, who has caught none of the hints:

Anyway, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  9 / 9

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: ’twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved.

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5| chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | This is the last chapter! Please see the end for A/N.

Oddly enough, the initial thought that entered his mind when Y/N's father landed a punch on his face Friday morning was, ‘I deserved that.’

He didn't have difficulty dodging the floor, though, which was a blessing. Rubbing his jaw, he figured he probably wasn't hit as hard as the older man wanted. Stupid idiot, not a real fucking priest, fucking around with his sweet daughter, leading her on. “A real fucking piece of shit.”

As the accusations were hurled at him, his initial thought was, what could the man possibly be thinking?

Father Sylus might have had the same thoughts if the tables were turned, but he wouldn't have expressed them so boldly. Perhaps he understood the situation, and that's why he didn't try to justify himself. He could see where the man was coming from.

Now, standing in the middle of the church office, Y/N's father refusing to look at him or meet his eyes—that struck an awful chord. He kept his eyes downcast as Y/N's father continued his tirade. The words stung, each one a sharp barb, but deep down, he knew there was truth to them. He had allowed himself to grow too close to Y/N, to let his feelings for her blossom into something forbidden and dangerous. He knew that's what anyone would see.

"I trusted you," her father spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I trusted you to guide my daughter, not to take advantage of her. "

Father Sylus opened his mouth to speak. He was hoping to clarify some things, just for the record, and wanted to jump out the window when the words were: "I know this looks bad."

"You got that right." Y/N's dad finally looked at him; his irritation reflected the hell Father Sylus felt.

"Listen to me," Father Sylus made an effort to keep his tone calm. "This is bigger than you, or I, or..."

"Cut the shit, Father." This was Talia who spoke, glaring harshly and leaning against the wall, her finger pointed. The word 'Father' had never been used in a worse way. It was a slap that coiled around his neck, tightened till the muscle there contracted, and struggled against the tension.

"Think of the reputation the Catholic Church already has, going around accusing priests and nuns and bishops of all these -" She hissed, stopping herself. And before she began again, Father Sylus knew what the next words were.

What had to be done to protect the members. Not a fear of anything spiritual. It was the church's reputation as a whole, even if this had nothing to do with what she was speaking about. Even he knew that it wouldn't matter. Father Sylus merely chose not to see the faults, the perverse, or the corrupt except to acknowledge the horror that it was. This never stopped him from helping the people who most needed it.

He had just had dinner with most of them the other day, he had sat across the table with them after seeing a glimpse of life, not having the darkness or the lingering pain that lurked in the depths. Y/N had done that to him, making him believe that one person could do that much for another. Wasn't that what God wanted, too? to heal the blind, the broken, and the battered.

Still...

"What do you intend to do? Go to the local press? The national news channels?" Father Sylus continued, shaking his head slightly, trying not to let the anger get a hold of him. It came from hurt, loss, and a feeling that something was so close to crumbling and couldn't be put back together.

"She's the adult, but I should have never been so blind." Y/N's dad sounded upset and broken, really. It made the whole thing ten times harder.

"I'm calling the bishop, " Talia said, grimacing and picking at her fingers. The way she was unable to still herself was an annoyance. It was the sight of a restless mind struggling for rationale while the chest was heaving for solutions. She obviously did not think before the statement was released and in the air. She did not ponder such moments of stress, as she was like her.

"You can't." Father Sylus shot a look over to her.

"Why not?!" Y/N's dad spat, bristling as he stepped closer to the two. He did not look like he cared for the answer, but the words fell nonetheless.

And Father Sylus didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to put his feelings out there in the open without having them pulled apart, not having them twisted in front of his face.

"It doesn't matter. We all just need to be realistic about this." It fell with the delicacy of a pin dropped on a rug. It could be felt and heard but would not break anything.

It was difficult not to recoil from the words, not to flinch as they were released, a blade striking the target as the man across from him spoke again. "I expected more from you."

Father Sylus swallowed down the guilt, straightening. He had to remind himself it wasn't just about him. There was someone who cared for him dearly, someone he cared deeply for. And he would die before feeling regret eat him from the inside out, as it certainly was trying to do now.

It didn't stop there, however; Talia shoved off the wall and stared wide-eyed. "Why didn't you stop this sooner?"

He sighed, feeling irritated at the insinuation. "Why do you think?"

That stopped Talia short. It was blunt and not entirely his intention. But Talia was his friend. If he could call her that, he trusted that she knew what he meant.

Father Sylus knew they were all human, with their own desires and temptations. Every day, he prayed for strength to resist them, but when he eventually gave in, he did not push away those thoughts. Instead, he had acted upon them.

You learn something from your mistakes. Only this wasn't a mistake. In seminary, Father Sylus was taught to trust himself, that his heart and his mind and God would lead him the right way. He didn't understand back then why the other priests seemed so set in their views, so careful to examine every word and question the meaning behind it. But he was beginning to now, more than ever. A clarity had washed over him like the first rays of light entering a dim cave; it had struck him with vigor.

Talia knew. He saw it in her eyes, how she took a slow breath and glanced at the floor, clutching her skirt in her hands. She wasn't often silent, and it didn't take long for the silence to get to him, nor the stress from both Y/N's dad, and the situation itself.

"It still isn't right." She whispered, and he thought it was supposed to sound harsh, but instead, she only sounded defeated. Her words had lost their bite.

Father Sylus closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the ceiling for a moment, praying that the words would fall straight from his tongue without failure, without a hesitant breath, or pause for composure. His heartbeat grew a little steadier, and his nerves were soothed.

And looking at Y/N's dad then, a soft, disheartened smile graced his face. "I apologize. I know it isn't right; I do. Sometimes you fall in love, though."

A flinch, the man’s eyebrows pulling together, frowning and staring him down. A shadow covering the kind look that was once in his eye. Those pupils widened, taking him in. "What did you just say?"

The heart cannot be controlled, cannot be measured or weighed, and can't even be seen by human eyes unless you cut the chest open and expose it to the cruel outside world. Father Sylus didn't find it so cruel anymore, though.

That was a thought for later. Another time. One day. He had faith in that. For now, though, it was like the ground had begun to crumble, and the cracks were traveling so swiftly, further and further apart, spreading and reaching toward those who stood above.

"You heard me." And his heart shouldn't pound like this, his palms shouldn't sweat, and his stomach shouldn't feel like there was an eel thrashing around. "I don't know what the future holds, or how this will unfold, or how God will punish me for this transgression."

Some color had drained from Y/N's dad, and Talia went beside him, gently touching his shoulder and giving him a stern look—one Father Sylus hadn't yet seen from her. He noted that he probably should have thought about that or how different things were about to be.

"Father," Talia let go of the man, taking a step towards him, leaning in with a shake of her head, hissing. "This is blasphemy."

Father Sylus merely shrugged, figuring she probably never had an excuse to use the word until now, which was why she used it.

"I'm not throwing myself a pity party or turning this entire thing around to act like I'm some selfless martyr, Talia."

Y/N's dad shuffled from foot to foot, "This can't be happening."

The crack in his voice pulled on Father Sylus' heartstrings, making him feel the desperation in his skin, how uncomfortable and conflicted he felt, how ugly and dark the entire situation was, and how deep into the spiral they had all found themselves. But then his mind went to Y/N, thinking about what she was doing and if she was okay, and as much as it killed him, there was hope.

"It shouldn't, but it is." Father Sylus took a steadying breath.

There was a slight shift in the room, and maybe they hadn't expected his response or didn't expect it to be so direct, or maybe they hadn't been told the priest had such a strong opinion on this stuff. Father Sylus wasn't sure, but he knew it was out in the open now, and it couldn't be undone. Maybe it couldn't be fixed either , but he certainly wasn't letting this slip through his fingers.

Y/N's dad was now leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, avoiding the gazes of both the priest and Talia. The man could only shake his head and squeeze his eyes shut.

"I'm having a hard time thinking this is real, " he croaked, making Father Sylus only more sympathetic. He understood how frustrating and unsettling the situation was, especially for someone like Y/N's dad, someone who had suffered a loss.

"I am the one who is responsible, and -"

"Nothing is ever cut and dry with her, though. I should have known." Y/N's dad interrupted, making his way towards the office door. "I'm buying her a ticket back home."

Father Sylus swallowed past the lump in his throat, "She's not going to like that."

"Does it look like I care?"

Father Sylus walked forward quickly, going over to stop him from leaving the room, although the effort was pathetic. The others' feet stopped right at the threshold. "You shouldn't. You might never see her again." He wasn’t sure why he said those words exactly, for he himself knew they weren’t true.

Y/N's father stiffened, "Is that a threat, Father?"

Father Sylus held up his hands, realizing how his words had sounded. "No, no, of course not. I just meant... Y/N is an adult, like you said. She makes her own choices.”

"Never again?" Talia echoed a bit too late. Didn't it just seem cruel to leave a puzzle in the middle of the game unfinished? The outcome was inevitable, but the journey, how the road was set, and where it would lead next were so mysterious and overwhelming at the same time.

"I'm trying to make this easy." Y/N's dad narrowed his eyes, shoulders tensing.

"Go ahead, send her back home, push her away, be left wondering why all the time." Father Sylus challenged. It was for more selfish reasons than he wanted to admit to at the moment .

"Don't play that card, not now."

That was the best advice, and Father Sylus took a step back, trying to find peace, "Look, it won't change anything. This town is small and people will talk regardless."

If there wasn't anything more to discuss, if the secrets would be allowed to settle and people would stop breathing them into the air, the wounds might be given enough time to heal. Yes, occasionally getting better with a friendly nudge was much more manageable. But they were all human, after all, weren't they?

"I'm calling the bishop," Talia repeated her earlier statement, but Father Sylus didn't show that it affected him.

"Do what you want."

Talia gaped, at a loss for words, stunned even. This seemed unfair; he had taken more than a second to think about this, something he had acknowledged long before that evening with Y/N came. Sure, some aspects were shocking and made his pulse speed up, and yeah, now that the secret was out, it should have been a relief to confess to Y/N's father about his feelings.

But his own feelings weren't what was important here, and that hurt, maybe more than some would believe it could. He could accept it, though, for her. So that a bit of happiness could seep into her skin and settle in her heart.

Even if that meant giving up one of the things he treasured most. It was disappointing to say the least. Not nearly enough of a punishment. What would happen to him? To Y/N? Now, that would have to be a part of the unknown, his penance that no one else could take. Only he and the Lord could decide upon that. And maybe He already had; maybe this was the judgment, the sins out in the open.

