#even if the content were respectful of fat people

[froggierboy]

i love brendan frasier as an actor but it really fucking sucks that he got back into acting to wear a fatsuit and portray a parody of fat people, and just extra shit on top that he's being awarded for it

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦ view the second part here: part two.

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. “Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

[lehguru]

MUSCLE MUSCLE! + ONE PIECE MEN

one piece men having a muscular fem!s/o feat. monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, trafalgar d. water law, sanji, donquixote rosinante, buggy the clown

info: again FEM!READER , this is so self indulgent its embarrassing; not proofread

luffy wouldn't mind you having muscles. he thinks that's something normal – just like some women can be skinny or chubby, others can be muscular. he would love to compare his biceps to yours if you love to flex, he takes it as a fun playful thing. he would adore to train with you, it gives him a big motivation; not only because it's someone as strong as him training, but also because he would adore to share earbuds with you and do silly dances to make you laugh between your sets.

zoro thinks the way you managed to build up your muscles is amazing. he often talks to you about your training techniques and diet; you're also one of the few – three – people he invites to workout with him. if you spot him during bench presses, he always puts a higher weight than he would while alone – that's his way to show that he trusts you and your strength. he will often stare at your body at the gym, but it's never in a creepy way, he just wants to make sure you're okay while doing your exercises (and he secretly enjoys to see your muscles working).

law is constantly wanting to rip his hair off with worry for you. he thinks your psyche is nice and he have no problem with it, his fears lie on your diet and your bones/joints. he fears that you might get an injury and you're not keeping a healthy fat percentage; even if you reassure him and say everything is fine, he always show up with food at your place. if he's not in that worried state, he loves to feel your muscles while you hug him (he has a skinnier build, so he enjoys the contrast). his favorite thing ever is to feel your arms around his head while he lays on your stomach.

sanji would love your body no matter what, but there's something about you being able to lift him up – and even throw him around if you want to – that drives him insane. if you post a picture with any of your muscles flexed, you will get a dozen of comments from him. if you take him to the gym to train with you, he will praise you and won't even train so he can "appreciate and help a goddess like you". he begged you for a long time to give him a headlock so he could take a picture and make it his profile picture in every single social media he have (and the background on his phone).

corazón always get shy whenever he looks at any of your muscles – you often notice it, because his cheeks become a nice shade of pink. at first you thought he didn't like you being muscular, but quite the opposite. unlike his brother, he doesn't build up muscles that easily (they have the same genetics, but he always says he was born to be the skinny brother), so you, the love of his life, being muscular? he is over the moon. if he gets your consent to do it, his hands will be all over you. if you need a massage, he's there. if it's just resting on your thigh or your back during a cuddle session, he's happy. he loves your muscles a lot, not more than he loves you.

buggy thinks you're one of the coolest people because of your muscles. he always wanted to be bigger and scarier, but his muscles always seemed to grow on his legs and stomach only, so if you are well-balanced on all your body, he is smitten. he loves to lay on any part of your body, giggling to himself if he thinks about doing that when you two are apart. he is constantly praising you, but, unlike sanji, they come in a more "if you were the queen, i wouldn't mind being the jester" way. he wouldn't mind tagging along with you to the gym, but he would spend more time glaring at any other men that looks your way than actually training.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[killerpancakeburger]

One man's penalty is another man's prize

SUMMARY: When agreeing to lend a hand with the organisation of some military tests, you thought it would be limited to marking times and keeping scores. Statistically, there was no way that the... "creative" penalty you came up with would be selected, right?

And the chances for your boyfriend to be the one subjected to it had to be close to zero, right?

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (Soaps calls Reader Ma'am twice, that's it)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Fat!Reader, Smug!Soap x1000, a bit Possessive!Soap, Established Relationship, flirting, banter, teasing, partial nudity. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies. Suggestive content but nothing graphic.

WORDS COUNT: 2k

A/N: crackfic...? Soap does push-ups fic. Soap wears booty shorts fic. That actually no one One (1) person asked for.

If you need "visual on the target", this piece by @rusticfurnace and this one by @wombywoo have been on my mind. (Hoping its ok to tag, if not, tell me)

For @glitterypirateduck Cod Vacation Mode Challenge, prompt 27.

A drop of sweat falls from your temple and lands onto the stack of papers you were scribbling on. You wipe off your dripping wet forehead with the back of your arm.

The torrid sun is beating down hard on the ground and bodies alike.

This unforgiving heat left you no respite all day long, despite the fact that all you did was sit and take notes. Drenched in sweat, you fan yourself with your notepad. Perspiration keeps accumulating between the rolls of your stomach no matter how many times you dry it off. Today's the base annual testing day, an unofficial gathering meant to measure soldiers’ performance and entertain some friendly competition.

You would almost regret committing to helping today by playing scribes, but the sadistic satisfaction of seeing others toiling away while you twiddle your thumbs is enough to thwart that feeling. That, and Soap's little… display.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head when you arrived this morning and stumbled upon him stretching his legs, bent over, fingers aiming for his feet, wearing the shortest, thighest shorts you've ever seen. Then he greeted you as if nothing was out of the ordinary. You glanced in interrogation at Gaz and Ghost, who were respectively wearing Bermudas and tracksuits, and were met with a shrug and an eye roll.

To make matters worse, he traded his blue shirt for a sleeveless top that did wonders for his arms and shoulders - as if his tanned biceps weren't already a work of art and a weapon of mass destruction all at once.

You don’t know which incubus possessed him to wear booty shorts, but you definitely aren't complaining.

You spend the day ogling him shamelessly, knowing he was putting on a show for you. He'd sponge down his glistening face with the bottom of his shirt, offering you a tantalizing view of his toned stomach. He'd throw dazzling smiles, teasing winks and blow kisses your way. At some point, he even emptied his water bottle on his head, resulting in his shirt turning transparent and sticking to his skin in an almost obscene way.

His myriad of attentions made you dizzy, in the best of ways. You may have made yourself look like a lovesick fool, with your blissfully happy smiles and your stupid giggles, but except for the people you were close with, no one would dare to nag you about it - lest a certain Scottish sergeant with a big mouth and no fear of confrontation gets all up in their face.

Strong, bronzed hands heavily lean on your desk. Palms are turned towards you, fingers gripping the table's edge.

“M ‘ere fer my penalty.”

The voice is raspy, accent thick, tone charming and teasing at the same time.

You slowly look up from your paper to meet Soap's cerulean eyes; along the way you can’t help but peek at his tanned arms, his bulging biceps, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck, the familiar chin scar in the middle of his dark stubble. His shirt is soaked with sweat.

He's wearing the grin he has every time he lays eyes on you; a blinding, earnest thing. However, even that beguiling smile cannot hide the spark of triumph and playfulness in his gaze.

Johnny's terribly competitive, that's an open secret. It's no surprise that today's tests would fire him up. The perpetual FNG has a title to defend, after all, and with you watching, the stakes are high despite the tests’ results bearing no influence on their file.

But that excitement wasn’t supposed to target you.

“A penalty?” you repeat, unconvinced, twirling your pen between your fingers. “You?”

Doubt infused with sarcasm seeps in your tone, very much on purpose. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, on your guard. 

Your first instinct was to withdraw, prop yourself against the backrest, the distance between the two of you reduced to something too trivial to be proper, but you can’t back off from his implicit challenge. It's a well-crafted game with the two of you as its exclusive players. A dance of provocation and endearment, a mischievous yet comfortable back and forth.

The lack of privacy of it would usually discourage your bashful nature, who avoids confrontation at all costs. But the sergeant has figured out how to appeal to the competitive, driven part of you. So you stand your ground, brazenly, like you're the only two people in the world.

There is no way that Soap earned a penalty, no way that he lost. He's one of the best there is, if not the best - not that his ego needs the boost.

The SAS's youngest prodigue who beat all previous records, his name forever carved into the archives and his legend whispered among impressionable new recruits.

Not to mention that the way he said “my penalty” sounded more like “my prize” than anything else.

“‘ere. Proof.”

He hands out a piece of paper to you, a smug smirk not leaving his lips, one that is not without evoking the satisfied expression of the cat who got the cream. Your fingers brush his as you retrieve the “penalty receipt”, the contact feeling like flames licking your skin.

You take a break from defiantly holding his gaze to glance at the note. Its contents sends an ominous shiver down your spine, your eyes slightly widening in understanding.. and horror.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The odds were, what, one in hundreds? Amplified by the fact that Soap was the one to get ahold of it, out of all competitors.

You vainly stare at your own scrawl, as if that could make the ink vanish, but reality simply gazes back. 

When asked to participate in making up a penalty, you wrote the silliest thing that came to mind, as a sort of inside joke only yourself would be privy to. Eight innocuous little words that would sign your downfall.

“Do fifty push-ups with me on their back”.

The fifty was an arbitrary pick between twenty that you judged too lenient, and a hundred that would take too long; however, you've thought a bit more about the “me on their back” part. You were heavier than the average soldier's rucksack - significantly so. It had to be a challenge, so you've made it this way.

Yet you never expected to actually end up on someone's back.

How Johnny managed to get his hands on your penalty out of all of them, you'd probably never find out, but you couldn’t deny that the “me” mentioned was you. Indeed, on top of your… recognizable handwriting, the note was adorned with little scribbles you had mindlessly doodled while bored. They were simple but easily identifiable: a foamy bar of soap, a deadpan skull, a jerrycan wearing a cap, and a stack of cash with a hat, or, put differently, the Task Force 141 stylized.

A version of the team that Soap was well-versed with, having witnessed you drawing it countless times.

There was no way out of the corner you were backed into - Soap put you on the spot, the brightest one possible, and that little shit knew it perfectly - did it on purpose.

You sigh exaggeratedly as you get up. You bypass your desk to stand in front of Johnny, not missing the way he looks you up and down. This is the first time he's seeing you in shorts, and despite how self-conscious you are about the girth of your chafing thighs, he makes it obvious how much he's enjoying the view. You cross your arms with an amused smile on your lips.

“You know you’re not supposed to enjoy your penalty, right? Kinda defeats the purpose.”

His smile mirrors yours as he bends over to whisper in your ear, close enough for you to feel his body heat, but not making a move to touch you.

“And ye do know I’d never let any of those eejits sweat and grunt under ye? That's my prerogative.”

Despite the shiver his gravelly voice sent down your spine,you throw your head back in laughter.

“Ooh so that's what this is! You're jealous.”

He remains unfazed by the accusation.

“Call it what ye want.”

“You do know I'm heavier than your rucksack, right? Much heavier? You’re going to hurt yourself.”

His eyes glint with hunger for challenge.

“Don't knock it til you've tried it.”

“Fine. Drop and give me twenty, pretty boy.”

His grin becomes blinding. He reaches behind to grab the back of his shirt and rips it off like it burned him. 

You gape despite yourself in front of his glistening chest, all tanned skin, white scars, hard stomach and soft pecs, and he gently lifts your chin up with his index finger to close your mouth, an extremely smug smirk adorning his lips.

“Yes, Ma'am. Right away, Ma'am.”

From a stranger's perspective, his reply drips with an insolence that matches the cockiness he exhibited all day. But you know better; you can hear the underlying docility in his tone, the one he expresses when you two are intimate.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he kneels, the display way too lascivious for how public it is. You bite your lips, frowning your eyebrows in warning, but say nothing as he obeys and performs the twenty push-ups asked - on one arm. It is good that the position prevents him from staring at you, because you reckon otherwise he'd be giving you the slyest grin.