God would decide.

Y/N's father stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud. Father Sylus flinched at the sound, closing his eyes briefly as he tried to gather his composure. Talia remained, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she stared at him.

You were used to panic. When living alone in your apartment, stress had a tendency to bottle up and fester into something you couldn't quite comprehend.

Sometimes, it would end with a bottle shattered and your body tired and sore, but this felt different. Your father confronting you had felt different. Especially when the emotions in his eyes were not directed at you; instead, they were pained. And when he pressed his lips together and cast his gaze elsewhere, the dull, throbbing pain settled in your chest, refusing to subside.

God, you really were a horrible daughter. Wretched. Narcissistic. The worst. A sinner, a demon, a fool, and an idiot who never thought. At this point, maybe they were a fair assessment, and the words you assumed your father had thought would surely follow you for the rest of your miserable life.

Standing in your room now, you couldn't stop thinking about Father Sylus. You remembered the feeling of his arms, that warm touch, and the depth of his crimson eyes.

And in the silence of your room that night, your suitcase packed and ready to go with the earliest flight your father could book back out west - you did something you hadn't done seriously in a very long time.

When you were younger, you often kneeled in front of the windowsill after your mother passed. Closing your eyes or keeping them open didn't make a difference. Lacing your fingers together and resting your chin on the backs of your hands - you used to pray. For good health, for the pain to fade, just for those stormy emotions in your head to settle.

Who knows, maybe your mom was listening. Kneeling next to you in spirit and pleading for you not to forget her, pleading for you to accept and love yourself. At the time, those moments were meant for her memory. But after getting older and finding a new curiosity about the world, they were soon forgotten, too.

And maybe you were trying to help yourself then. With nothing else to really lose, you resigned yourself to praying for a different outcome, pleading for a change that was in the hands of another.

It was so hard, kneeling there, like the strength to keep your composure was slipping from you. Each breath constricted, and with each time your eyes watered and the tears slipped past, you told yourself to keep strong. Asking someone else for an answer wasn't the best idea; maybe you were hoping for the impossible.

"Hey," you began quietly, biting back the tremble. "I'm- really not one for this. Stuff. And I hope that you're hearing me because..."

You fought to take deep, steady breaths and force the words beyond your clenched teeth. The thoughts were just as difficult to manage, and you had to shut your eyes tightly to calm the trembling within.

"If you could help, I'd appreciate that. Sorry, I don't deserve it, but that's selfish. Um, my-" and you gripped your hands tighter together.

"Can I ask for something, please?" Struggling past the lump in your throat, you swallowed hard. "I know, it's selfish. Prayers aren't really something that should be turned into a list of wishes..."

You knew. God had more important things to be doing than waiting for a scum like you to apologize and plead for help. He would guide the ones who listened, studied His word, did good deeds, and praised Him. You were none of those things; you had fallen off that path long ago.

"So, I'm not really sure if I should, but please, just help me," You cracked. Holding your hand over your mouth and trying to gasp in oxygen, you could hardly control the shuddering; it only made your heart pump faster, and the pain grew tenfold.

"He- Father Sylus - just keep him safe. That's all. I lov - he deserves it. You can't forsake him. If it wasn't for him - I just want him to be okay. I don't deserve anything; I just - I'll ask for this, even if I don't deserve to have that happen."

Father Sylus would listen, and the thought of that broke you. You just, needed someone to listen. Father Sylus deserved the best. God would surely grant him that. And you...

"God, I have never needed help as badly as I do now."

And still, a dark part of you couldn't allow yourself to think that He'd listen. He would pick others because it was the right thing to do—or the punishment. How awful would it be to answer for your deeds, the wrongs, or the filthy stuff that happened over the past few weeks? Maybe this was karma kicking in.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you opened your eyes, looking out the window at the night sky above. It was illuminated with stars that glittered so greatly that anyone could see the wonders. Did anyone stop to appreciate it, or did everyone just gloss over it without a care or a glance? Was that what it was like to look at your mistakes and not learn, apologize, or regret them?

It was not the future that hurt the worst, no. Nor was the loss, change, or distance. It wasn't even the uncertainty that clawed up your spine and clung to your clothes like dirty water. That seemed the least of your worries because the lack of time and the chance of missed opportunity made the pain bloom somewhere deeper.

The church was quiet as you walked in, the early morning light peeking through the windows. The familiar sensation of wooden floors beneath your shoes, a comfort, a normality, and a sense of guilt. Because you shouldn't have been there, but a coward you were, and the thought of avoiding one last goodbye wouldn't leave you alone.

Because deep down, a sick part of you wished the plane would crash. You weren't even on it yet, either. But the thought of not having to deal with the other options, choices, and consequences, and the pain of letting him go, had made your decision so much easier.

Oh, and like a magnet being attracted to its pole, you saw Father Sylus, looking out his office window.

He looked peaceful, holding the rosary and slowly running the beads between his fingers. He was humming something. All that could be heard was the slight hum, off-tune, but you recognized it.

Do not be afraid; I am with you.

When the humming stopped, you were surprised to realize you had walked to him without making a sound.

"You shouldn't be here." Father Sylus informed you, not bothering to look over his shoulder. Did he already know it was you? The words were not said to send you away. Instead, they held no weight behind them, and if that weren't enough of a giveaway, the soft smile as he turned was enough to confirm it for you.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving." It sounded so different out loud, and his shoulders didn't slouch; in fact, they stiffened. At the sight, your mouth watered, and your tongue started to feel heavy.

"I'm sorry, Sylus." You murmured, reaching forward to brush your hand on his arm; how he jolted made you retract your fingers.

His deep, red gaze finally fell upon you, and the color drained from his face. A shaky exhale fell past his lips as his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"What are you apologizing for? You've done nothing wrong, Y/N."

That couldn't be farther from the truth. But for the first time, you wanted to avoid correcting him. "So you're okay, right?"

There was a pinch to the tenderness; if you looked any closer, you could see him struggle with the answer.

"That's always a little tricky to figure out, isn't it ?"

And his smile was so endearing, and you couldn't stop thinking about the act that had taken place in this very office not long ago. Soaking in his presence and finding comfort in his touch, cherishing his scent. That urge to cry was back, and you stumbled forward, crashing into his side and burying your face into his chest.

"It hurts." You whined, a trembling hand gripping the material of his sweater. You'd always hated yourself for needing others, being weak, and not being able to fix things on your own.

"I know," Father Sylus smoothed your hair back." I didn't want this for you; you were just supposed to be happy."

You pulled back abruptly, eyes wide and a gasp catching in your throat. He grimaced, taking a hand and tapping a finger to his temple. "Everything moves and nothing is concrete, yes?"

"Please say you aren't feeling guilty." As soon as the words left your mouth you chastised yourself.

Father Sylus and his guilt, trying to swallow down the emotions when he should have just let himself have what he wanted.

"I know what it's like to have everything taken from you," you said, "to fall in love for the wrong reasons—with the wrong person."

The reminder shocked him, and his fingers ghosted against the skin beneath your collarbone, sending warm tingles up your neck, almost enough for you to lean against his hand.

"Stop."

And he sounded hurt, that frown appearing again, and when his eyebrows furrowed, well, something about it never failed to have your heart hammering in your chest.

"It shouldn't have happened - everything." Your nails dug into your palms painfully. "If it hadn't been for me - then maybe you could-"

"Stop." His deep voice was a growl, and his hand traveled up to grip your chin, tilting your head so that you were forced to look into his eyes—so sharp, so beautiful. "Don't talk like that. I won't accept that."

Despite the intense gaze, his fingers caressed your cheek so lightly, making your lips quirk up at the affection, relaxing instantly. Then his thumb rubbed gentle circles, and the soft gaze the two of you shared had your face heating up under his attention.

"It was me. I knew what I was doing," he smiled a little sheepishly. "I'll take the blame, the repercussions."

His tender gesture had you biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes to blink away the tears. Why did he have to care? Why did he have to try so hard? What had you done to deserve such admiration and devotion?

"What'll happen to you?" You wondered aloud, because as long as you didn't watch him break, as long as you didn't see the destruction firsthand, it might not hurt as much.

"I'll leave, most likely."

"Where are you going?"

Father Sylus just smiled, leaning in and pressing his lips softly to yours. He kissed you sweetly for a moment, and you pressed into the familiar gesture with everything you had.

His fingers curled into your waist, clutching onto the material of your shirt in a way that had your pulse quickening, and a shaky breath falling from your mouth. When he pulled back, it was too soon. And when he gave you a smile that had your knees buckling, he said something that would stay ingrained in your memory.

"God is everywhere, and therefore so am I."

And while those words did a pretty good job, the promise in his tone, along with that intense stare, had your hands fisting in his sweater, your body becoming jittery, the nerves sending pinpricks under your skin. The intensity is almost too much for you to process.

"I don't know anything about love," you whispered, "or why God makes us do stupid shit.”

"Because He wants to see us fall so that we may rise back up again."

"Then I'm happy, to have fallen for you."

He raised an eyebrow at your statement, and even though you were trembling, both from nervousness and fear, you felt a surprising warmth erupt in the pit of your stomach. A content and comfortable glow settled all around you as the words began to spill from your mouth.

"I myself go because of you, and your...your kind heart, and - oh, and your hair and - and - I love you."

With a huff, Father Sylus pressed another kiss lips , silencing you. Your breathing became somewhat labored. And instead of letting your emotions overwhelm you any more than you could handle, you laughed nervously as you pulled back to get a look at his face.

"California is great this time of year." You added.

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding content but not surprised. In fact, it seemed more as if he'd known what you were about to ask before the words had even left your mouth. You weren't sure if that was comforting or worrying.

But, Goddamnit, it was the best and most incredible possibility you'd ever been given the chance to express. And if this was real, and if it was heaven or hell, or wherever was next, it would matter so much more, so you knew you needed to be selfish just once more.

"I don't have anybody," You told him. “In California.”

And then Father Sylus shook his head and pressed his lips together, and panic erupted in your chest before anything had been spoken. It was this pit in the pit of your gut, churning, the fear mounting, telling you not to get your hopes up because if you were to get it up again, that would mean ripping yourself apart and rearranging everything inside.

"You have plenty of people in your life, Y/N." Father Sylus informed you. "And me, well, I don't have a home, really. Besides, not everyone likes the beach."

You could have cried. After so much stress, worry, and sorrow, you wanted to sink back into his arms and let him hold you forever. "Maybe I'm sick, Father. Maybe I'm broken beyond repair, and no one can fix that but you ."

With a sad smile, Father Sylus' thumb brushed over the tears on your cheek, and you loved how warm he was.

"No, you're not. You are coming home; that's the biggest victory you could have achieved. And just..." He cleared his throat, the emotion seeping in.

What did I do?" You asked.

"You sought to heal your crushed spirit." To calm the quivering, Father Sylus gripped your chin again to make you meet his eyes. "You did that. Not me. Not God. You did that."

"I need you." you urged, pulling on his collar.

"I know," he murmured. His dark and hooded eyes flickered down to you briefly. Those soft lips and mouth open, and that deep voice caught your name on his tongue.

"Say it." you pleaded. "You've given me the confidence, so please-" Your fingers tightened around his , begging him to stop stabbing your heart a little further until it finally broke. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you," he assured. His hand cupped the side of your face, long fingers sliding over the skin, tugging the ear and moving strands of hair. And then he glanced up, the light overhead piercing his orbs, and you thought you saw some tears cling to the ends of his eyelashes.

In those little touches, it was in that moment, and the kindness showed through how his thumb caressed the soft spot behind your ear. And the heat that radiated off of him, giving you every impression of being comforted. Or perhaps it was how your heart pounded erratically, sending sparks behind your eyelids. But either way, it was at that moment you realized something.

This was a test. That’s all it had been.

"I love you," Father Sylus muttered once more. Lips parted open just a bit too long until all that could be heard was the wind howling against the window as winter gradually left its mark.

It took a second, before you were forced to take a deep, slow breath, the shaking of your nerves refusing to leave. "I have to go." When Father Sylus looked at you with those beautiful crimson orbs, you smiled sadly. "I’ll miss my flight."

And he nodded, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, the sudden reality washing over, taking the ease and settling the ache back into the chest where it had started.

"I heard California is nice this time of year." Father Sylus said.

"Yes," you agreed, chuckling slightly. "The waves are nice. Perfect for when you're excommunicated for sleeping with a parishioner."

"Sounds pretty spectacular."

And it did, and the thought of having him beside you through the change flushed out the pressure of anxiety and sadness . "And the view over San Francisco Bay is spectacular."

You weren't sure what made you say it, or why a sudden burst of confidence swelled. All you knew was, suddenly, with Father Sylus, there were no secrets.

Father Sylus tilted his head, regarding you curiously. He brushed a strand of hair from your face before meeting your eyes, crimson locking with your gaze. "What kind of view are we talking about?"

"Nothing like you've seen before, Sylus." He had to understand , it was an easy realization, really, "Out west, the sunrise is just..."

No lies. No secrets. For all you knew, it could be one of the last times you saw him. Did that still have the same effect, knowing neither of you was being forced away?

"Do I have a chance?" He asked, and you didn't have to think hard about the question to understand its intent.

He trusted you, but would it be enough? Would he be enough?

Would it be enough to see you smile each morning when you caught his attention, his lips quirking up into that beautiful half grin? Holding onto you when you slept, fingers woven in your hair, or feeling your body shifting against his side. Seeing you get ready for work in the bathroom, hearing the song you hummed to yourself. The kind words he would give after seeing you dance without music. Watching you grow happy each time he kissed your skin and marked you and sent shivers up and down your spine. And would those rare moments of passion that allowed you to feel his emotions, bursting from his fingertips and flowing through his mouth and radiating off of his heart, be enough for him to overcome the differences?

Was he willing to ignore the ways in which the two of you were so intrinsically flawed and simply fall in love with the parts that still bore so much trust and content, maybe even peace?

Would seeing your smile every day be enough?

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, the silence filling the room with a melancholy aura until you finally spoke.

"You always have a chance."

When you pulled away, there was nothing but an unsettling quietness—just the humming of the clock, the steady breaths, and the wind outside.

It wasn't exactly like you were perfect, or doing anything right. If anything, you were the one who had it the easiest because once you had opened the door, he just had to walk through it. And while it hurt to look upon the uncertainty, the truth was that you were hopeful. A piece of you had slipped through the cracks, and come back, crawling forth to reach the surface.

It wasn't blind or naïve, the hope that held you or had held you this entire time. But it was there, and so were you.

An imperfect man who had made mistakes and wasn't much different than yourself. Once upon a time, you had known, to accept the flaws, the hurt, and the people inside of them. That's all that God wanted from people at the end of the day, right?

A person. A soul. An existence.

That's all anyone could ever be.

Somehow, by the grace of God, you would allow yourself to bask in this feeling of worth, redemption, and mercy, regardless of the fact that a darker part of you would say you didn't deserve to be saved.

But love, even if it doesn't last, will have no other purpose other than what it is. And that's enough.

With one last glimpse, your hands fell into your pockets, and you took a deep, shuddering breath. Your resolve was not broken; it was accepted and resolved, and you glanced up with a confident step to the door, a prayer in your head.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The End

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91 A/N:

If listening to author song picks gives you brain zaps, I suggest listening to these if you're a loser like me who stays to watch the credits of a movie: You knew this one was coming, right? Headphones encouraged. SYMBOLISM, my friends. The song mentioned in the chapter, but not specifically mentioned except for one line from it.

I am so incredibly grateful to have had the friends that helped me write a good majority of this. Words cannot express how *sigh* blessed I feel to have had help so my dumb brain could write properly, or word things differently, or remember how Catholicism worked. This probably wasn't the AU anyone wanted, or expected. But here we are, and this has BLOWN UP in ways I didn't expect. It even inspired ART from somebody. I can't believe it. It honestly warms my heart so much at how much attention this has gotten. I myself struggle with a lot of confidence/religious guilt/relationship issues that our MC in this story faces, so I am so happy it's touched others. I wanted this to be a lot longer, but I have ideas for more horrible fics and more horrible AU's, so I need the headspace for that. I am also working on original stuff. And all good things must come to an end. I apologize if this is a cliffhanger for a lot of people, but considering this was written from a 'reader' perspective, I didn't want to twist it too much in a certain direction. So, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to those who have read, will continue to read, and interact with me about this fic. LDS has become such an important game to me and the depth of Sylus as a character makes me want to pull my hair out and also punch him in the face (affectionately). If you enjoy my work, please let me know. Your support means the world. <3

My kofi page if you want to further support me. Never required but always appreciated!

[explaintome]

Dear Mouthwashing fandom, explain to me, why next to the incredible fan art, I find a fuck ton of shipping content, especially between characters where this is highly problematic? SPOILERS FOR MOUTHWASHING AHEAD CN for talk about sexual abuse, death, suicide & violence

DISCLAIMER: I do not shame the general practice of shipping at all. I am a shipper myself and I think it makes up for a lot of interesting dynamics and narratives outside the canon. Shipping is an important pillar of fandom communities and I am unable to forbid you to do it. HOWEVER, in the case of Mouthwashing I want to talk about what, in my opinion, feels tone-deaf to the themes and the canon of the game. But let me start with a short summary of the game before I get into it.

Mouthwashing is basically a visual novel that takes place on the Tulpar, the last manned cargo ship of the company Pony Express. The crew, consisting of Caption Curly, Co-Captain Jimmy, Nurse Anya, Mechanic Swansea and his intern Daisuke, is confronted with a crash against an asteroid and the consequences following it. The story is told out of order to reveal the truth bit by bit. What caused the crash, what happened and how the crew deals with the time afterward being stuck on the ship. Revealing sexual abuse, tragic backstories, the horrible side effects of late state capitalism and the neglect of people in command towards the people they are responsible for.

To boil it down we have two men who, out of societal misogyny, hurt the only woman on their crew by assaulting her or not acting as they should have in their position of responsibility. All of this would not have happened if Jimmy didn't rape Anya and impregnate her, and if Curly had disciplined Jimmy in a capacity possible on the ship and in Jimmy's position as co-pilot. To be honest, with the amount of automatization the ship has, I don't think they need Jimmy if it is not a case of emergency, but I digress. Jimmy is the perpetrator of the story, but Curly is an accomplice in putting his aim of finding a solution and compromise over punishing his subordinate as he should have.

And now to my actual point: I am a big fan of the game, the narration style and the utter tragedy of 5 people losing their lives in the isolation of space, with their company not giving a shit about them. Otherwise, they might have been rescued much earlier or at all. Or had enough cryo pots in the first place. Or a nurse with experience. Or any amount of better equipment and not the most cheap shit that somehow made it through a resemblance of regulations. There are probably no regulations.

Being a fan I, of course, looked into the hashtags on several social media sites, and between the incredible art and analysis of the game, I quickly found shipping content, and I have no idea why. I have literally no idea how that narrative speaks to you in a way of shipping characters romantically/sexually. Especially three shippings really rub me the wrong way.

ANYA/JIMMY

Are you fucking kidding me? Literally, what is wrong with you shipping a victim with their abuser? There was not one interaction between them, that suggest that there was consent or affection, that Jimmy has any sympathy for Anya. He knows what is going on, he knows that Anya is pregnant and takes no responsibility. Even worse, his idea of FIXING this was to kill everyone, at least himself, to avoid responsibility! Same goes for AUs where she kept the baby and is somehow okay and happy? I get the urge to fix it, but that is not a good fix. There is no good fix if you are pregnant due to rape.

ANYA/CURLY

A lot of argument I hear for that is that "at least Curly is her friend and was nice to her" and if that is your whole foundation of argument, I want to ask what your standards for a relationship are. Please know that you deserve more than the bare minimum. Another question in that context: Is Curly really Anya's friend? His friend was abused and instead of protecting her, he tried to reason and help her abuser! That is not the behavior of a friend! There is no "but Jimmy is his friend too!". If your friend is an abuser and that does not make you stop being their friend....why?

JIMMY/CURLY

It feels like it is a law on the internet, that two men who look at least averagely handsome will be shipped, especially if they have the tiniest of connection to each other. I am not even sure if I would call them friends in the first place. It appears that Jimmy, whatever his bad life before that job was (thanks to the developers for not giving us a backstory), he is still absolutely unsatisfied with that he has. He is jealous of Curly and his position, seeing how quickly he takes on the Captain title after the crash and only realizes far too late how hard the position actually is. Curly on the other hand feels a bit like a people pleaser to me. He probably had pity for Jimmy, took him under his wing to help him? Fix him? Whatever it is, it made him ignore Jimmy's bad side to a fatal degree. I respect the toxic yaoi but are you sure?