More than the impressive show of strength; more than the way his skin glows with sweat; more than the flaunting of his imposing muscles; the knowledge that he's undertaking it all for you is what tightens the band of arousal in your stomach, along with multiplying the bubbles of happiness and affection in your chest.

“Gonna take a seat, bonnie?”

He's forced to heckle you since you were so caught up in your staring that you forgot that the next part of the penalty required your participation.

And of course, he chose the cheekiest way to do so. The question, innocent at first glance, sent you back into the bedroom. The last time he asked you that was right before you sat on his face. And the time before that was when you rid him.

You oblige yourself to focus on the here and now, and carefully straddle Soap's back.

“Are you sure you can- Woh.”

He interrupts you by suddenly lowering and rising his body, obliging you to grab his shoulders to keep your balance, but easily demonstrating that the added weight has very little impact on his performance. 

“Alright, alright, you convinced me,” you yield. “That's only one out of fifty, though.”

“And yet ye dare doubt me again,” he grumbles under his breath, initiating a steadfast pace.

It is a shame that your current position prevents you from watching his face, but you concentrate on other things instead. Never before did you have the opportunity to revel in the glorious vision that was his powerful back.

You tease him by periodically clenching your thighs without warning, squeezing the meat of his shoulders or ruffling the back of his drenched mohawk.

You let out an impressed whistle when he reaches fifty, before scrambling to liberate him. He pretends needing your help to stand up, and you give him your hands without hesitation. Once he's up, you affectionately shove his shirt into his naked torso, an implicit command to make himself proper.

Following his dressing, you two stare into each others' eyes, hands in hands, like lovebirds until his stomach roars like thunder. 

You giggle; he sighs exaggeratedly, suddenly bowed down by an invisible weight, like he wasn’t overflowing with energy a minute ago.

“M starvin’. Tae death.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

He starts walking towards the canteen's building, after a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and his eyes motionning between you and the coveted reserve of food in a silent but strong proposition. You purposely let him take the lead so you can sneak behind him and grab a generous handful of his ass.

He turns his head towards you with mock outrage on his face, a hand pressed on chest, quickly replaced by appreciation.

��Been itching to do that all day,” you confess with an impish smile.

Walking side by side, you start happily humming, and just as you let your hand drop, he seizes it and puts it back on his buttock.

[itsa-me-lily]

First: How sfw/nsfw are we allowed to go with asks and whatnot, as well as stuff you won't write? I'm not intending on sending anything crazy, I just don't wanna cross boundaries

Second: Every guy in my family (minus one), married in or born in, is/was military, and I have heard that it's not uncommon for military spouses to cheat on their partner, especially when deployed. I'm not saying dear reader is cheating or anything of the sort, but I could def see some fresh dumbass recruits trying to pull the legendary Lieutenant's wife, if only for bragging rights. Curious how that would shake out (would the recruits ever be seen again, who knows!)

TLDR for the first part, I'm okay with NSFW asks and you can find my list of no goes (as well as the master list for Military Program Spouse) Here

Here is the Simon & Thimble playlist

Now for the second part

Content Warning; Discussion of size (kind of), discussions of cheating (kind of) (please let me know if I'm missing anything)

Also Reader is fat, like size 18/20 pants, like there's a jiggle no matter what she's doing (remember kids fat isn't a dirty word what size you are doesn't define your morality, your actions do)

Also also please know that my brain does not want to let go of Reader telling Simon "well we wouldn't be in this situation if you could pull bitches" but I don't think it's going to fit in this

Honestly the sex talk had gone better than you had anticipated. In the past when you had tried to explain being demisexual and what that meant for your sexual attraction to other people you'd gotten blank stares, been told you were just picky or that you were just talking about a crush that everyone got. You knew it wasn't, but it got old fast. And while Simon stared as you explained yourself, he didn't push or tell you that it was some new made up sexuality.

It was refreshing.

You weren't even that offended when Simon had stated he had no interest of sleeping with you. You'd come to accept that you weren't everyone's cup of tea, not everyone liked a little jiggle in the wiggle. So you'd be two people who legally shared the last name, roommates, broskis if you will.

You'd agreed that any extramarital activities had to be respectful, discreet, and that if it turned serious divorce was an option on the table. Or well, you listed out your ideas in what you thought was a logical manner and Simon just listened before grunting what you thought was an affirmative and then turning on the TV for some sort of sports game. You were a theater kid growing up, you weren't a fan of sport ball. So the two of you started your married lives with the ever perpetual hall pass.

Not that you ever used yours. Again there was the fact that you only felt any real attraction or desire once you had gotten to know someone, felt a connection that...intrigued your soul for lack of better phrasing. And you are a very self sufficient woman. People weren't typically banging down your door to...well bang, so really you just went about your days.

It was probably why you hadn't noticed the recruit flirting with you at first. At first it was just a polite nod and acknowledgement of who you were when you had to come to base to fill out paperwork. Then there were the times you'd run into him while walking through the neighborhoods. Private (or was he Second Private? You never really paid attention) Pearson was alright, a pretty boy who seemed to know it, given how he seemed to preen with attention once you caught on to what was happening. Yeah he was alright but nothing that really wanted to make you deal with the headache of dealing with two men in your life. Plus you were pretty sure he had mentioned something about working with Simon? You were not a person who shit where you ate.

So you played dumb when he tried to flirt with you, and never took him up on any offers to 'help' you around the house or to show you how to use the gym equipment, after hours of course. The cockiest had to have been when he offered to help you 'stretch' any time. The smile he wore when he offered that one was so slimy you felt like you needed a shower after.

It all came to a head one day in the mailroom. Somehow a random package had been delivered to the house instead of on base, and since Simon was out doing god knows what somewhere in the world it wasn't like he could take it with him. So you were doing your good deed of the day and dropping it off. Only to run into Pearson, who was with friends...even better.

You had tried to just smile politely and wave, acting like you were in the middle of running Very Important Errands. It didn't help much. Pearson and Co still came up to you like you were all the best of friends, Pearson even being so bold as to drape an arm across your shoulders, or he tried you. You side stepped him easily enough to his annoyance.

You lightly chit chatted, looking for an opening to excuse yourself. You'd be blunt if you had to, but you really didn't want to deal with any back lash for being a 'bitch'. Though maybe you should have. He must have sensed your deep rooted desire to get the fuck out of there, because Pearson put on the grosses looking grin, leaning in as if to share a secret.

"The boys and I were going to go out for some drinks tonight. Why don't you come with us? Promise we don't bite."

The last part was whispered liked it was a promise of the opposite. You honestly wanted to barf. A) Drinking wasn't really your scene. B) Pearson definitely wasn't your scene.

"As tempting as that sounds, sorry boys. I uh- I don't drink."

"Oh come on pretty girl, one drink won't hurt you."

You wanted to roll your eyes as Pearson tried to tempt you out, reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Thankfully you had heard little rumors that maybe the 141 was coming home. Simon wouldn't mind you using him as an excuse...probably.

"Really I can't. Simon should be coming home soon and I still have things I want to take care of before he's back."

Maybe it was the threat of their CO being back that caused all of them to freeze for a moment, giving you the opening to slip out from their little triangle they made, making your way to the exit. Pearson must have really been desperate, or just that stupid to practically shout after you.

"Come on, you really can't enjoy him more than me right? Doubt he's really all that great and impressive."

Oh that stopped you in your tracks. Simon Riley was a lot of things, annoying, stubborn, an asshole, rude, louder than the fucking heavens when he snored, a person who didn't care if he used up all the hot water, one could even say he was creepy at times. He didn't open up about things, and acted like socializing was the bane of his existence.

He had a sense of humor that people seldom understood, but he still entertained himself. Scared you half to death dozens of times over with how fucking quiet he was, like he was appearing out of thin air, but he'd try to knock to catch your attention if you were in the bedroom or bathroom. Had what was probably a herculean amount of strength in a single bear paw of his, but you'd seen him try to offer a finger for Tombo to sniff when the little curly mop got curious.

You plastered on the biggest polite smile you had, the one that boarder lined on looking a little crazy with how much it stretched your mouth, and spun on your feet to look at the trio of men who really tried to try you this day.

"You all know my husband."

You didn't actually wait for a response as you walked back to the men, who all started to look like they were regretting their choices.

"Lieutenant Riley. You know, Lieutenant "built like a brick shit house" Riley."

You stopped directly in front of Pearson, hands on your hips as you met his stare straight on, before looking him up and down slowly.

"Really what makes you think you can...measure up?"

The scrunch of your face at the end made it very clear that you had decided that the younger man was severely 'lacking' when it came to any kind of measuring. Clearly none of them had expected you to react like this, given that they just stared gobsmacked as you shrugged and waved them good bye with the tips of your fingers, happily making a sassy exit to your freedom.

Simon Riley was a lot of things, and he was your husband. And no one talked shit about your husband except you.

Edit;

There's a second part I want to add to this that I'll probably work on this weekend. I'm very out of the habit of writing so it takes me a hot minute to get stuff down the way I want it. Anyway I hope you like this! And remember

A) Being Fat doesn't make you good or bad

B) I am a greedy greedy goblin who loves getting asks

[gabessquishytum]

(Human au) Chubby Hob going to meet his boyfriend’s siblings for the first time, and he’s nervous.

At this point he’s quite settled and comfortable with the fact that Dream finds him and his size incredibly sexy, but Hob is fully aware that this is not universally agreed with. He’s worried that Dream’s family will judge him poorly for his attraction to someone like Hob, or even use Hob’s weight as the start of some sibling shit-stirring.

Except when they arrive to the Endless family home, the first one to greet them is Desire, who gives Hob a very blatant once-over, before stating with unmistakable envy “Dream, you lucky bastard.”

That’s the most vocal response he gets, but to Hob’s bewilderment (and Dream’s pride), it’s made clear very quickly that every single one of the Endless siblings also finds him and his size incredibly sexy.

It’s up to you if this visit results in Hob x Endless Siblings, or if Hob simply leaves afterwards having very complicated feelings about the fact that apparently his boyfriend’s attraction to his fat is somehow genetic. Either way, Dream is disgustingly smug the entire time about finding Hob first.

-🪽anon

We love chubby Hob, we love chubby Hob being appreciated!!!!

This is such a nice idea. I'm imagining that at some point, Despair ends up talking to Hob and she's like "yeah I had to educate all my siblings on fat liberation and I swear to god if any of them were fatphobic I'd start smacking them, I just didn't anticipate that my lectures would make them appreciate fat people quite as much as this........ welcome to the family lol." And Hob is nothing but grateful for the fact that Despair has apparently hardwired all her siblings to be very respectful and admiring of his body type.

The best thing is none of the siblings are weird about him being fat. Nobody explicitly comments on his body at all. Which is nice, because Hob has been with people in the past who were attracted to his fatness in an almost creepy way, like it was the only interesting thing about him. The Endless siblings aren't like that at all. They just make him feel desirable and sexy and welcomed, making sure that he has a nice time, that he has lots of nice food and drinks. They all pay him attention in a way that makes him blush... but he's not uncomfortable in the least. He kind of likes how he feels when the siblings sigh that they're all still single, while Dream has found such a gorgeous man...

He feels right at home there on the sofa, with Dream’s arms possessively wrapped around him (and hands sneaking under his jumper to enjoy the soft pillow of his belly). Despair and Destruction are squeezed onto the sofa too and its warm and cozy. Death pats Hob’s head in a friendly gesture as she hands out drinks. Destiny tries to teach Delirium how to play a card game. Desire actually has their head in Hob’s lap, as they're splayed out all across the sofa like a contented cat.

Hob feels safe. And he knows for sure that he is loved. If Dream wants to show him off in the future, well... he certainly wouldn't be opposed to that!

[fallingdownhell]

May I request Yae Miko, Dehya, Cyno and Childe getting defensive/angry/protective (whatever you see fit) about someone saying they deserve better then their s/o because they aren't in the best physical shape? (Be that being fat, disabled ect.)

Honestly? It felt so self indulgent writing some of this, especially Dehya's part, so thank you for requesting it<3 Also, since I'm writing about some conditions I'm not affected with, please let me know if I missrepresent any of it, and I'll immediately change it! Characters Included: Cyno; Dehya; Childe Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; various conditions on reader: being deaf/overweight/in a wheelchair; mean comments being made by others; characters defending reader; does that count as comfort??; not proofread yet Word count: 1,6k words Enjoy<3

Cyno

being deaf was never the handicap to you as others would probably see it

of course, it was difficult, learning to interact with the world and the people around you when you could not hear any of it, but rather than seeing it as a hindrance, you saw it as a challenge, one that you were determined to overcome

now, as an adult, things were going pretty well for you. Most the people you often interact with know about your condition, so they tend to be more patient when conversing with you

growing up, you began learning sign language to communicate with the people around you, as well as reading their lips. Over the years, you got more and more fluent in the language, so this was working out pretty well for you

Cyno, upon first meeting you, was fascinated by the way you percieve and interact with the world

despite the fact that you were not able to hear anything at all, you were the most lively person he's ever met, always smiling and laughing at everything and everyone around you, always seeing the good

after first meeting you, he immediately went and started to learn sign language as well. He had this desire to be close to you and spend more time with you, and he thought, in order to better communicate with you, he should learn how to talk to you

Now, a few years later, you've been in a relationship with Cyno for quite some time, and he could honestly say, that he's never been happier in his life

you brighten each of his days, simply by existing within his proximity, your smile was contagious and he often found himself just staring at you, never getting tired of your beauty

however, sometimes, there tend to be voices that question the relationship you have. Mostly people who didn't know you all that well, asking Cyno how he could even be with someone who could not hear a word he said

While he did pity those people, he always jumped to defend you. You may not be able to hear, but that didn't mean you were any less than anyone else in this world. In his eyes, it's just another thing about you that made you unique

It was always like this. Whenever anyone was talking bad about you, or telling Cyno that he should find a better partner, he always defended you, claiming that there would never be someone better than you

and if those idiotic people still don't get it by the lovestruck way he talks about you and continue to pester him, Cyno can get annoyed very quickly, not hesitating to draw his weapon on them

he wouldn't actually fight them, but the possibility of it being there scared them enough to run with their tails between their legs

but, at the end of the day, he never tells you about those encounters he has, not wanting to bring down your mood with it. He'd much rather enjoy the stories you have to tell him each day when he comes home to you

Dehya

when people were thinking about Dehya, they thought of a strong, independent woman, beautiful, smart and capable of many things. They respected her, and many wished to become the person by her side

when rumors came about of Dehya having a partner, people began to talk among themselves, guessing on who it could possibly be and what they would look like

No doubt would someone like her only settle for a partner just as good looking, smart and strong as herself, right?

well.. let's just say, the day you and Dehya became public with your relationship was a very... tough one

People knew you as being one of the most trusted merchants of Caravan Ribat. And while they all agreed on you being a very likeable and easygoing person, many of them also made fun of you behind your back, for the simple fact of you being overweight

a fact that you had always struggled with since your childhood. You've tried a many great ways to loose weight, yet either nothing worked or only had very short lived success

eventually, you gave up hope and stopped trying, instead learning to love and accept yourself for who you are

And exactly that love you held for yourself is what drew Dehya to you in the first place, eventually falling in love with all of you. Sometimes, you yourself couldn't believe that she actually loved you, questioning how you got so lucky. But not like you were complaining about it

Still, the glances and whispers people threw your way when you were walking through the streets, hand in hand with Dehya, often brought you down, knowing exactly what they were talking about

but anytime that happened, Dehya jumped right in, telling those people off, yelling at them to mind their own damn business. And it always worked as they hurried away, afraid of her wrath coming their way

whenever this happened, she'd always comfort you afterwards, knowing that, despite everything, words like that still hurt and weighed down on you. She'd then always tell you how much she loved you, how beautiful you were to her, pointing out everything she loved about you. It always helped to brighten your mood again

then one day, it just so happened that while you were out on a date with Dehya, someone decided to be bold and walk up to Dehya, finally speaking out loud what everyone was thinking

"Dehya.. why exactly are you with them?", he would ask, voice timid and quiet, yet he just had to ask

"You got a problem with my choice in parner, huh?", Dehya spoke up, ready to defend you against the entire world if she had to. She stood up from her place, standing in front of the guy as it almost seemed like she got ready for a fist fight

"N-no! I just meant... they don't.. exactly... suit you..", the guy tried to argue, but realised that with every word, he was just more and more digging his own grave

at this point, Dehya was fed up. She did not care for any onlookers as she beat up the guy. Once he was on the ground and apologizing profusely to her, she let go of him, instead addressing the crowd that had gathered around them

"Okay, everyone listen up because I'm not gonna repeat myself after this! They are my parnter, and I do not care what any of you think or have to say about it. It's my choice and you all better shut up about it, or I'll beat you up just like I did this punk!", she yelled and pointed at the guy still on the ground, blood running from his nose and mouth. Pretty sure she made him loose a teeth or two

surprisingly, after this encounter, people stopped commenting behind your back, your days becoming much calmer and more enjoyable since than. And even if you might not agree with Dehya's actions, you couldn't deny that it did have a positive outcome

Childe

most people would suspect that a person as active in their day to day life as Childe, would want a parnter that is at least similar to them in that way

yet, when they find out that his significant other is actually disabled and in a wheelchair, they can't hide the surprised sounds and expression on their faces

they can't possibly imagine how a relationship like that would last very long, seeing as the two of you would be polar opposites

oh boy, would they be surprised to find out that you and Childe have been going strong for several years now. Sure, you were not able to walk and sometimes, in specific situations, dependent on him, but those are also the moments Childe loved, when he got to show his strength when lifting you up or doing something else for you

at first, you felt stupid for having to rely on him in those specific situations, since you always strived to be as independent as possible, despite your situation. Yet Childe always comforted you, telling you that it wasn't a weakness at all to ask for help every now and then. On the contrary, knowing when you need help can be a great strength. So, that's how you decided to see things from then on, and it did help you a lot

and even though you were bound to this chair, that did not stop the enjoyment you held towards life. You loved traveling around, exploring the world and expieriencing it first hand

it helped a lot that Childe got to travel around a lot thanks to his work, so you'd always ask to accompany him. Of course, there were times where he couldn't do so, but most of the time, he was happy to take you along and show you all the places he knows about, and even discovering new ones with you

whenever he couldn't take you along on his travels, he'd always come back with a tone of souvenirs for you, along with so many stories to tell you that never failed to grab your attention, wishing that you could have been there with him

overall a very good, very protective boyfriend

the first few times he heard people talking about the two of you behind your backs, he went over to them, drawing his weapons, ready to kill whoever dared talk bad about you in his presence

word spread around quickly and soon, no one dared even mutter a word about your relationship, in fear that the Harbinger might catch wind of it and came hunting after them, ready to take their lives

Childe did not mind that reputation at all. He was already known as a battlehungry maniac, and if it meant people left you alone, not having to worry about ill intended comments, than all the better. He can handle it

the most important thing to him is, and always will be, your well being

[yevgenyyyy]

a sincere note about @/benjicotblckwood

Hi. I'm making this post to alert the hotd fandom about the utterly disturbing behavior of user @/benjicotblckwood (their other blogs: soulsbrne, cregnstark). Some of you might already be familiar with this blog and their posts, since they constantly spam the "cregan stark" and "tom taylor" tags with their inbox messages. Some of you might already have them blocked.

I've filtered and blocked all the tags and blogs that I could, but I've honestly had enough, and I feel obligated to make this post, as I believe it concerns all of us as a fandom. The way they choose to "conduct" themselves on this platform is abhorrent, showing an acute lack of respect and consideration for other users, and worst of all, for some of the actors - real human beings - involved in the show. They have already deleted many of the posts that I show and link below (I wonder why), but these are only a few drops in an ocean. I didn't even bother to scroll that far on their blog.

I want to preface this by saying: whether you choose to read this in full or not, I am begging you not to send them hate or to harass them in any way, shape, or form. That is NEITHER my intention nor my purpose. If you are angry, disgusted, etc., please, please, please just report and/or block them. Don't engage with them.

For the past few months, together with the anons and blogs they enable (and who enable them in return), they have repeatedly made incredibly disgusting and sexually explicit comments about Tom Taylor and Kieran Burton, tagging almost all of the posts with the actors' names and/or the characters they play, thus clogging the tags with shit like this (I suspect that they have since deleted some of the tags):

bonus: why was this post even tagged as Cregan Stark?

To further demonstrate that they do not see Tom Taylor as a real person but rather as an object to hypersexualise, they read and reblogged rpf (real person fanfiction) of him:

They have repeatedly stated that they comment on every instagram and tiktok post from Tom Taylor and Kieran Burton, asking them for their heights (and fuck knows what else). They themselves referred to this as harassment, which it very much is.

what DO you say on twitter, benjicotblckwood?

They constantly post clips and videos of Tom Taylor, where he is, who he is with, and what he is up to, often adding their own speculations and gross comments. This is literally cyberstalking. They even keep the things that he himself ends up deleting. (the post below is about a song Tom Taylor made and deleted)

Here are links to some deleted posts that contained some of their invasive and disgusting comments about Tom Taylor, his body, etc.:

https://www.tumblr.com/benjicotblckwood/758616703482675200/tom-is-over-6-feet-tall-and-hes-got-a-fat-juicy

https://www.tumblr.com/benjicotblckwood/758022883677192192/thomas-joseph-taylor-bradshaw-please-let-me-hit

https://www.tumblr.com/benjicotblckwood/758270274319810560/i-wish-that-truck-stop-employee-would-fuck-me-in?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/benjicotblckwood/758267144930738176/i-love-and-hate-that-tom-is-so-mysterious-like-i?source=share [they talked about "gatekeeping" and not wanting to "share" Tom Taylor in this one, 'cause.... you know... he's not a real person, obviously]

They also zoomed in on Harry Collett's underwear:

https://www.tumblr.com/benjicotblckwood/758272062982930432/the-fact-that-you-zoomed-in-and-enhanced-the?source=share [deleted post]

https://www.tumblr.com/benjicotblckwood/758267589006884864/like-there-is-absolutely-no-way-harry-had-boxers?source=share [deleted post]

I assume, because they constantly appear in the tags with questionable content (I'm being polite), they have been getting called out by multiple people (admittedly, not in a constructive way aka via anon hate). They got incredibly defensive (used buzzfeed and others doing similar things as excuses), acted like they didn't know what they were being called out for, and eventually deleted most of the posts. Don't get it twisted. These aren't jokes. This isn't what fandoms are. This isn't what fandoms are for. This isn't about a "handful" of "jokes" from today or yesterday. This is about dozens and dozens of posts (many of them incredibly disgusting and invasive) about real human beings, made over months and months, every single day.