TLDR; I am worried about how the practice of shipping developed, from a way to extend the canon, explore queerness in cis/straight dominated media, into a compulsion of where some people can't look at any form of media or constellation of characters without immediately smashing them together like dolls. If you do this, maybe step back for a minute and ask yourself if it is appropriate. On that note, same goes in case you defend Jimmy. Why?

[grogwrites]

Stranger - O.P. 81

Part Three - Final Part

part one • part two • part three

Summary: When someone returns to Oscar’s life after years apart, he has a hard time finding common ground with her to reconcile the feud between them. That is, until she signs on as a driver for the upcoming F1 season. Then he can’t seem to get her out of his mind.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Female OC

CW: Dual POV series. Please take my warnings seriously before continuing on. This series is not for everyone, as consistent depictions of mental health struggles are conveyed in the writing, primarily PTSD and loss of a loved one. angst (shocker), swearing, depictions of PTSD, mentions of death and car crashes, crying/anxiety attacks, Lando’s a twat at first, slight suggestive content, some making out, FINALLY SOME FLUFF (only took us three parts to get there, right gang?)

A/N: THE FINAL PART! 🥹🩵 thank you all for the love you’ve shown to Claire and Oscar. I may do a little epilogue part if it has enough interest shown towards it. I’ve loved writing this, though, and I hope you all have loved it as well 🫶🏻

Word Count: 3.5k

* DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

She didn’t necessarily remember how the argument started, but she was surprised how quickly things escalated. Fire and ice. Claire absolutely hated how Oscar clocked her shit like that. Then again, he always seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

She stared back at Lando—the image was like a stand off: the two of them on either side of his living room, trying to think of the next word or phrase to leave their mouths. Her dad’s voice was echoing through her head as she tried to calm herself down before her anger managed to boil over. Breathe, Claire. Breathe.

“You used me,” He finally accused, taking a few steps closer. His voice was quiet, calculated. She countered his movement by backing herself into the wall, distancing herself from him.

“We used each other,” she barked in response. “You know we did. We agreed to keep things surface level, so you can’t come at me and—“

“No, because I can,” he dug his phone out of his pocket, before flashing her a text conversation between himself and Edith. So much for being friends. Claire was about at the point of shutting everyone out again, just like she did in Seoul. She could almost laugh at how Edith was so quick to backstab her in such a manner. Claire had done nothing but stick up for her, and here she was now: throwing Claire under the bus for the opportunity to suck Lando’s dick. “She said you research your competition—you find their weakness so you can try to drag them down.”

“I do,” Claire retorted as she quickly met his gaze. It was slightly a lie, but she was too pissed at him to try and correct the accusation. Her chest was burning up with anger. “It’s a damn good strategy, too. I do what I can to win.”

“You haven’t even started in F1 yet,” Lando scoffed as he put his phone away. “What do you know about winning?”

Lando was talking about racing, she knew that. But yet…his words seemed to cut deeper inside of her—winning. She felt her shoulders slump. Sure, she was one hell of a race car driver, but in other aspects of her life, she failed. She failed with Oscar…she failed with keeping her dad alive…she failed with maintaining relationships, platonic or romantic. And now here she was, failing at her own fucking strategy that has helped her win over the course of her life. She wasn’t a winner—she was quite the opposite. But racing? That was the only thing she seemed to get right—the only thing she was confident in…or used to be, anyways. Driving used to be muscle memory to her. Her dad made her into a machine on the track, so she was going to make sure she did anything to continue to make him proud—to try and erase what happened the day they got into the crash.

It was all why she started looking into the weaknesses of her competition, anyways—why she made it her go-to racing strategy. One mistake, and things could turn fatal. If she could pinpoint someone’s flaw on track and avoid it at all costs, then she would be safe. She didn’t notice the other driver hydroplaning when she crashed into them…when she ultimately killed her dad. She met Lando’s gaze again as the fire in her chest continued to scorch and disintegrate any possible bit of calm she had left.

“I don’t need to prove myself to you,” she sneered at the Brit, gritting her teeth as she spoke. She took a few steps closer to him, gaining her confidence again with each step. “You choke under pressure. You lack confidence in your driving. Just because you’ve won a race, doesn’t mean you know anything about winning, either.” Lando’s next words drove the pre-existing stake in her heart in even deeper.

“Go to hell.”

She pushed past him, leaving his apartment before anymore words could be spewed between them. She knew her decision to sleep with him was reckless, and all she’s done since leaving Melbourne was seemingly ruin her own life. The tears ran rapidly down her face as she fumbled with her keys to get into her apartment. She couldn’t even bring herself to be mad at Lando as much as she wanted to, because she was the one who brought this onto herself. As Claire shut her front door, she pressed her back to it and slid down to the floor.

The feeling was overwhelming—like everything was crashing into her at once: all the way back from when her dad died, leading up until now. Every decision she had ever made, every bridge she had burned to get to where she was…and for the first time in a long time, she felt regret. She regretted the life she built for herself, and she regretted the person she turned herself into. Claire regretted pushing Oscar away, moving to Monaco, sleeping with Lando…everything was a deep rooted seed of regret. She had spent all these years building a guard around her heart, when it only seemed to make everything worse than it already was.

The only person she wanted to talk to right now was Oscar, but she wasn’t sure if they were in that threshold again in their relationship. The reconciliation at the club the other night was definitely a stepping stone, but hardly a big enough step to validate visiting him at three in the morning. Would he push her away? Would he even answer his door? Claire was wagering to guess that he might be mad—he used to be a bit of a grouch when they were kids if someone woke him up. On the other hand, however, circumstances have changed between them. For better or for worse, she wasn’t entirely sure.

Claire played with the hem of her t-shirt as she gambled with the idea of going to see him. Her tears had slowed, and her demeanor was calmer. If she had any shot of regaining control of her life and mending the mistakes she made, then there couldn’t be any harm in trying to see him—she had to at least try. She inhaled deeply before pushing herself to her feet, and leaving her apartment once more.

.

Claire was the last person Oscar was expecting at his door this late at night. It was a miracle he even woke up when she knocked, but perhaps the universe was working overtime at bringing their lives back together. Ever since he saw her at the club two nights ago, he’s felt…strange. He couldn’t decide if he was excited to potentially have her back, or weary. As he looked back at her now, he noticed how red her eyes were…how puffy her cheeks were.

“You answered,” she observed, equally as surprised as Oscar felt. He smiled sleepily towards her, then leaned against the doorframe. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“Don’t be,” he responded groggily. “Is everything okay?” Her arms were around him in a matter of seconds, further catching him off guard. When he felt her sporadic breathing against his chest, he realized she was definitely not okay. He wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her close. He closed his eyes as she nuzzled her face into his chest. His chin rested on the top of her head, as he sat in silence, letting her work through whatever had just happened.

“Lando and I ended things,” she managed to say between sobs.

Oscar wasn’t exactly expecting the news to hit him as hard as it did. Was he…happy? He felt a bit like an ass at feeling relieved when she said it—he cared about Claire and Lando both so much. But this was Claire—his Claire. He pulled away from the embrace, then used his hands to wipe away her tears.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly. “You want to come in?” Claire nodded lazily, and Oscar wasted no time helping her into the small confines of his apartment.

He was silently grateful he cleaned today. He hung up a few family photos around the place, trying to decorate it more so it felt more like a home. Oscar enjoyed feeling comfortable in his environment, and now that he was living away from Melbourne, he wanted the place to feel as warm and welcoming as possible. He watched Claire take in everything, when her eyes landed on one picture in particular: the first Piastri Christmas that her and Simon came to.

“Oh my god,” her voice was barely a whisper. She brought her hand up to the photo, slowly tracing the image as if to instill it into her memory. Oscar’s heart ached for her. Claire had told him at the club how broken she felt, but now was the first time he could really see it. She didn’t look well. Her already fair skin was even more pale than usual, and her eyes were void of any kind of life. “Things were so…different.” She looked back at him with a hint of a smile playing on her somber expression. Oscar smiled softly in return, making his way over to her.

“I never threw away any pictures,” he admitted sheepishly as he faced the photo with her. He chuckled softly at the sight of her puffy, red Christmas dress she wore in it. They were holding the remote control cars, each grinning ear to ear. Things were so simple back then. “I still have the cars, you know.” He heard a small gasp from Claire before he turned his attention down to her. She looked up at him in return.

“No way,” she responded. “God, those were so fun.” Oscar shifted his weight slightly, feeling his curiosity get the better of him. He wondered what happened between her and Lando—just a few days ago, Lando was talking about how well things were going.

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “Do you…want to talk about what happened?”

“With Lando?” She asked. He nodded. He watched as she drew in a deep breath, thinking of what to say. “Um, Oscar, I haven’t become the best person since I moved. I want to start by saying that—“

“I don’t care,” Oscar quickly interjected, trying to reassure her. “I can promise you, nothing you say will make me hate you again. You can’t get rid of me again that easily.”

“I was using Lando,” she stated simply. “After the accident I, um, developed this sort of plan…I wanted to know every other driver’s flaw or weakness while they drove so that—“

“—you could anticipate it before it happened?” Oscar finished for her, now picking up on where she was leading with this. She had talked about the accident only briefly with him, but he didn’t know much detail. He didn’t need to, really, to put the pieces together.

She was driving the car the day they crashed. Someone driving in the lane next to them hydroplaned on the water in the road, and crashed into them—killing Simon on impact. He knew Claire well enough to know that she started implementing this ‘plan’ because she blamed herself for the accident—she probably was trying to avoid any other potential accident as to if try and reverse what happened that day. But that was the fucked up thing in life—you couldn’t change the past.

“I knew Lando was self conscious,” she continued, clearly shifting uncomfortably under Oscar’s gaze. “I figured if I slept with him, I could find how, exactly, that interfered with his driving. He chokes under pressure…he tends to bomb his race starts if he is near the front of the grid. He lacks confidence.” Oscar couldn’t help but raise his eyes in surprise at how much she knew about Lando. It was spot on, too.

“Claire,” he started gently, “the accident wasn’t your fault.”

“It could’ve been prevented if I noticed the guy swerving,” she argued, as if she could change Oscar’s mind. He knew she was trying to paint herself as a villain, but he saw her as anything but. He just saw her for what she was—broken.