Finally, I arrive at the reason why I'm making this post. They used the g*nocide in G*za to deflect from the shitshow on their blog. This isn't even performative activism. It's pure evil, in what I can only assume is an attempt to portray themselves as a good person who still has morals and empathy. As far as I'm aware, they have never ONCE shared a post, a fundraiser, anything about the topic on tumblr. But they chose this day, after responding to and deleting posts calling them out for their repulsive behavior online. This is beyond vile. This is fucking unacceptable.

I will conclude by reiterating what I wrote earlier: Please do not send them hate. Please do not harass them in any way, shape, or form. Please just report and/or block them.

[orangetonavy]

about I Saw the TV Glow...

i love movies and some of my favs are Titane, After Yang, Dogville, so and so. you get the gist. so at first i didn't really like the movie. i kinda get why the dialogues were so deadpan and the colours of the lighting were so strong ofc but i didn't inherently love it. the theme too, i was cis while watching it and for some scenes i could definitely feel it but overall it wasn't for me. the progression of the plot felt a little undercooked and all. i finished the movie and thought: hm. i get why all those trans people love it and it did make me feel some kind of ache at times. well. time to go to sleep.

like two days later, i kid you not, i realized that i wasn't cis. there was just this pang in my heart. a distant voice telling me that i still have time. time for what? i thought. i know i don't like my life but i've always liked being cis. i like being a girl. i love being a lesbian. i still do, but i was wrong. i was trying to make myself believe that i was content with being a woman.

now keep in mind that i live in asia. in my country women traditionally aren't allowed to look much masculine at all. no fat, no muscles, pale skin, long hair, tight but modest clothes, sweet voice, never angry. and because i fought my way through life to have relatively shorter, shaggy, dyed hair, a loud rough voice to get angry at older men for swearing at me on the bus and to love my body with all my muscles and layer of fat, i thought i already renovated myself. everything i did was eventually feminine because i am female.

but i am not feminine. thinking that i was a female by heart made me act in ways that would often confine me to femininity. i'd try to enjoy flaunting my body even after being sexually harassed for it my entire life ever since my breasts started to grow. sometimes i felt like i was useful whenever my body would get ogled at because that's how i learned to cope. i slowly got disinterested in sex and sexuality after an sa.

now that i take t and label myself as trans, i feel liberated. i don't have to cope with the shame and anger my body has given me my whole life anymore. i can be myself and i can tell people who i am in a way they would understand my own view on myself. my interest in sex and love and people are back. i'm unafraid of eventually becoming *the girl* in a relationship with a man because i am not a girl, and i'd meet someone who respects that someday.

there really is still time. i can't wait to be 30, 40, maybe i'd have a flat hairy chest by then. or maybe not and i come to peace with my guy tits. could be single but i doubt that bc i'd be hot lol. might be in a lesbian relationship. might have a husband. might be married to a spouse without gender or whatever. doesn't matter. i'll be loving myself and my partner. there is still so much time.

[delirious-donna]

The Moments Before [Part Six]

"You will drink from her. We will find out together if there is any truth behind the old stories. This is not a request. It’s an order.”

story summary: Levi isn’t hungry, or so that’s what he claims. A vampire must drink to survive, and his sire refuses to let the man give up without trying every trick up his sleeve. When a new ���donor’ appears, one who is different from all the rest, will Levi be able to keep resisting?

pairing: Levi Ackerman (vampire) x female reader (human)

warnings: hospital/medical setting (dream), implications of losing a parent, grief, fear of death, a lot of plotting for the story, vampire powerplay

note: the next chapter... yeah, it's gonna be a BIG one. Explosive to say the least, and expect very mature content. Whilst I'm here, let me thank all of those who have left comments or reblogged this story. 2024 has been a shitshow and writing has helped me stay sane. Thank you for indulging my hobby.

Part Five | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Part Seven

“What made you want to try this line of work?”

The question sounded innocent enough, but you still peered curiously at Hange.

They were lying spread out on an antique couch that looked like it was due far from respect than what it was receiving. Your eyes narrowed on them, picking at their cuticles and swinging a barefoot over the back of said couch.

Trust was earned in your book. That was a lesson you had learned the hard way, and if you were to continue your service here then you needed to be mindful of what information you volunteered and to whom. Saying that, Hange had been nothing but friendly towards you, in fact, they were the first person to really talk to you.

Pleasantries were all well and good, but they wore thin very quickly. Hange had appeared in your life like a whirlwind, and despite the reservations you had promised yourself you would hold tight to, you found it all too easy to become a little more familiar with them.

“Well, the money is good,” you admitted slowly, cautiously.

Hange snorted and rolled their body, so they were looking at you properly, glasses perched low on their nose. “Girl, please. There has got to be more to it than the fat wad of cash Erwin handed you. I know—for a fact—that there are well paying jobs that are far less intrusive than this one. You had to move here for an indefinite period. That is not an easy decision to make for a quick buck, even if it is the big bucks.”

“It was a good enough answer when your boss interviewed me, and I use that word lightly, grilled would be far more accurate.”

Erwin had been very thorough in his line of questioning, even going as far as to ask for your family history going back six generations. You recalled him explaining with the most casual of shrugs and a soft, near disconcerting smile, that no vampire worth mentioning wanted to take blood from a potential relative. What a disturbing thought…

“Erwin and I do not think alike—at all—in any way, shape or form.” Hange snorted, amused that you would ever think them to be remotely similar. “Whilst he would absolutely know if you were lying…”

A thrill shot through your spine. Hange smiled, knowing that your heart rate had spiked at that very moment.

“As I was saying… he would know if you were lying, but sometimes we can tell the truth whilst not revealing everything. I enjoy picking holes in people. Consider yourself my latest project.”

Suddenly the gummy bears in your hand looked less appealing than before. Dropping the handful into your lap, you placed one on your tongue and sucked on it quietly. You had no interest in being a weird science experiment.

“C’mon,” Hange chided with a childlike whine.

They rolled right off the edge of the couch with an ungraceful thump and crawled on their knees towards the overstuffed chair you occupied, planting their chin on the arm. They reminded you of a puppy who had just been scolded.

“We’re friends, right? It’s not like I don’t trust you. I just wanna know. There’s a reason other than the money, isn’t there?”

If you didn’t already feel trapped, you certainly did now.

How on earth had you found yourself in the company of a vampire acting like a damn puppy so readily? They were meant to be these all-powerful beings and here was Hange acting like if you gave them the barest of crumbs, they would roll over to present their belly. It defied logic!

Pushing out a long, low breath, you straightened your back.

You could admit to certain things, you didn’t need to say it all. It wouldn’t be so bad for at least someone around here to know a little more about you. Your mind immediately flitted to Levi, cheeks flushing that you wanted that person to be him more than anyone else. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t care. That’s what you told yourself because the alternative was too dizzying.

“I definitely didn’t lie; money really is a major factor. My dad… he works too hard. He’s getting older now and he refuses to slow down even though I know—I can see—the toil it’s taking on him. I want him to retire whilst he still has a chance to live, to enjoy his golden years without having to worry that he won’t have enough money to pay the bills. Do you know how annoying it is to have a father who refuses to listen to reason?”

“I can imagine,” Hange replied, eyebrows raised, and you had the distinct impression that they were thinking of one such person who fit your description. You smiled in recognition. “I get that, but blood donor, really? Didn’t fancy a short stint of working as a high-end escort or something that doesn’t come with the iron deficiency and the headache of cranky vampires?”

This was the crux of your problem; vampires offered you the potential solution to another problem. A far more personal problem. It felt like your clock was ticking and the noise only grew louder and more deafening with each day that passed.

You blinked hard, shutting out the fluorescent strip lighting and the beeping monitors that never ceased their noise. Not even in those final moments, the sound of a flatlining heart monitor permanently scarred your memories.

That was not your future. It had been so much of your past that you damn well refused to give it any room in your future. Drastic times called for drastic measures. Weren’t you using them as much as they were using you? It was a fair trade, right?

“You’re right, it would have been easy to fall into escorting, if I could find a place reputable enough to ensure I wasn’t going to be taken advantage of, but I have a problem with getting close to people,” you said whilst looking down at your fuzzy yellow socks.

“How so? You seem just fine in being able to converse and I don’t sense any social anxiety in you, even when you’re the only human in the room. Plus, this job requires you to get close… I mean, it’s kinda necessary.” Hange sat back on their haunches, puzzlement evident in their features and their eyes dropping to your neck and back.

It felt like being under a microscope.

You shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance. “People die. I have a problem with that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m fucked.”

“An understatement, dear.”

A chuckle left your lips, it grew into peals of laughter until you were clutching your stomach and bent over from the pain of them. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes, not yet falling, and you were quick to wipe them away as you fixed your watery stare on Hange.

You hadn’t lied, but again, you hadn’t disclosed everything.

“Any chance we can change the subject for now? I’m feeling suitably embarrassed,” you said with a hiccup.

Gratitude filled your chest when they nodded, solemn one moment then playful the next, moving on to regale you with tales of their younger years spent with Erwin and Levi.

~

“What’s the problem?” Erwin inquired, fatigue evident in his tone, and mirrored by the pinching motion at the bridge of his nose.

Levi wasn’t keen to be back in this office, but he knew that when it came to finding the answers he needed… Erwin would be key. There was only so much he could find out on his own.

He just needed to take care with his words, not something he was known for.

“Why her?”

The blond stilled, his piercing blue eyes locking with Levi’s. A smile unfurled—devilish and knowing. “There is something you aren’t telling me, Levi, but that’s okay. You’ll tell me in your own time, I have nothing but time, after all.”

“You’re not helping! Can you answer a question without turning it back on me or into some elaborate riddle that makes my head pound?” Levi all but growled.

“Fine,” he sighed. “You want to know why her… I don’t know if I can truly articulate my reasons, there was simply a feeling. She felt like someone you would like, for lack of a better word. That you wouldn’t steamroll over her and perhaps she could reach you where I have been unsuccessful.”

Erwin’s gaze turned thoughtful, the edges of his eyes softening into something akin to melancholy. Levi glanced away, not nearly ready to decipher any of the emotions flitting freely across his maker’s face.

“Do you remember those stories you used to tell us about blood singing?” Levi asked without further preamble.

“… yes. Of course. They are legends of sort; I don’t think there are many—if any—that believe the tales these days. Why do you ask?”

Levi looked at him now. Gray mercurial irises fixed steadily on those artic blue ones that never failed to leave him feeling as if Erwin was looking inside his head, rifling through his memories and thoughts as if it was his personal filing cabinet.

“Did it happen—”

Levi held up a hand, and for once, Erwin quieted.

“You say there is little to no one that believes it to be true, but what about you? Do you think meeting someone who’s blood sings to them is even possible? I hate to admit that I respect your opinion, and whilst I am neither confirming nor denying if it has happened, I want to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

Erwin sat back in his chair, elbows braced on the sturdy arms and his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His lips pursed. If Levi didn’t know any better, he would say his heart was racing, but he was too far into the starvation process for that to be true. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, fingers gripping tighter into his thighs to prevent himself from spitting and hissing, demanding an answer rather than this painfully prolonged silence.

“Well, my head says it was a foolish story concocted to soothe the newly turned, for those that disliked the idea of constantly taking blood from humans to sustain their existence. One person who was made for them, who could provide everything they needed and potentially be able to turn without it affecting their blood… who wouldn’t want that?”

For a moment, Levi thought that was his final thought, but Erwin surprised him by continuing after more than a beat or two of silence.

“My heart wants it to be true,” Erwin said with a solemn nod of his head. “For one it would mean more power to any vampire lucky enough to meet their blood singer…”

Levi scoffed at Erwin’s words but did not interject further, letting him continue despite the arch of his thick black eyebrow.

“Ultimately, our lives are lonely. We can be surrounded by our own kind, but true connections between vampires are rare and don’t often survive the difficulties that come with that type of relationship. I would be a fool not to want a slice of companionship that didn’t involve an element of wariness.”

Erwin sat forward, fixing Levi with a penetrating stare. “I am not above wanting to find the person destined to be mine and mine alone. Those blessed enough to encounter these… special people, they should not squander that gift.”

Goddammit.

He was right. That realisation grated down Levi’s nerves more than he thought it would. If all of this was correct, he really would be an idiot not to explore it further, but… was it the right thing to do? How would you take this news? Would you even believe him?

The thought that you were his perfect companion, the only person in this world who could sustain him indefinitely, even if turned, and would strengthen him in ways he did not yet comprehend, that was a lot to ask of anyone. A donor’s job was only ever meant to last a few months, maybe a year, but not for the rest of your life.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted quietly.

His hand clenched into a fist atop his lap, eyes concentrating on how the tendons and muscles flexed and shifted beneath his pale skin. “Who am I to condemn anyone’s live like that? No one would want to be tethered to me in such a way.”

“You forget your past lovers,” Erwin interjected calmly. “There was at least one of them who begged you for the chance of immortality. Was that not in an effort to stay with you?”

Levi bristled at the memory, at the ache that still found him all these decades later. “I was merely a means to an end, and you damn well know that. They were far more driven in ambitions than I realised until it was almost too late.”

“In any case, that is by the by. I must insist that you determine if your assumptions are correct. Yes, Levi, I am well aware that you think our newest donor is your blood singer despite the pitifully weak attempts at hiding that fact from me. I am not an idiot. Plus, it seems you might have intrigued Hange by letting it slip in some capacity to the little one.”

“What do you mean?” Levi demanded, his guard coming up in an instant. He did not want Hange poking their annoying nose into this business, they would be insufferable to say the least.

Laughter erupted from Erwin, far too boisterous for Levi’s liking. “Well, did you mention anything about blood singing to our guest? Maybe you didn’t mean to, or you hadn’t realised, but she asked Hange about it on the drive here after your first encounter. I had to pull that little tidbit from them, they were not happy about my means either.”

“I’ll bet,” Levi grumped. He was all too familiar with the exertion of power that Erwin had over him and the others made by his hands. Hange might be a pest at the best of times, but he hoped that the experience had not been too rough, especially given how precarious Erwin’s mood had been of late.

Standing, Levi brushed his palms over his thighs and moved towards the door. The action was mirrored by the much taller man, Erwin intercepting him without much effort.

Suddenly the air shifted. No longer was there a sense of familial warmth, more so it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Oppressive and thick—the gesture did not go unnoticed.

“Now is not the time to be leaving, Levi.”

“Are you planning on stopping me if I try?” he asked, head cocked in curiosity of how far Erwin was willing to play his hand.

“I would rather not, but if needs must…”

The threat lingered; Levi could feel the first tendrils of power leaking from his sire and knew if push came to shove, he would be forced to bend the knee and remain if that was what was asked of him. He hated that power, that stupid connection that bound him to Erwin like an invisible ball and chain around his ankle. This was part of why he wanted to end it all, or so he tried to convince himself.

“If you were so set on ending your existence, why not have someone behead you or destroy your heart? Levi, I am sorry, but all I have viewed this ridiculous plot of yours is a temper tantrum. You will drink from her. We will find out together if there is any truth behind the old stories. This is not a request. It’s an order.”

The hairs on Levi’s arms and at the back of his neck stood up. Energy pulsed like lapping waves inside the room, they were coming faster and stronger with each ripple. Soon he would be forced to bow to the whims of his sire.

He could count on one hand the number of times this had played out. Erwin meant every word; his conviction would not be swayed. Should he continue to fight against it?

“Why?” he asked, voice hoarse with the effort of producing the single word.

“I have my reasons. Whether I decide to clue you into them will depend on how the next little while goes,” Erwin answered stiffly.

Levi found his gaze straying to the door. Not because he was still trying to leave, he could have shadowstepped if he didn’t know that Erwin would prevent it, but because there were voices on the other side.

Voices he recognised.

His heart lurched in his chest. Golden threads awakening to tighten around the withering organ.

You were coming.

~

“Does it hurt?”

It was amazing how childlike you sounded despite being in your early twenties, almost like it wasn’t your voice at all. Except… it was yours.

Your mother turned a weak smile in your direction, it didn’t reach her eyes—dulled with pain—and you knew the answer would be a lie. Not one borne of bad intention, quite the opposite, but it would be a deceit regardless.

“No, darling. I’m fine, more than fine when my girl is here with me.” She reached for you; her hand was thinner than you had ever known it, the skin near translucent to highlight the veins beneath and the fragile bones.

The comfort you should have felt from taking your mum’s hand didn’t manifest. There was no warmth, only an ice-cold hand wrapped delicately around yours. You worried that if she tried to squeeze your fingers, her bones might snap entirely.

The time was coming. There was nothing you could do to stop it. Doctors had tried and failed. Your mother would die and there wasn’t a single thing in this world you could do to prevent it.

It wasn’t long before the familiar lump settled into your throat, and welling of tears began in your eyes, smudging your vision whilst you tried desperately to blink them away. You could feel the frown creasing between your eyebrows, and the downward tilt of your lips. It didn’t matter how long you had known this would be the outcome; the hurt was still as raw as when the doctor had given his final prognosis.

Slowly, you crumpled over her bed. The bright overheard strip lighting might not be as intense in the private side room than in the main ward, but they still stung your eyes even when you closed them tightly shut.

If only the constant beeping from the monitors would fade away until all you could hear was your own laboured breathing and the soothing hum from your mum as she stroked her fingers through your hair in an effort to console you.

Your father should be here, and his absence only became apparent when three resounding knocks came from the door, with it a chill far greater swept over you until you were convinced you could see the very breath from your mouth.

Something wanted to come in, but it wasn’t time.

There was more to be said, more to be shared. More more more.

“You can’t ignore it forever,” your mum said quietly.

“Watch me.”

She made to tut, but her tongue got stuck behind her teeth and she coughed instead. You could hear the rattle in her chest, the exertion of her lungs working harder than they should have to.

The guilt ate you and another knock chimed like a death knell.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, lowering your head at the same moment her fingers slipped out of your grasp.

Your vision greyed from the outward corners in, and no matter how much you tried to blink and refocus or look around, the result didn’t change. The beeping was getting worse. There were people in the room now. A black shadow loomed from behind you and a scream ripped through your throat until you jolted awake.

Sweat dripped down your neck as you sat bolt upright, blinking and trying to reorient yourself once your heart thundered so furiously you thought it might break through your ribs.

You were in the same parlour room from earlier, where you had spent a fun few hours chatting with Hange and playing card games when they got bored of only telling stories. The walls were decorated in duck egg blue and the armchair you had fallen asleep on was as opulent as you recalled.

How long were you out?

Hange was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly, with dawn comprehension, the idea of sleeping in a room where anyone living or visiting the household could walk right in cooled your blood. You were nothing more than a naïve lamb in a den of lions.

It took you a good while to calm your racing heart and nerves, a good thing too or you might have screamed when the faraway door clicked loudly before opening just enough for Hange’s head to pop through.

Their eyes scanned the room then fell on you, eyebrows rising along with a smile. “You’re finally awake! It’s only been three hours… tired, were we?”

Three hours?!

“Something like that,” you grumbled, cheeks warming.

Hange chuckled and stepped inside to lean on the door. “Not wise to fall asleep anywhere other than your bedroom. Y’know, it locks for a reason. Gotta keep the monsters at bay somehow, right?”

“Oh, hey! I’m only teasing,” they continued when your pallor turned to ash. “No one would dare, not here, I swear it. Erwin would murder anyone that even thinks about hurting you.”

“That’s… comforting?” You mused, unclear if it was comforting or kind of terrifying to know. “I didn’t sleep great last night; I must have dozed off. I blame your lame ass stories.”

Hange scoffed, hands on hips and nostrils flaring.

“My stories are unrivalled, thank you very much! They sure as hell are more honest than anything you’d get out of Levi, that’s for damn certain. He’s such a stick in the mud.” Hange shook her head as if recalling some long distant memory then jerked up straight. “Nevermind that! You’re wanted!”

“I’m what?”

“Wanted,” they repeated as if that clearly explained everything, and they didn’t know why you needed clarity.

“I don’t speak Hange-euse, can you elaborate?”

“You. Are. Wanted. In. Erwin’s. Office. In. Exactly. Thirty. Minutes. Move!” Hange enthused each word carefully, over-enunciating every syllable dramatically. They motioned their hand between you and the door, gesturing for you to get a move on, but for a moment you were frozen.

Erwin wanted to see you again. You weren’t sure why it felt different from any of the other times you had met with him, especially over the past few days, but there was an air of something brewing that you disliked.

That ominous feeling from your dream resurged with gusto. Had it been some weird kind of warning or were you letting your paranoia overwhelm you? Whatever it was, you couldn’t dwell on it, not when you looked like you had been dragged backwards through a garden maze.

“Alright, I’m going. Don’t shove!”

Destiny awaited behind the mahogany door at the other side of the house. Whether it was good or bad…

That was entirely in your hands now.

[amorgansgal]

Practice Makes Perfect

So here we go! At long last, I've finished my fic and I loved writing this one so much! Just to ensure absolute clarity I'm kind of seeing the academy as a university, so everyone here is over the age of 20 and somehow I've pegged Gale as a complete slut evidently!

Gale x Fat Female Reader

CW: Sexual content, Oral sex

‘I really don’t think this is a good idea,’ you desperately whisper to your friend, Nira, who is dragging you through the mahogany panelled library where absurdly high bookshelves tower above you both.

The library is quieter in the late afternoons and evenings, there are only a few students either absorbed in the small mountains of books that surround them or are busily writing out long essays, the familiar, comforting sound of turning pages and the scratch of pen against paper fills the large room. As you pass the candlesticks the wicks catch alight, now that the room is getting gloomier and the sky is darkening. The sun is sinking low in the sky, casting the last rays of golden light to be dispersed through the diamond patterned windows. The dark wooden floorboard underneath your feet glitters with the thrumming magic that spills from the books in the room and the stunning reds, golds and oranges of the last light of the day.

‘Don’t be such a wet blanket,’ Nira hisses in response. ‘Besides, I thought you were interested.’