“You wouldn’t have noticed him, Bear,” he whispered as he took both of her hands in his. “The rain was coming down too fast and too hard. It made it hard to see anything in those conditions.” He knew she heard truth in his words as she shifted her weight, leaning towards him ever so slightly. Her head bowed, as she looked down at her feet.

“I miss him so much, Osc.”

He missed Simon, too. More than words could ever express. Hearing the exhausted desperation in her voice could’ve been equivalent to getting punched, Oscar thought.

“I miss him, too,” he used one of his hands to lightly grab her chin, and guide her to look at him again. Her eyes were misty, still. “Bear, you can’t change the past. You can’t continue to worry about the things out of your control. The most you can do is look towards the future—and how proud Simon would be to see you racing in Formula 1.”

He wasn’t exactly expecting her to kiss him, but when her lips collided against his, he was quick to melt into her touch. He could feel her tears as they rolled off of her cheeks, and on to his hand. It felt like fireworks in his stomach, as a warm, low buzz echoed through this body. Claire. He was kissing Claire. A small hum sounded in his throat, as he instinctively pulled her closer to him—his hands landing on her waist. She grabbed ahold of his t-shirt, sending a swarm of butterflies through his chest.

Oscar swiftly lifted her, as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso. Both of them refused to break the kiss, as he stumbled his way through the living area before laying her on the couch. With each breath of air, the kiss deepened as though they were trying to make up for lost time. Oscar’s hands eagerly wandered her body, trying helplessly to memorize every curve. His mind whispered her name repeatedly like a song he couldn’t get out of his head. Claire. His Claire. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she moaned softly against his lips. It was enough for his legs to give out under him. She was intoxicating—she was addictive. He never wanted to let her go—he couldn’t make that mistake again.

“I love you,” she whispered into the kiss. Oscar pulled away momentarily, allowing the depth of the words to fall between them. As he stared down at her, all twelve years of their relationship seemed to flood over him. Love. His heart swelled as the word—the feeling—dripped upon him like a profound epiphany.

“I love you, too,” he finally said. “I love you so much, Bear.”

.

7 MONTHS LATER - Melbourne, Australia

Stolen glances were what Oscar thrived on. Each time he caught Claire staring at him in the paddock, he swore his breath caught in his throat. They’d each smile, maybe laugh a little, then continue on with their commitments. He felt like a damn teenager again; it was pathetic. After the summer break ended, they had made it a point to text and call constantly. But being here—the first race of the season—it felt…different. Lando, however, seemingly caught on quickly to their behavior. Unbeknownst to Oscar, he had been watching them intently since Claire and him ended things. Oscar tried to care; he really did. But all Oscar could think about was the next time he got to hold her—the next time he got to kiss her.

“Claire is a better driver than I thought,” Lando grumbled in the McLaren trailer after Qualifying finished. Claire managed to take the shitty Alpine car to an impressive finish in P5. Oscar could hardly control the smile on his face when he found out. Right now, though, he was biting the insides of his cheeks. He didn’t want to piss Lando off even more—especially considering he finished below Claire.

“Yeah, she’s decent,” he managed. Oscar shook his helmet hair out, then ran a hand through it. “Tomorrow should be an interesting first race.”

Lando was quiet, presumably thinking about what to say to Oscar next. It had been like this since the weekend started, and Oscar knew it was because of Claire. He knew they needed to hash it out, but neither of them really knew where to start with the conversation. Lando had begun suspecting that they already knew each other since that first day in Monaco, so when their late night rendezvous officially ended and Oscar began taking more suspicious phone calls, it basically confirmed it for him.

“Oscar?” The Brit turned, leaning against the table that they were standing next to. “We’re, um…we’re friends, yeah?” Oscar glanced at Lando to find him staring back at him intently.

“Yeah, of course,” Oscar reassured him quickly. He wanted to be honest with Lando, but he just hadn’t found the right opportunity to bring it up yet. If he could clear the air, he’d feel so much better. He didn’t like lying, especially to people he cared about. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, um,” Lando sighed. “Is there something going on between you and Claire? Like, romantically?”

“Yes,” Oscar wasted no time. He wanted the tension between them to leave, so he didn’t think beating around the bush would serve either of them any good. “Um, it kind of started unexpectedly. I just didn’t know how to tell you—“

“She’s using you,” Lando quickly interrupted. “She does that, mate. Her friend told me that she researched her competition and—“

“I know,” Oscar now cut Lando off, not wanting to hear him talk about it. It was a complicated situation that Lando didn’t understand, and didn’t need to know the details of, quite frankly. Claire’s trauma wasn’t his business to share or to hash out. “I mean, not about her using me—but I know she researches drivers.”

“You don’t care?” Lando scoffed, as a smile of pure disbelief took over his expression.

“Lando, I’ve known Claire for twelve years,” Oscar explained, keeping his tone calm as to not escalate the situation. There were still camera crews around, and he definitely didn’t need this plastered across Netflix or Sky Sports. “She…does that because of some trauma she’s got. It’s complicated—“

“So, not only are you dating my ex,” Lando’s tone was wavering on the edge of anger and pure mania, “but you lied to me about knowing her?”

“I know how that looks,” Oscar carded a hand through his hair, quickly growing flustered. He hated the attention—he hated confrontation. “But I honestly wasn’t on speaking terms with her that first day. We hated each other back then.”

“And now you’re here, excusing her actions because of some bullshit excuse—“

“Hey,” Oscar surprised himself at the sudden shortness to his voice, but he couldn’t sit here and let Lando continue to drag Claire through the mud without knowing the full story. “I’m not excusing her actions. Regardless of what she went through, she shouldn’t have done it. But you can’t diminish someone’s trauma just because you don’t know or understand what they went through.”

“Okay, so help me understand,” Lando argued, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Help me understand what exactly happened to turn her into a bitch?” Before Oscar could act on his anger, Claire’s familiar, gentle voice rang from behind the two drivers.

“My dad died.”

The two boys turned, watching as she slowly made her way over to them. She was still wearing her Alpine team kit, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Loose strands of hair hung around her face from wearing her helmet earlier that day.

“I was driving us to visit my mom’s grave,” she continued to explain. Her voice was calm, collected—it perfectly evened out Lando’s aggressive demeanor. “It was raining. The road was ponding. I didn’t see the car next to us hydroplane and swerve. It hit us, and my dad died on impact.” In Oscar’s peripheral vision, he saw Lando’s jaw clench. He knew that he felt sorry for her, but his pride wasn’t allowing him to cave and apologize. Claire extended her hand towards Lando, as if to offer an olive branch of sorts.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” she smiled weakly. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I do think you’re a rather good driver—I just wish you could see it for yourself.” Finally, Lando took her hand in his—accepting the apology.

“I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled, as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’m sorry about your dad.” Claire dropped Lando’s hand, then shrugged.

“It’s in the past,” her gaze flickered to Oscar, causing his heart to skip a beat. “It’s time I focus on the future.”

.

* None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

©️ grogwrites, 2024

Taglist:

@leclercdream @martygraciesversion381 @henna006 @fortunapre @urlocalcemetery

[tinybitsubby]

****Disclaimer: this is not my list. (meaning I don’t like/prefer/agree with everything on it)

Several months ago I was down some rabbit hole and found a message board where someone had asked a question about having a D/s oriented vacation and people responded. I went to visit it recently and it doesn’t exist anymore. I had copied it to notes to send to the Hubz at one point and thought I’d share it here and see what you all think of it. Thoughts? Ideas? Copy and pasted below.

——————————

Someone asked a d/s chat room ideas to turn a romantic tropical vacation into a major D/s getaway for those exploring D/s.

1. Start off on the right foot. Spank her ass right before the flight or drive so it’s uncomfortable to sit during travel. Maybe tell her to sit still when she keeps shifting in her seat.

2. Tell her that unless thr public can hear, just for this trip she must always address you as sir. Punish forgetfulness.

3. Make her kneel every morning.

4. Objectify her by shoving a few fingers deep into her mouth a few times a day. Call her good girl and watch her gag for a minute then wipe her runny eyes and move on like nothing happened. My wife/sub says this type of brief degradation flips her mindset so fast. She hates it but loves the complicated emotional part.

5. Since the owiest part of anal is the initial insertion, tell her that she will be announcing every single time she’s about to get in the shower so he can come to the bathroom in a minute. When he comes in she must lube up her clean asshole and degrade herself by holding her own ass open for him. He will sink his dick all the way in and hold it there while she tells him a reason why she deserves to take his cock up her ass. If she can’t think of a good reason, the dick stays in until she does. Not fucking her, just staying in there stretching her open. Then he rinses off and leaves so she can shower. An uncomfortable size of dildo (not plug) can be used instead if he doesn’t like to get erections and then let them fade. I’m not into anal except for the very subby headspace it creates. It makes me feel so vulnerable and it’s kind of painful. We did this on a trip and it became a true exercise in submission as I got more and more sore. When he sat me down to tell me this would happen, it really set the tone for the trip. Don’t discount this idea. Also Halfway through the trip we had anal sex which is rare for us and it made every shower insertion after that more uncomfortable and really upped our D/s. Seriously, try it, especially if anal is really not her thing. She’ll feel like such a good sub. You want her to feel like a good sub for submitting in ways that are uncomfortable. Please try this! PS If she loves anal, don’t do this, hahaha. PPS. Since we got home he sometimes says tell me when you get in the shower next and I know this will happen and it reminds me of our trip when we solidified our DS.

6. Bring an implement she doesn’t like and tell her she must ask for 10 hard strokes every day by a certain time. Obviously No anger or lectures just checking it off the to-do list. If she forgets and the time passes, she gets 25 or more instead. You should know Tears are ok in the D/s dynamic. If you’re flying and don’t want to take implements then you always have a belt or a brush.

7. Spit in her mouth every time no one is looking

8. Let her know before you leave that even if she’s a very good girl, there will be tears twice on this trip to remind her of her submission. Make her ask for one of the times and surprise her with the other. You get to choose what makes her cry. Don’t overlook the power of this emotional release for a sub. This secretly also teaches her to ask for an emotional release when she feels it could be beneficial to her mental state or the relationship.

9. Tell her she cannot cum until the third day of the trip. Then have lots of sex the first two days.

10. If you are leaving town, make her dress like a total slut

11. Bruises man. Give her some really good butt bruises and then spend time every day, poking pinching and spanking them. It keeps her hyper aware of her place. A 1.5” dowel from hardware can give bruises in just a handful of strikes without chaffing the skin too much like stingy implements do because they take too many strikes to get a bruise.