‘I am,’ you insist, though a hot blush still creeps up your cheeks. ‘But I don’t want to be mocked or for him to judge me.’

‘He’s not going to judge you. From what I heard he quite likes…’ she hesitates, pursing her lips as though wanting to find the right way of putting it.

‘Fat women?’ you prompt.

She sighs. ‘I was going to say ladies with larger thighs, but sure, fat women.’

‘You promise me, he won’t laugh or-’

‘He’s not going to laugh and if he does I’ll fireball him right in his face.’

You bite back a laugh at the thought and Nira grins at you, then continues, ‘Besides, I’ve had the joy of experiencing Gale’s tongue and it’s well worth it. Honestly, I wish he was interested in properly dating someone, because I’d throw my hat in the ring, so many men act like the whole thing is disgusting. Oh but we’re expected to suck them off whenever, even if their dicks stink like piss!’

You smile, it’s been a complaint of Nira ever since she got to experience Gale’s tongue and you’ve heard all about his ability non-stop since. Most of the girls in your class have talked about it. You’re surprised they’re not jealous of one another or are trying to win him over, but he apparently doesn’t seem to care about entering a serious relationship and is just happy to oblige his classmates’ desires. You had your concerns though that he would not be interested in you. You’d always been on the larger size, your mother certainly didn’t help matters by pointedly making remarks about how most people associated female magic users with beautiful, ethereal waif like creatures. No one thought of dumpy little witches unless they were old and ugly. You did your best to shrug off comments like that but it still stung and you felt like you had to work twice as hard as your classmates just to be given any forethought or attention from either your peers or your teachers.

Gale, when you had occasion to work with him, was refreshingly respectful, kind and seemed to actually see you. You’d grown almost accustomed to any man’s gaze immediately drifting past you and onto your thinner friends. If it didn’t happen so often you might have even been angry about it, but you didn’t really see the point. So consequently your experience with men was rather limited. You’d been kissed, sure, but it was such a fumbling, innocent mess of a kiss you weren’t quite sure whether to count it. You’d touch yourself but you always felt a bit embarrassed about it and sometimes your own self-doubts would turn you off. So it was usually a rushed affair and didn’t quite leave you fully satisfied.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Nira says as you reach the end of the library where instead of desks and rigid back chairs there are soft, plush sofas nestled in alcoves and you see Gale look up at your approach. He gives you both a warm smile and you immediately feel that this whole thing is a horrible, terrible idea. Your feet slow and Nira is practically dragging you over. Your heart is thudding in your chest, the blood rushing in your ears, and it feels like your throat is about to close up. Gale is handsome. He has foppish brown hair that tickles the back of his neck. His eyes are a warm, deep brown. His easy going smile is inviting. And you feel all your weight, the soft plumpness of your belly, your thighs catching slightly on chairs and tables as you walk over. He is going to say no, he is going to look at you like you are disgusting and repulsive and how could you even think he would want to give you pleasure?

‘Good afternoon, Nira,’ he says and inclines his head in greeting. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Well, it’s not so much pleasure you owe me!’ Nira says with a grin and tosses her head at you. ‘You remember Y/N, right?’

‘Of course, I still am very resentful you soundly beat me in my alchemy test!’’ he says, though there’s no malice in the tone as his smile widens and his eyes glimmer with mischief. 

‘Well, she’s heard what you like to do.’

Gale laughs, and for a moment your heart seizes in terror. ‘Really? Am I getting that kind of reputation?’ he asks, though you can see he’s quite proud of such a reputation.

Nira rolls her eyes. ‘Oh come off it Gale, you’ve practically had every girl in the classroom that way and we all talk about it!’

His eyes flick back to you and a shiver runs down your spine. The pupils in his eyes have widened and you’re quite certain it has nothing to do with the gloom of the library. He wets his lips and you’re almost scared of the way he’s looking at you… he’s looking at you with desire and your silly heart doesn’t quite know what to make of it. But then he clears his throat and gives you another sweet, winning smile.

‘And I take it you’re interested in allowing me to practise? Because if you’re not and Nira has just dragged you here when you don’t like the idea, then please don’t be bullied into it. I’m very happy to have a chance to work on my technique, but I don’t like the idea of someone being less than enthusiastic,’ he says and his gaze is entirely focused on you, and you almost don’t want to look at him because it’s so startling being treated like an object of desire. But you manage to keep your head raised and your eyes fixed on him.

‘Yes, I do… I am interested,’ you say. ‘If you’re… um… interested in me, you don’t have to if it would prove distasteful.’

That same wicked, mischievous gleam is back and he draws closer to you. ‘I am interested and I assure you, it never proves distasteful, quite the contrary in fact.’

‘Gods, should I just turn my back or are you going to wait until you’ve gone somewhere more private?’ Nira asks and you flush at her words, though Gale lets out another burst of laughter.

‘I would assume my room would be preferable,’ he says to you. ‘Though Lucia and I did make use of that corner over there,’ he gestures to a table tucked into a corner by a bookshelf and you inhale quickly, imagining your hands holding tightly onto the shelves, your butt on the table and Gale’s head between your thighs. You bite you lip and press your legs together, there is no denying the desire that courses through you at the thought of the risk that would be, the possibility of being caught, though you would find it mortifying. It’s better to not get ahead of yourself and you nod.

‘I would prefer the privacy of your room,’ you say, and Gale offers his hand to you. It takes you a moment for you to take it, but he gives your fingers a gentle squeeze and then puts the book he was holding back on the shelf. 

‘I assume we should go there now, unless you have prior plans,’ he says to you. Were it any other man you would have assumed he might be trying to put you off, but it sounds like he genuinely cares about whether or not you’re busy.

‘No, no, we can go there now,’ you say, then glance away because of how embarrassingly eager you sound.

‘Good,’ Gale says and takes hold of your hand more firmly. Nira catches your eye and smiles as he begins to walk by her.

‘Have fun!’ she says.

‘See you later, Nira,’ Gale says to her, you only manage a nod as you feel rather tongue tied.

***

Gale’s room is definitely cleaner than some of the guys’ rooms you had seen within the dormitory rooms of Blackstaff Academy. Oh, there’s robes tossed over chairs, the desk is littered with books, papers, quills, an open box of herbs and crystals and sublimates. But there’s no forgotten plates or dirty cups. Gale’s room actually smells quite good too, a faint hint of bergamot and cedar. He pulls out the chair in front of the desk and turns it around to face the bed, then gestures for you to sit in the chair. You sit down, nervously placing your hands in front of your belly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Gale closes the bedroom door, then sits down on the bed opposite you.

‘So, now that Nira isn’t around, you definitely want to do this? He asks.

You nod, your throat feels very dry and tight. Gale smiles at you softly. ‘Just want to check, as I say, don’t want to do this with anyone who has doubts. I’d like to ask you a few things first.’

You nod again and curse yourself for losing all sense of any wit or wisdom you once had in your brain! But Gale is relaxed and begins work on removing his boots. ‘First, easy one, do you want me to lock the door or just have it closed. I’m sure you know I have a tressym and she comes and goes as she pleases, and while she’s respectful and polite, I don’t put it past some of our classmates not to barge in!’

You think about it carefully, then say, ‘Lock the door please.’

He casts arcane lock on the door and then grins at you, you can’t help smiling back. ‘And you know knock, so you want to get out you’re free to go whenever you want,’ he says, the implication runs underneath, you’re in control, what you say goes, if you don’t like it you can go and there won’t be any hurt feelings. You feel rather touched he’s going to all this effort.

‘Next question, would you prefer to be partially clothed or entirely naked? When I do this I do quite enjoy touching my partner everywhere, but your comfort is more important than what I find enjoyable,’ Gale says.

You look away, you still feel self-conscious about your belly and you can’t imagine Gale would want to touch the soft, fleshy weight of it, let alone even see it! ‘I’ll keep my blouse on, if that’s alright,’ you mutter.

His two fingers catch under your chin and he lifts your head. ‘It’s fine by me, but it’s more important that it’s what you find alright, your comfort comes first. Now, biggest and hardest question,’ he says, smiling. ‘Can I kiss you or would you rather I didn’t and just work my magic between your legs?’

‘Yes,’ you whisper, your eyes are captured entirely by his and your voice sounds faint. ‘You can kiss me.’

His hand slips down your cheek, lightly resting against your neck, his fingers curve round your head and he pulls you forward. His mouth finds yours and he kisses you sweetly at first, tentative, gentle, as though he is worried you might flinch away, but nothing could be further from the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest and you feel like you might forget to breathe. Your hand hesitantly goes to his chest, you don’t want to push your luck, but he instead presses his free hand over yours and you can feel the warmth of him bleeding through his shirt. He lets out a groan and then pulls away from you, breathing hard and certainly wearing an expression of wanting to eat you up. 

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘If I’m not careful I’ll get carried away!’

You wonder what ‘carried away’ might entail, given what you’re about to do. But you don’t have much time to think about it, he helps you up from the chair and unties the laces of your skirt. He tugs it down over your hips and you watch him bite his lip when your thighs come into view, he’s utterly focused on your legs and his hand reaches out eagerly, but he seems to collect himself to not just grab a meaty handful. Gale gently strokes down your thigh and guides you to the bed, grabbing the pillows and putting them behind your back. He removes the slippers that had been on your feet, tossing them off into a corner of the room and seems to admire the stockings you wear, though they aren’t particularly sexy you think, just the fairly standard academy uniform ones. Once you’re comfortable, he returns to looking at your legs, he traces his fingers up from your ankles to just behind your knees, making you shiver. You still feel a bit embarrassed about Gale seeing you like this, of opening your legs so he can see all of you.

Gale catches your eye and smiles. He leans down and kisses you, that same sweet, soft kiss. ‘You alright?’ he whispers.

‘Mmhm,’ you manage, well at least you made a sound this time. Gale chuckles quietly.

‘You look so beautiful,’ he says, then trails kisses down your mouth, your jaw and neck, nipping at your ear and making you gasp as the hot little jolt of pleasure soars through you. You decide to ignore that him saying you’re beautiful is probably both something he says to all the girls who come to him for this and also definitely a lie in your case.

He scoots down the bed and slowly pulls apart your legs, his stare is so intense you have to close your eyes. His fingers skim up your legs, his nails stroke down your thighs, until they reach the crease between them and your mound. 

‘Hmm pretty,’ he says, and he pulls his right hand away for a moment. You open your eyes to see him with his thumb in his mouth that he pulls out with a pop and then he places it against your clit and circles it. The sensation makes you gasp and arch up, though you still cover your belly with your arm. Gale lets out another tight groan and suddenly lies down between your legs, his fingers still play with your clit, feather-light touches sliding down to your entrance and teasing it, then going back up making you bite your lip hard to not let out a sound.

‘You can make as much noise as you like, in fact I’d rather you do,’ he says, then brings one of your thighs over his shoulder. Your eyes flicker open as he presses kisses against it. He nips at the sensitive skin, a playful, teasing bite. ‘It tells me if I’m doing a good job.’

He keeps kissing down your thigh and suddenly he’s at the apex, his hungry dark eyes watching you intently, you can feel his breath on your nether regions, your belly feels tight and it’s all you can do to both stay on the bed exactly where you are or beg him to relieve you of the growing ache and need for something. He gives you one quick, delicious smile and then buries himself between your thighs. You don’t know what to expect, but his warm tongue darting out, circling your clit and then more firmly suckling it makes you feel like a hot jolt of electricity zapped through your body. The pleasure is mind melting and Gale is all to happy to apparently drown in you, his mouth and lips and tongue… You forget yourself, forget all your shame, the hatred of your body, the disgust you feel with yourself, and surrender yourself utterly to pleasure. 

He’s good, too good. He seems to cotton on quickly to what you like, how best to draw out every bit of pleasure, everything that makes your toes curl, that tighten the muscles in your thighs, that makes you instinctively grasp a handful of his brown hair between your hands and he keeps bringing you to the peak of pleasure over and over, until you see stars in your eyes and feel so lost to it all, so desperate you wind up babbling and pleading for him to let you cum.

‘Please Gale, please, please, don’t stop, please don’t stop. I need it, I need it so badly!’

You feel his laughter vibrate through his body, but finally, mercifully, he acquiesces and you are undone by pleasure, it roars through your body like a furnace, his tongue still maddeningly teasing your clit and you are left almost sobbing on the bed, uncaring of the warm gush between your legs, the air not filling your lungs enough, the world feels dizzy and spectacular and glorious. His head pops up and you can’t help the laugh you let slip at his slightly dazed, but altogether thoroughly pleased expression. 

‘You need to taste yourself,’ he insists, and he kisses you again fiercely, his tongue sliding into your mouth and you do. It’s not a bad taste to your surprise, musky and a little tart, but intoxicating and sweet. Once he’s satisfied he raises his head, though he’s still lying on top of you, he rests his forehead against yours and sighs contentedly. His chin and small beard is soaked through. ‘How was that?’ he asks.

It takes you a moment to clear your throat and find your voice, but more because you’ve been done in, not because you are flustered. ‘Good, very, very good. Thank you.’

‘No, thank you,’ he says, and you let out a breath of laughter that he’s still ever the gentleman. He gets to his feet, grabs an empty basin and a cloth, and comes back to your side. He fills the bowl with warm water using a prestidigitation spell and starts work cleaning you up, tenderly washing you down, though you almost feel a little disappointed you couldn’t keep the slick between your thighs. There’s already a delightful prickling sensation from where his beard rubbed against your legs.

He helps you to your feet, then picks up your skirt, giving it a little shake to remove any dust and holding it open for you to step in. ‘I can manage to dress myself,’ you say.

‘I know, didn’t doubt that, Miss beats-me-soundly-at-alchemy,’ he teases. ‘But I like doing this.’

He brings over your shoes and insists on helping you with those too, having you sit back down on the bed as he puts them on your feet. You have a feeling it might just be because he gets to touch your legs once more.

‘You have the best legs,’ he murmurs. 

You let out a snort of laughter. ‘Given how many you’ve apparently seen, I doubt that!’

But he vehemently shakes his head. ‘I mean it, the best legs in the whole school. If you ever wish for another time I’d be happy to oblige, but I’d quite like it if you sat on my face.’

‘Gale, I’d squish you or break your nose!’ you say.

His eyes gleam at the thought. ‘Well worth the risk!’ He gets to his feet, then offers you a hand and after helping you up, he turns your hand over and presses a kiss to the knuckles. ‘Please come back any time.’

You shiver with delight at the thought, but simply nod and leave the room.

***

Of course Nira wants all the juicy, sordid details and you spend the better part of the evening quietly whispering and giggling in your dormitory room as you recount it. She does seem surprised though when you mention that Gale had asked if he could kiss you.

‘Really? He didn’t ask to kiss me,’ she muses, then gives a shrug. ‘Maybe that’s just something new he does, though I swear Jacanthe was just before you and she didn’t talk about him kissing her. I’ll have to ask her at breakfast.’

It’s an odd, trivial notion you’re sure, but you can’t help the pleased little smile at the thought that maybe, just maybe he had solely wanted to kiss you. But you dismiss it, Gale could have any women at the academy and you know better than to get swept away with the idea that maybe his feelings ran deeper for you than anyone else!

[eilaafterhours]

Champion’s Gloves [Lighter Lorenz]

Content: Glove Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Pussy Slapping, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Header: selenitis on Bluesky

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity :)

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

“You see something you like?”

“Yeah. You—but more specifically, your gloves.”

“What? You wanna wear’em?”

“I want them in me.”

And that’s how you ended up on Lighter’s lap. Your legs were hoisted up on his, keeping you spread nicely as his leather-bound fingers stretched your pussy even better. 

“Hah…fuck…!” Your hips bucked suddenly which pulled a chuckle from him. 

“You like it that much?”

“Mmm…and your fat dick likes it too—so shut the fuck up.”

He yanked his fingers out suddenly, and you were about to curse at him when that same hand gave your wet cunt a slap. You jerked off him a bit (you probably would have completely fallen off him if it hadn’t had a firm grip on your hip). 

“You keep talking like that, and I’ll stop here.” He slapped your pussy again. “So what are you gonna do?”

It took you a second to respond as your brain was a little fried from the sudden waves of pleasure that it had been assaulted with. 

“I’ll…behave…” 

“Good.” He shoved his fingers back in your cunt, immediately curling them and hitting that spot. “It ain’t that hard to being good.” 

You bit your lip, to keep yourself from potentially proving him wrong, but also because of how quickly he was working you. He had also pulled his cock free from the confines of his pants, so his fatass cock was leaking beads of pre-cum down your back.  

“Don’t bite your lip, baby.” He had leaned down to your ear. His voice was hot and heavy with want. “Lemme hear you. Say my name.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. 

“Lighter, Lighter, Lighter—!” The speed of his fingers has picked up.  “Lighter!” Your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed in his arms. You couldn’t feel anything but the electric pulses of pleasure. 

Once you had come down from your high, Lighter spoke. “Wow…I didn’t know you were a squirter.” 

You peeled your eyes opened to assess the damages of your climax. Your body flushed as you took in the sight. It not only made it on the coffee table in front of you, but on the floor on the other side of it. You had never done that before, and you told him as much. 

He chuckled. “So I made you do that. I like that.”

“I bet you do.” You grumbled. 

“Yeah.” His grip on you changed, and suddenly your back was pressed against the couch cushions. “Let’s see if I can do it again, but with my dick.” 

I've been wanting to write something like this for a while. Left my phone and computer for a moment and thought of that opening dialogue, damn near ran back to my phone to write it down lol.

I'm also becoming backlogged lol. I've had this in my head, then Sylus' Myth came out (still haven't read that because--) and then A Date with Death returned with the Beyond the Bet DLC, and I've got to write something for that soon because I'm literally rattling my cage with what was in there, but ANYWAY! Yeah, swamped and all I've got are ideas.

Masterlist

[wolven91]

Backyard Grill

The ursidain's mighty stomach growled in frustration.

Jimbas or 'Jim', to his human colleague, was starving! Jim liked being called Jim, it meant he was accepted by a human and acceptance by a human meant he got certain benefits. The giant creature's stomach protested again, as if saying 'where's the rest?!'. He wasn't actually starving. Oh sure, the ursidain known as Jim got what was required from the ship canteen each day in the form of three flat meals that totalled the calorie content that his kind needed to maintain themselves, but by the deep forest, in his opinion this stuff would barely fed a sparrow! Jim stroked a broad tongue over the long-emptied plate. If he closed his eyes, he could still taste the meal.

Jim's look of misery was removed when he opened his big brown, but sad eyes and saw Uncle Rich walking up.

Uncle Rich was a human and was neither Jimbas's uncle, nor, to Jim's knowledge, was the uncle to any of the other aliens aboard the Community ship. But nonetheless, everyone called him their 'uncle'. As a guest and part of the 'Guardian Initiative' program, Jimbas was assigned to Uncle Rich so he had a partner through all this and a mentor to learn from. Jimbas honestly had found he had learnt more from Uncle Rich than he suspected Uncle Rich had from him. The ursidain now knew how to open a bottle of 'beer' with another bottle of 'beer' now.

Uncle Rich had been more than welcoming and had ensured Jim that the human was grateful for the guardian's assistance. Not that it seemed it was needed, without exception the human had taken to the stars with ease and a warm smile.  Even when meeting the other races, in most cases he'd been openly welcoming.

There was a bit of a culture clash, his eating habits and what he considered appropriate with regards to weight. To an Ursidain, it was important to keep a high body fat percentage or at least enough muscle to keep the pounds on. It was a mark of success and of readiness of the person. A very common saying amongst the 'bear people' as his human colleague would often call them, was "I'll survive the winter." It meant you were ready and in the best shape you could be.

The human, in contrast, actively avoided taking second helpings. Even when he gave the ursidain serving a wink and a smile, he would decline two ladles of food rather than the assigned one each. It was odd, so very very odd. But when Jim had asked Uncle Rich if he didn't enjoy eating, the human laughed! He gave the far larger alien a knowing look, an elbow to the gut and promised that he'd see what 'good eating' was soon.

Jim was very confused that day. Today however, Uncle Rich had a pep in his step and practically ran to Jim's table before skidding to a stop, with a wide knowing grin.

"Good news! We'll be planet side in the next few hours!"

"That is good news!" Jim paused, scratched a meaty paw against his skull has he thought, before adding; "Why is that good news?"

"My folks have already got everything prepared and are camped out in a field as we speak. We've got permission take the skiff and land almost on top of them." The jolly human declared in a whisper so that no one around could hear them. There was a moment as Jimbas turned that statement over in his head. It didn't make sense. His folks? Other humans?!

Jim looked him over once more; the rough grey fur that sprouted from his chin and head gave him a 'wise' air. Uncle Rich was well respected and often took on the task of resolving personal issues between the crew long before they made their way into the chain of command. It didn't make sense, but starving or not, meeting other humans would be a pleasure and an honour!

"Mmrf... I'll be glad to have dirt under my claws again Uncle, the grating The Galactic Community enjoys on their ships is all well and good for easy repairs, but it's hell on the feet." Jim said, pressing a thick thumb into the black pads of his lower paws. Jim's stomach growled again loudly.

"Ah! I'm glad to hear you're hungry, are you going to make it another hour or two?" Uncle Rich asked with a slap against the pelt on Jimbas's back.

"Mm, it'll be touch and go, but I will do my best friend." Jim replied as he stood, his rotund belly 'popping' clear of the bench he was sat at.

At twelve feet tall, Jimbas towered over his 'Uncle', and with his body's mass, outweighed him by several degrees, but he still felt a deep connection with the human. If this was something that the other humans felt, he understood why they would consider him their 'uncle'. He would make a fine ursidain... if he put on a few pounds.

Hours later, when Jim stepped off the Skiff's ramp he sighed as he felt the dirt compress under him and rise up between his claws. The ursidain flexed his toes with his eyes closed and sighed with content. The breeze carried the smell of meats Jimbas didn't recognise, they were cooking and smelt delicious.

His stomach reminded him of its existence. The huge creature felt a light backhanded swat against the side of his belly from Uncle Rich who strolled past laughing. It took a moment for the ripples across his flab to settle down even with his paws held against himself.

"Common then! I want to show you a 'proper' meal!" Called the human who was being tackled by other humans. The ursidain allowed a subtle eye roll to the human's back, like a human would know a 'proper' meal.