12. Tell her that on this trip, if she has an alcoholic drink in her hand, there will also be a plug in her ass. No exceptions. Going to order a drink with lunch? Go plug that ass before we leave. For added fun, you pick the size each time. Alternatively, if that’s not possible, you could just tell her that whenever your dick is going in her pussy on this trip, there will also be a plug in her ass at the same time. Or alternate days.

13. She’s doesn’t get to orgasm on this trip.

14. Tell her she will kneel and suck your balls every time you change clothes. “Sorry, you have to come back to the room with me because I’m changing into my bathing suit.”

15. Make her stay naked every minute you’re alone.

16. Call her trashy names.

17. Whatever you want to do to Dom her, whatever your desire or fantasy is, do that. BUT, tell her in detail hours in advance. A sub’s brain goes haywire when told something like this. “Look at me. Tomorrow I’m going to spank you very hard and you’re going to hold very still. I’m going to cum when I’m done but how I cum is going to depend on how well you take your spanking. If you can stay still I’ll just sink into your cunt and that will be that. But if I have to keep telling you to get back into position or keep your feet down I’ll cum down your throat and if I have to wrestle you at all during your spanking, I’m fucking your ass and continuing to spank it.” Or just tell casually with a smile you know after dinner I’m going to fuck your face and slap it hard every time you need to pause to breathe. Etc.

18. I’m jealous. I want a D/s vacation! Just stuff holes all the time. Anytime you think of it, put your fingers, dick or toy into one of her holes for minute. Let her know her body will be invaded over and over on the trip multiple times a day and occasionally during the night. Make sure you tell her to expect it because then her mind will be on it all the time.

19. Flirt with other women and make her sit quietly and smile. Maybe kiss one.

20. Fig her. Especially if you can’t spank because of noise. At least 20 minutes, the heat doesn’t peak until 15. If you’re flying and can’t take ginger, China Gel on your thumb is almost as good.

21. Bind her and make her wait patiently while totally bored. If rope is a travel issue, take some medical tape.

22. Get her pregnant

23. Clothespins. Use them a lot. Is she sucking your dick, put them on her labia. Are you fucking her, put them on her nipples. Are you spanking her, put a row of several down the skin of her tummy or back on her labia. They keep her on edge and feeling subby. I’m not kidding try them because the ache when they are removed is like nothing else. If she’s sunning by the pool, maybe there’s one hidden somewhere for a while.

24. Just fucking Dom her, use the time to make your own D/s dreams come true. She wants you to take control.

25. Fuck man this list is great but maybe only pick a few.

26. Give her a daily writing assignment if you have relaxing time. Give her a question that is hard to talk about and demand honesty. Better yet, both of you share.

27. Tell her she can’t say no on this trip. Goes without saying, but respect hard limits.

28. Make her wear dresses with no panties. Pull it up every time no one is looking. Smack her pussy, or finger fuck her or sit back and admire. Just mix it up. Fuck her before you go somewhere so she has to feel jizz running down her legs.

29. Make her skip a meal now and then to watch you eat

30. Randomly tell her to head back to the room and masterbate to orgasm. Or to only get really close to it. Give her a time limit.

31. Choke her out. Maybe she wakes up in a compromising position.

32. If she’ll be wearing bathing suits, only spank or strap her on one side. She’ll be miserable with all the counts on only one side and if anything should show, it will just look like she took a tumble or something with a bruise or welt on just one side. It’s the symmetry that lets people know what’s up.

33. If there’s a need for a punishment spanking on the trip, do it in diaper position. It’s intense because you can see her face. Make sure you’re ready to handle seeing her face during a punishment as some Doms just can’t handle it.

34. Tell her you won’t be touching her vag once on the trip. Her other holes will be used as you see fit daily. You can put a binder clip on her labia to hold it closed to prove your point.

35. Carve a souvenir scar into her.

36. Tell anytime she wants to cum she’ll have to pick between two things she doesn’t like first. Get her close to orgasm so she’s really needy and then say I want you to come but first A or B. If she doesn’t pick in 10 seconds, she gets both then back to the orgasm.

37. Pick a window of time each day that she cannot speak

38. Tell her she must wake you up with her mouth every day.

39. Take medical gloves and do cold inspections of her. Make her feel like an object.

40. No eye contact for the trip.

41. Dude just tell her this trip will be rough. Rough sex, rough spanking, rough manhandling. Just make things challenging for her and then get through them together. That’s all we subs want. We want to endure a hard challenge for you and then be called a good girl for enduring it. You get to be the guy setting up whatever challenge turns you on AND be the support system when it’s emotional for her. That’s all of D/s!!!

42. Edge her. You can do it or she can, but lots of random edging to keep her needy all day.

43. Golden showers.

44. Make all decisions for her. Tell her when to get up, when to sleep, when to use the bathroom, what to wear, order her foodand drinks without consulting her. Tell her when sex is happening and what type. If it’s too much, just pick one day where she can’t make a decision.

45. If you’ve never slapped her face, start on this trip. Maybe just a couple times at first and then build up to several times in a row during some form of sex. Require eye contact. Let her tear up and let her go through the range of emotions. While looking at you and enduring it, let her feel your support, but then slap her again. As a submissive this is for real an emotional growth as a couple and can be meaningful. Talk to her about it the next day. Tell her she’s so good for taking it in and you’re going to slap her again soon.

46. Spank her very hard right before the trip so the little spankings here and there actually hurt quickly. Wipe tears and give hugs. This hard and soft feedback at the same time feeds a sub like you wouldn’t believe.

47. Don’t let her sleep in pajamas. Always nude. She’ll get used to it.

48. Force too much Alcohol/weed into her and then discuss both of your darkest fantasies.

49. Slap that pussy every chance you get. Keep it just a little sore.

[katuschka]

Everybody's Got a Secret

Josh Kiszka x f!Reader

3.393 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: This is filth!, mild erotic asphyxiation, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (both f and m receiving), light bondage, masturbation, dirty language, sub&bratty&cheeky Joshua, open relationships

Masterlist Taglist

My doors were always open, and no questions asked. Everybody’s got a secret, and in this particular case, in this time and space, his secret had my name.

No strings, no obligations. Both of us had those already somewhere else. Both in long-term relationships with other cocks that just weren’t always available… or able. Hence the arrangements were made and doors were opened…

When my husband was out of town, which happened more often than not, I spent my days in my downtown apartment, because I hated the big and quiet country house when he was not in it, playing his piano or keeping fit in his basement gym. Always a hopeless romantic, an old soul in a mature body, he made sweet love to me in that house. With his kids already raised and gone, he offered me a new chance, away from the abuse and sorrow that was my old life. He gave me an opportunity to pursue my dreams and a new home in that big, silent mansion. Always grateful, I cooked his meals and did the laundry there. 

And we both knew that it was not enough. I would do anything for that angel of a man. He couldn’t do everything for me. But that’s ok. Everybody’s got a secret, and he willingly granted me mine. I wasn’t delusional either, I knew there were other women… 

So, as long as he didn’t know the details, I could do whatever I wanted in my cherished hiding place, the only condition being that I pay my rent. Fair enough. More than fair. It was a place where I reigned, after all. The big house was my home only as long as he wanted me there, but that was it, that was the agreement, too. So I eventually learned to fend for myself in every way. That was our mutual goal. One day, I would be alone again. I was almost sure of that. But thanks to him, I would no longer be lost. 

It was a bit different with Josh. He had almost everything since the day he was born, and he gained even more as the years went by, simply because he was talented and brilliant and surrounded by his equals literally since the days he was still in the womb. He had people. He had love too, and they were almost a perfect match, save for just one tiny little thing. Josh was a shameless slut, always on a hunt for a healthy dose of naughtiness and depravity. Josh loved dirty fucking, he loved to experiment and he needed his fix from time to time.

His man just couldn’t force himself to do it. He only made love to him. He also didn’t have enough holes. Or meaty pillows. Not exactly Josh’s preference, but a welcome bonus when it just clicked. To keep things interesting, he said. That was when I entered the building…figuratively speaking, because I never EVER crossed the threshold of their house. Secrets don’t do such shit.

He knew about my existence, and that was ok, as long as he didn’t know my name or my face. The sentiment was mutual. He didn’t want to meet me, see me, acknowledge me. Ever. Josh made sure he wouldn’t. 

So, my doors were always open and Josh called whenever he needed. This time, my phone rang at 2 a. m..

It was a 45 minute drive from his place to mine, depending on the traffic. At night, it would be less, but still enough time for me to get ready. So, when he rang my doorbell at last, I answered in his favorite vintage slip dress, holding two glasses filled with wine. Like a valley doll. 

“Well, well, well, what brings you here at this ungodly hour?” I teased, watching him grin at me in return. 

“Stupid question, darling,” he answered, while running his finger gently down my bare upper arm. “The reason remains the same. You’re a comfort blanket for my dick, and I need you to do some ungodly things to it tonight.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment. So you need to have your dick comforted?” I snickered and handed him his glass and he nodded in appreciation, taking a sip without breaking eye contact, pursing his lips around the rim with the tip of his tongue sticking out just a tiny bit. He always did that when he wanted to communicate his neediness. “What happened? Trouble in paradise?” I cooed, while making room so he could enter.  

“Don’t ask, and I shall not lie, remember? But since you asked so nicely – no. I have had some trouble with certain lyrics. I need my muse. Will you help me?” He wasted no time, already making a beeline to my bedroom. Pausing at the door, he glanced back at me, fishing for the answer he didn’t need. Of course I would. 

“Always there,” I chirped again and stuck my tongue out at him playfully, following him without haste.

Pausing in the doorway, I leaned against the door frame and took a sip, watching him unzipping his fly already. He was always gorgeous, whether dressed in plain white cotton or embroidered organza. But preferably naked. Lean, but not skinny. Toned, but sweet. Bare like a statue…until he raised his arms up and I fainted. Always. 

“Eager, aren’t you! So no small talk today, I assume?” I was eager too, knowing what was coming. 

Always a tease, he rolled his hips lewdly and, glancing at me through the ridiculously long curtain of his eyelashes, he puckered his lips, inviting me to join him by the bed with a loud and playful smack. “It’s not a day, darling. We’ve no time to waste before the sun comes up and orders us to be elsewhere.” 

A fucking poet, sometimes spitting dreamy verses down at me even in between moans during the actual animalistic process of fucking, like a true artist that he was. I watched how he batted his eyelashes at me again. Ridiculously long, indeed… “Did you put some mascara on, Josh?”

“And if I did?”

I licked my front teeth in silent anticipation. He was needy and ready to play the mouse, which in return made me greedy and instantly wet. Meow! “Joshua! Do you want to cry tonight?”

After he took off the last sock, he flexed his shoulders and straightened, facing me completely; already stark naked and already completely hard, his second weeping head nodding at me, greeting me like an old friend. “I voiced a plea, and I gave you a hint. You’re the director tonight.”

The plan formed in my head the moment he called. Even before that, actually. I’d lie if I said that I didn’t care about what he did for a living and how. Watching videos of him performing was one of my favorite leisure activities when he was away and out of touch. It made the anticipation ever so sweet, because his stage presence was just as sensual as his bed behavior. I knew what he was capable of, while others only imagined. 

“Did you bring your payment with you?” The word payment was a deliberate, whorish choice, completely ok only because I was the one who started using it one day, and the only one allowed to use it. God forbid if I’d ever heard it leave his mouth. He’d have to dry hump the mattress instead, and let me watch his torments. He loved the whore in me, but alas! The only way to get a taste of it was to treat me with respect. Night-time calls meant that he would have to grant me one wish, often in the form of a prop.  At night, I was ALWAYS in charge, giving him what he wanted, but it was always delivered my way. 

This time, I ordered him to bring one of his beaded scarves he wore onstage. Now he pulled it from his man purse and placed it in my waiting hand ceremonially, like a cherished treasure, smiling at me with little sparks dancing behind his pupils. “Am I going to be tied up with this?” 

“Oh no baby, I have my handcuffs for that.” He watched me swirl the scarf around his head and tie it tightly around his neck, leaving one end long enough to tickle his left thigh. Swinging it like a pendulum, I let the heavily beaded end hit his throbbing cock with a faint tinkling sound. 

I reveled in watching his immediate reaction: his eyes widened and lips parted in shock. He quickly tried to hide it by darting his tongue out and curling it against his upper lip, but his heaving chest betrayed him. This was when he was at his cutest, figuratively or literally on his knees, but always too stubborn to give in entirely.

“See, I’m gonna use it as a leash, if necessary,” I explained and took a small step back to admire my work. “Don’t you like the idea?”

He narrowed his eyes at me and those plump lips curled up into that bratty grin again. “Oh I like the idea very much. I’m ready to be…bad.” 

“Bad,” I whispered,and circled him like my prey, which is what he essentially was. Hugging him from behind, I let my hands travel up his chest, grazing his right nipple with my fingernails while the fingers of my left hand closed around his throat. “Bad boys don’t whine,” which was exactly what he did when I applied a little bit more pressure. He tilted his head back and rested it on my shoulder, eyes closed, showing me how much he loved being under my control. 

“You look really lovely like this. Makes me think… You know what we haven’t tried yet?” I was now intentionally rubbing my lace-covered tits against the tense muscles of his back, whispering those words sultrily right into his ear.

“No…” It was but a hoarse whisper already. It was fascinating how much power his voice normally held, but I always managed to gag him with ease. 

“I'm thinking… pegging you from behind, doggy style. With this,” I tugged at the scarf demonstratively. He yelped, his knees buckled for a split second and his whole body shook as if from cold. He was stupendously aroused. I loved it!

“Yeah, exactly. Like a bitch,” I twisted the end of the scarf around my hand and tugged again. The most delicious whimper escaped his lips and I watched him wrap his right hand around his twitching cock, while the left one reached behind and rested on my thigh. He gave himself a few slow strokes, then slid the hand down to cup his balls. “Oh yeah, please, do that, I’m already aching…”

“I’m really glad you like the idea, baby, but not today. Another time.”

“Why not?” He turned around and tried to win me over with those puppy eyes, but I had a very clear vision in my head. It had occupied my mind so much that I already bought some new additions to my bedroom inventory, just for him. I grabbed the scarf again and drew him closer to me so that our lips were almost touching. I tightened my grip, holding the scarf right under the knot below his ear, and twisted my fist slightly. He swallowed with difficulty and his wide eyes glimmered with undiluted lust. I licked his parted lips with the tip of my tongue until his eyes rolled back. Only then I finally released him and he stumbled backwards.

“Because you wanted me to do ungodly things to your dick, not your ass. Now onto bed, chop chop.” I smacked his tiny, perfectly rounded ass and he obliged, climbing on the bed with exaggerated sway like a tomcat, performing just for me. He turned around then, and spread his legs, licking his index finger lewdly while he shook the end of the scarf with his left hand until the beads tinkled again. “M’waitin’,” he breathed out and moaned around the finger. Such a slut!

I took one more sip, stripped too, and joined him on the bed, climbing right in between his thighs, admiring his cleanly shaven treasure. “You have a truly beautiful dick. It absolutely deserves some profane treatment.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it,” he responded, his voice shaking ever so slightly when I pressed my tongue flat to the underside of that gorgeous cock and licked a long stripe all the way up. I laughed. “So humble.”

“Darling, I’ve seen many cocks in my life. I know mine is awfully pretty.” 

“Hmm, how about you balls?” I cupped them gently, while crawling up to kiss him, tickling his chest with my hair.  

“Also exceptional.” He kissed me back, then pushed my head back down. 

“That’s why you keep them on full display all the time?” I bent down to lick around his areola before I sucked the nipple in between my lips, still refusing to go back down and suck on his cock instead, even though he bucked his hips up several times, giving me a clear hint how impatient he already was. 

“Flaunt…aaah…flaunt what you’ve got. God, you’re such a tease.”

His tone was dangerous this time. I looked up to meet his deadly, bratty stare. “You’re in no position to look at me like this.”

“Yes, I am. My thigh is completely wet from how your cunt already weeps for me.” He made another lewd gesture, putting his fingers in a V shape in front of his mouth and sticking his tongue through it at me, flickering it up and down. Yes, very suggestive. I’d love that. Continue and we’re both gonna get it. He usually got a warning first. 

“You’re a hoe, Joshua Michael.” I grabbed the scarf and pulled to the side. He inhaled sharply with a wheeze and looked daggers at me.

“Go on, I love high praises,” he spat. “Especially when they’re coming from your dirty mou…uuughn...” I didn’t let him finish the sentence. He would get what he asked for. Scrambling up as quickly as possible, I landed on my knees on each side of his head and sat on his face, effectively silencing him.  

And it was what he wanted. Grabbing my buttocks to pull me even closer, he instantly buried his tongue between my folds, making me gasp. I had to grab the headboard to keep myself from falling or hurting him as he enveloped my clit with his full lips and started sucking. This position was my Achilles heel and he got me there in no time. Two, maybe three minutes until my thighs started shaking. I looked down at him and he wiggled his eyebrows at me, before he closed his eyes and moaned loudly, as if he was eating the most delicious ice cream. Fucking tease. I inhaled sharply when he flattened his tongue and swirled it gently one more time around my swollen bud. The orgasm swept through me like an electric shock and I had to bite my forearm to muffle my scream. He was cruel, licking me through it and inducing more and more waves and aftershocks until I had to grab him by the hair and pull at it to still him. 

I creeped down his body, smearing my juices all over his skin and peppering his chest with kisses, before I straightened up again, hovering above him. “Tamed?” 

He looked up at me, ready to retort again, and finally saw the big silver hoop that hung from the ceiling right above my head. His eyes widened and sparkled with confused anticipation. “What’s that?”

I let out a satisfied exhale and smiled down at him. “That, my dear, is the surprise I got for you tonight.” I crawled towards the edge of my bed, opened the largest drawer of my bedside table and pulled out a silver chain with leather cuffs on each end. I let it fall on his chest. “Sit.” 

“What?”

“I said sit!” When he did, I pulled the chain through the hoop and told him to put his arms up. He was unnaturally silent all of the sudden, doing as told, and I fastened the cuffs around each wrist. When I was done, he just sat there, legs spread as I knelt between them, chest heaving and arms up, armpits glistening with sweat, just the way I wanted. He looked sinful. I admired this view so many times before, him reaching for those high notes or who knows what else. He would be reaching for pleasure tonight. First things first. I tugged at the scarf and pulled him closer to me, connecting our mouths in a searing kiss. He kept moaning as our tongues danced together. It made me even wetter. 

When I finally broke the kiss, I looked down at his cock, slightly reddened and rock hard, and ran my finger down his length. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. “Do something…please!” 

Finally, the magic word. 

He cried out when I put him in my mouth and swallowed him whole. I could hear the chain rattling but I couldn’t see, lying on my stomach and fully immersed in giving him pleasure. He cried some more, and moaned and groaned and whimpered as I kept bobbing my head up and down, up…swirling my tongue around his leaking head, and down…tickling his balls with the stuck out tip until I gagged. I stopped only when his hips started jerking upwards, telling me he was very close. I wasn’t done yet, not until I felt him in me. 

I sat up again and saw the smeared mascara under his teary eyes. “Oh my baby, so beautiful,” I cooed and caressed his cheek, smearing it even more with my thumb. He looked exhausted and pursed his lips at me. “Please,” he whispered. 

I finally straddled him, positioned myself and slid down. His mouth opened wide but no sound came out. It made me pause for a second, raising my chin in a silent question. “Won’t last long,” he breathed out, so I started slowly, rolling my hips languidly, while I watched him watching me. The room fell silent, only our synchronized breathing permeating the air.

He looked down at the scarf, then back at me again, his eyes full of wicked gleam. I threw it over his shoulder and tugged at it from behind, making his head tilt. His ragged breathing and his barely noticeable, but content smile made me feel high. The intoxicating smell of his heated body made me even more lightheaded.  I hugged him tight and traced my parted lips up his jugular as I quickened my pace. His moans broke the silence again and I followed suit. Running my hands up and down his back, I could feel droplets of his sweat trickling down my biceps. I never believed in heaven, but this was close. Even closer to hell, maybe.

He wanted to take control, but couldn’t. Not without his arms supporting him. He was completely at my mercy and when I leaned back on my arms to get a better traction, the head of his cock hitting my inner pleasure button made me cry out. It didn’t take long and the spasms of my second release made me clench around him. In my high state of mind, I nearly missed his moment. Only his high-pitched scream pulled me back to reality. I had barely enough strength in me to untie him at last. And then we collapsed on the pillows, completely spent and happy. 

We often cuddled afterwards, we always showered together, but he never stayed. The sun was already rising when he left this time. I buried my face in my pillow to inhale his scent that always lingered. Falling asleep to the sweet and heady smell of Chergui was great comfort in twilight hours. Many times, I imagined what it would be like to just rest my head next to his and drift away like that, with his messy curls tickling the tip of my nose. Someone else had this privilege. Someone who loved him, and thus deserved it. 

In the middle of the night, I was sometimes honest with myself, admitting to myself that I loved him too. But that’s ok. Everybody’s got a secret.

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @wetkleenex-gvf @lyndz2names

[endataraxia]

hey hatchet!! hope youre doing okay, could i request some angsty romantic headcanons between ticci toby and a gn!reader? maybe like if they argue about toby's behavior and whatnot

hey there darling! i’m actually doing great, and i hope you are too! i absolutely love the sound of this request, so here we fucking go (disclaimer i am not an expert on his MULTITUDE of conditions, which practically make up his whole person atp)

arguments about Toby’s behavior are not uncommon.

Toby was born with multiple diseases and disorders; though he doesn’t know his own past, you figure that if his parents did even a little less for him, he would be way worse off than he is now. in fact, you’re pretty sure this is as good as it could get.

but oh, there are so many things you simply do not love about this man.

his CIPA (congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis) prevents him from feeling pain, and as such he has not felt pain since he was born. as such, completely lacking the concept of pain and never remembering that others are susceptible to it, he is often a little too rough with you, not just in bed. sometimes, he grabs you just a little too hard, and it gets to you.

you know he is as dense as he seems, but just in case, you hope hard that he never realizes you’re slowly becoming distant from him. you simply can’t do it, not with his roughness and lack of reverence on your body.

and oh, this is just scratching the surface of his behavioral issues.

Toby is also diagnosed with BPD (borderline personality disorder). this is what you consider to be the worst part of his behavioral issues.

you had the misfortune of ending up as his favorite person (though in his defense there are not many others around him so his poor mentally ill brain pretty much has no choice).

you talk to the cashier at 7-11 for a millisecond too long? suddenly as you walk out, Toby is gone from where he was waiting for you and when you look back, the cashier’s gone too. but you know somewhere behind the store, the poor cashier’s blood is being spilled.

and even if you need just a small something from his fellow proxies, they’re not immune either.

though, you have to say, you prefer asking a random person instead.

because even though tim and brian may be punished by Toby, you feel like you are the one being punished the hardest.

he’ll give you the cold shoulder and guilt trip you and manipulate you.

it’s to the point you don’t think you know what a normal relationship feels like anymore. are boyfriends supposed to be loving? or are they supposed to scowl at you, go silent and cold the moment they notice you talking to someone else, even if it’s absolutely necessary?

and so you do the only thing you can do to rebel: argue.

you first start out gently, chiding him when he does something he’s not supposed to do. you correct him and explain to him why it’s wrong.

but you’re not sure if it goes through to him at all. you genuinely cannot tell, between his desperate apologies right after and the blatant repetition of his behavior.

for a while, it’d just been the apologies and repetition. though you disliked it, you soon came to realize that it was better than apologies, repetition and THEN arguments, guilt tripping and manipulation.

“why can’t you just love me for who i am? do you not love me after all? i was right all along. you’re desperate to get rid of me.”

and the truth is, you are.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.1

So disclaimer: I took screenshots instead of photographing my screen this time, but the quality of footage is a thousand times worse so the images are still mostly shit. But anyway, here we go :)

We're going to have to keep a tally on how many times they refer to their relationship in romantic terms. Less than a minute in, Paul has used the description, “great love affair.”

And John's right on his heels with “the sexual equivalent of . . . People in love.” So there's 2 already. Oh boy.

That opening montage of John and Paul just living for the light in each other's eyes should actually be the official music video for “I wanna hold your hand.”

Also I wonder how many songs they have about hiding. Someone's got to have a list somewhere right?

I adore the absolute lack of reaction to John manhandling Paul.

And then This Look. He's in love with him, ladies and gentlemen.

I remember seeing somewhere that this footage was literally right after they'd finished “she loves you.” Which was pretty recently after Bob Wooler, which was right after Barcelona. And if you're like me and you think that song is secretly about their relationship? If Paul's just been singing “she said you hurt her so, she almost lost her mind, but now she says she knows you're not the hurting kind. She said she loves you” at you, after all of that? Of course John's acting like a fucking puppy dog.

Poor George tally number 1

Excuse me??? John wants to live in the Beatle apartment instead of with his actual literal wife until Paul decides to move in with his girlfriend? What? He's so insane. Cynthia, you're lucky Paul's a fucking social climber.

I think it's indicative of two things that Paul said “screw secret girlfriends” while John happily went along with secret wives. One: different levels of security in masculinity (John doesn't have gay eyebrows etc) and two: different relationships. Jane and Paul's relationship was a smart career move for both of them and I think, being upper-class, and having her own career, and not being a mother, Jane was in more of a position to have a say.

Every time I watch that footage of Ken Dodd asking about their parents I physically cringe. Poor poor babies. Do your research you idiot! I don't think that ever happened again. I wonder if Brian made sure of that.

Paul literally talks like such a husband here. “We've thought about it, and probably the thing that John and I will do . . .”

Obsessed with Paul shouldering himself between George and John after George's little joke shove. It's so protective and yet so subtle. Exactly the same strong posture and easy smile as when he stepped between John and that interviewer during the Jesus scandal.

Poor George tally number 2 (you can't quite tell from the pic but John is shoving him out of the way because how dare he put his suitcase by Paul's?! That's John's suitcase's spot!!)

All the Beatles were cuddly with each other. It's one of the cutest bits about them, the puppies in a basket aspect. But I think we'll need a “noticable spacing difference” tally for this rewatch, too, and here's the first.

Paul wearing John's hat for attention and it fully and completely doing the job? They're so embarrassing!

I actually love that John's imitation of his upper-class Scottish family (which Paul can't do) is actually much more convincing than his broad Liverpudlian (which Paul nails in two variations, one based off his own family) I'm obsessed with the class dynamics between them.

Poor George tally three. He shares this one with Ringo. That moment when Paul's pretending to interview them about their purple hearts and cuts them both off with, “thank you. Mi-mister Lennon,” and John and Paul proceed to completely forget the other two exist for who knows how long – certainly longer than the videographer was willing to record.

I find John sliding into Paul's raspy “tiiight yeeeah” with his very turned on “mmmMM it's been a hard” extremely suggestive. I'm sorry but I do.

It's like he thinks if he looks away for too long he's going to disappear or something. Which. Now that I said that. Yeah. That is what it is. Poor separation-issues baby.

Ringo: Paul, you wrote a beautiful song and you sing it great. John: yeah and you're SEXY! Let's not forget that, everyone.

Am I crazy to obsess over every little musical similarity in their songs? Yes. Can I help it? No. The little “oh-oh ohoho” in the If I Fell demo is exactly the same as in Imagine and (frothing and writhing) it means something I can feel it! I just have no idea what.

I also find the lyric change from “i hope that she won't cry” to “i hope that she will cry” extremely interesting. There's always a heterosexual explanation. Trust me, the straights are the Simone Biles of mental gymnastics. But while the published lyric can be read as a man bitter toward his ex girlfriend hoping to hurt her by flaunting his new relationship, the demo version is trickier. Could it be that he doesn't want to hurt his wife's feelings by letting her know he's in love with someone else? But who else could John Lennon possibly have been in love with at the time?

“Too too much in love. Woah, too too much in love with you.” My heart

[gilverrwrites]

Jason and Roy separately after they keep teasing you and you just end up disengaging and dealing with it yourself with your hitachi and calling it a night. They got a lil too confident with the orgasm denial and forgot that their competition is Mr. Bunny massager/Mrs. Rose toy, who gives out orgasms for free with little to no begging or pleading or promises to be a good girl/boy required. Their window of opportunity to make you nut has closed and they're stuck waiting for the 1-3 business days for you to be in the mood/horny again if they wanna touch you again and they better bring their A game or they might just become 2nd fiddle to a bad dragon toy. (This might just be me but I'm not in a rush to repeat it if I spend all night with a person and dont get my rocks off, id still give head if asked but id need serious convincing to let them touch me again, bc it's not hot they wasted my fucking time, if I want to NOT come I can do that by myself)

On a very real note, teasing, edging, and denial are kinks like any other, and you should be voicing to your partners what kinks you do and don't like in the bed room to keep things fun and healthy. Your partner also shouldn't be in competition with your sex toys unless that's something they're into. If its not working for you, say something, my friend. Don't be afraid to stop your partners and say ‘Hey, this isn't working for me, can we do ‘something else’ instead?’ especially before you jump straight to cutting them out of the activity completely.

There's also nothing wrong with having a low libido anon! You take all the time you need between sex!

That being said, the idea of being pressed into the bed by Jason or Roy while they’re giving it their all and getting real cocky about making you squirm only for you to be like ‘um, no, excuse me. You're taking to long so I'll be doing this myself, thank you’ makes me laugh.

I think for both of them, the initial response would just be shock. Like open-mouth awe at your gall. Can't knock a girl who knows what she wants, and both of them would definitely enjoy watching you get off on your own typically, but the blow of you doing it unexpectedly, especially while they've been enjoying themselves would bruise their egos.

Roy is the type to try and win you back over. He's getting close, gently trying to pry the toy out of your hands and promising he’ll do better, he’ll do whatever you want just give him another chance. Can't you see how hard you've got him? Its painful, baby. You should let him relieve you both together.

Another disclaimer: Blue balls ain't a real thing, don't let Roy Harper convince you otherwise, he's just needy as all hell and will say anything to get you back to bed with him.

Jason would take it a lot harder. When his family piss him off he blows up, but I think he'd worry about scaring you/putting you off so he sulks instead. No, its fine. You do what you've gotta do, no really its totally fine. He’ll just show myself out and you can try again in the approximate 3 business days you need to to get there again, if he's around.

There's also a level of familiarity and intimacy to this. This is how I assume they'd react with someone they have an established romantic/sexual relationship with, in which at least some boundaries have been set. If you're just like, a one-night stand or you're in a causal hook-up scenario they'd probably just be like oh, okay. Guess we’re done for tonight, see ya round, have fun with that. They're not gonna push if it's evident you're not willing to give.