Jimbas expected to be sorely disappointed by the size of everything. He made a point to only nibble, he didn't want to be rude to the humans. The ursidain doubted that even a family of humans could create enough food to satisfy a fully grown ursid-.

His thoughts derailed as he truly focused on the small crowd of similar looking humans. 

They had several coolers opened and a grill larger than some of the fully installed kitchen units Jim had seen in his time amongst the stars. The coolers were near-overflowing with raw meat of various shapes, colours and sorts. The grill was practically groaning under the weight of the meat that was sizzling away on the bars. 

And the smell.

Oh the smell! 

"Hey! Hey! Jim! Ya' drooled on me! God.." Uncle Rich bemoaned, wiping at his shoulder which now sported a dark wet line down his chest, he stomped off towards the family who, on noticing his shirt, began laughing and calling the giant bear over. 

Jimbas was 'subjected' to the first challenge for his stomach that he'd experienced since leaving his home planet. He ended up sat next to an extremely old human who seemed to believe he was looking 'thin' despite never having met the woman before this day. His plate was piled high while the rest of the family tucked into their own meals. 

When he finally saw his plate once more, it was snatched away, refilled and returned with neary a question. 

Eventually a younger member of the extended family, currently nibbling on a sausage skewed on the end of a fork, explained. 

"Uncle Rich sent us a message last month; said you were always hungry. Grandma took that as a challenge."

Every steak, every sausage, every burger, breast and thigh, made the ursidain's jowls drool as a never-ending torrent. He first tried to eat slowly, but the spices, the sauce rubs and salts that were liberally applied left him desperate for another bite, again and again. 

It was evening by the time the bear had to hold up a paw in defeat.

"Please... I beg of.. Mercy." He deferred his pleading to the old crone of the table, who allowed a slight smile to tug at the edge of her mouth. 

Jimbas eventually found himself belching to the delight of the children, flat on his back. The echoes of his powerful expulsion of air caused ripples of the glowing insects to dance up around them. He had to admit discomfort from the children that sat upon his overstuffed belly. Not once in his life had he been overfed before...

An unforeseen outcome occurred thanks to this event. 

Shortly after returning to the ship, Jimbas met up with an ursidain ship, his old ship and crew! His extra inches that were added to his waistline were immediately noted by his 'former' crew. News travelled quickly back to ursidain territories, all the way back to the capital world; Source.

The ursidains had learnt that humans could cook. The race was on, to find more humans!

[nekropsii]

homestuck fandom circa 2012-14 was a nightmare fr. so many big art accs had a nsfw side accs dedicated almost exclusively to incest/pedo ships it was insane... but god forbid you made the striders black

Hell, half of the time shit wasn't even on a side account. Most of the time it wasn't even tagged. Not just as NSFW, but as the other shit that it was. No content warnings, nothing. Sometimes people would deliberately not even tag the ship so you couldn't filter it out without blocking either the main tag or a whole character - like, for example, not tagging BroDave as either "BroDave", "Stridercest", "[CW/TW] Incest", or "[CW/TW] Pedophilia", and instead just tagging it as "Bro Strider", "Dave Strider", and "Homestuck"... So in order to avoid seeing that, you'd have to either filter "Dave Strider", "Bro Strider", or "Homestuck", and that's just not fair.

It's weird when people act like CW/TW tagging has always been a thing that the Proship-type crowd have abided by, like, religiously, and that anyone complaining about shit not being tagged just isn't being careful enough, when... No, that's really not been my experience whatsoever. Hell, there's still untagged incest content in the Homestuck main tags now and then to this day. It's even weirder when people say that tagging incest and pedophilia is "a courtesy that no one has to abide by", and refer to it like a privilege that can easily be taken away, like a toy from a child. Like, god damn, so much for caring about victims, huh? So much for the whole motto about respecting people and their boundaries, right? So much for that defense that "no one can complain because everything is tagged". Man. What the fuck, lol.

At least nowadays you're way, way less likely to get flashbanged with Pedophilic Incest Porn spammed on your dash at random. Fandoms were so egregiously, violently, shamelessly fucking unsafe for kids back in the day. I hate the fact that people are nostalgic for that era - the behavior people were exhibiting was frankly just disgusting, and there was practically no barrier between "adult space" and "all ages space". The way fandoms behaved back then was wildly unchecked and fully fucking dangerous. That history of constantly exposing kids to porn of 13 year olds getting fucked by their adult parents/siblings is not something to be proud of. People should be absolutely ashamed of themselves. This is not a point of pride. So many kids were victimized and traumatized. Just abominable. Nightmare is right. Being a kid in the Homestuck fandom in the early 2010s was terrible.

Purposefully exposing kids to this fucking nightmare pornography is a point of pride, people loved doing it, but god forbid you drew anyone Black, or Fat. God forbid you were Black yourself. God forbid you were Disabled. God forbid you tried to critique the story in any way. God forbid you were Gay, or Trans, or Bi/Pan, or Nonbinary, or anything at all. God forbid you had headcanons that went against the status quo. God forbid you "drew the characters wrong" (e.g. Blonde Vriska). God forbid you "liked the wrong characters" (e.g. Vriska Serket, Mituna Captor). God forbid you "liked characters for the wrong reasons" (e.g. Nepeta Leijon, for being strong, mature, and emotionally intelligent, and Vriska Serket, for any reason at all). God forbid you critique the Fandom's Behavior, or Fanon. God forbid you breathe. God forbid you express any individuality at all. Nightmare dimension. Fuck.

[lingthusiasm]

Lingthusiasm Episode 88: No such thing as the oldest language

It's easy to find claims that certain languages are old or even the oldest, but which one is actually true? Fortunately, there's an easy (though unsatisfying) answer: none of them! Like how humans are all descended from other humans, even though some of us may have longer or shorter family trees found in written records, all human languages are shaped by contact with other languages. We don't even know whether the oldest language(s) was/were spoken or signed, or even whether there was a singular common ancestor language or several.

In this episode, your hosts Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne get enthusiastic about what people mean when we talk about a language as being old. We talk about how classifying languages as old or classical is often a political or cultural decision, how the materials that are used to write a language influence whether it gets preserved (from clay to bark), and how people talk about creoles and signed languages in terms of oldness and newness. And finally, how a language doesn't need to be justified in terms of its age for whether it's interesting or worthy of respect.

Click here for a link to this episode in your podcast player of choice or read the transcript here.

Here are the links mentioned in the episode:

Lingthusiasm episode 'Tracing languages back before recorded history'

'My Big Fat Greek Wedding- Give me any word and I show you the Greek root' on YouTube

Glottolog entry for 'classical'

Wikipedia entry for 'Complaint tablet to Ea-nāṣir'

Wikipedia entry for 'Bath curse tablets'

Wikipedia entry for 'Cuneiform'

Wikipedia entry for 'Mesopotamian writing systems'

Wikipedia entry for 'Home Sign'

Lingthusiasm episode 'Villages, gifs, and children: Researching signed languages in real-world contexts with Lynn Hou'

Wikipedia entry for 'Al-Sayyid Bedouin Sign Language'

Wikipedia entry for 'Kata Kolok' (also known as Benkala Sign Language)

True Biz by Sara Nović on Goodreads

Gretchen's thread about reading True Biz

You can listen to this episode via Lingthusiasm.com, Soundcloud, RSS, Apple Podcasts/iTunes, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. You can also download an mp3 via the Soundcloud page for offline listening.

To receive an email whenever a new episode drops, sign up for the Lingthusiasm mailing list.

You can help keep Lingthusiasm ad-free, get access to bonus content, and more perks by supporting us on Patreon.

Lingthusiasm is on Bluesky, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Mastodon, and Tumblr. Email us at contact [at] lingthusiasm [dot] com

Gretchen is on Bluesky as @GretchenMcC and blogs at All Things Linguistic.

Lauren is on Bluesky as @superlinguo and blogs at Superlinguo.

Lingthusiasm is created by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our senior producer is Claire Gawne, our production editor is Sarah Dopierala, our production assistant is Martha Tsutsui Billins, and our editorial assistant is Jon Kruk. Our music is ‘Ancient City’ by The Triangles.

This episode of Lingthusiasm is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share Alike license (CC 4.0 BY-NC-SA).

[the5thcellar]

The only reason why people are against the perspective of Luke and Nicola having it, it's the internal fat phobia for me. Same thing for the group 'no chemistry' in the series. Anons wouldn't say all that shit about one sided crush from her, if she was indeed a woman with a skinny body, not a mid size one. The thing is she doesn't need it, cause she is ethereal and perfect in her way. She is a beautiful woman. She is gorgeous, while people project much of their own insecurities on her. Luke, though, is just the other typical male celebrity. If they'll ever jump on the train, it will certainly be him asking her out, not her following him. I don't see this woman in her golden retriever stage for anyone. She knows her worth and is sure to be aware of impulsive decisions of his.

OH CLOCK IT OMGGGGGGG. 193829293912% !!!!!!!!!!

I would like this post a hundred times if I could. I've been pretty much silent about the issue of fatphobia in the fandom because the arguments I've witnessed / been involved in on twitter ALWAYS get the same dead end responses - "not everything is fatphobia they just have no chemistry" / "you have to admit that Nicola isn't that attractive it has nothing to do with her weight".

It's LITERALLY fatphobia. Most of the times it's not even internalised - people are literally saying the quiet part out loud by insisting Nicola doesn't look good enough to warrant attraction from a "hot guy" like Luke.

LIKE BE SO FUCKING FR RN OMG ??? I've had to sit through people shipping SO many weird ass pairings that I personally felt were completely absurd - pairings that the mainstream audience ate up just because it was a skinny girl with a hot guy.

(Truth be told - and on a more relevant note - I literally felt like Phoebe and Regé had no chemistry. both of them were so absolutely compelling and gorgeous as individual characters but they didn't work together for me)

Isn't it strange how no one really said much about the previous two Bridgerton pairings where aesthetics were concerned... and were lauding the couples for all having such GREAT chemistry with one another ... but when it came to Luke and Nicola they were all suddenly so insistent that there was no chemistry at all and that their views are completely objective? Nah. Pack it the fuck up. All these people are fatphobic as hell.

What's made it worse is the bloody ozempic obsession that has swept over Hollywood in the past year. Suddenly celebs who used to advocate for body positivity are all skinny - doing a hypocritical 180 on the self love ethos they were preaching.

But anyway that's diving more into social commentary and I don't want to veer too far from the original content on this post.

So 100% yes - a HEFTY MAJORITY of polin antis and lukola antis are blatantly fatphobic. If you cannot imagine Luke Newton can EVER have feelings for Nicola but think him and A are obviously a great fit - you're fatphobic. You can pretend you're objective all you want ... but think about why you're so FUCKING QUICK to defend Antonia and say she'll be together with Luke forever / she's totally his type when 1) she's barely been in the spotlight - she's done no interviews or anything for y'all to even get enough of an idea of her personality to stan her or bat for her 2) y'all don't fucking KNOW his type you just assume it's skinny women because his celeb crush is dua lipa and everyone loves hot and skinny women right? newsflash guys my celeb crushes are Zac Efron and Mads Mikkelsen and HELL YEAH I'd fall over myself to date either of them... but in a fuck marry kill contest I'd still choose to marry Jack Black.

What you think is attractive as a fantasy is not always what you find attractive in a long term partner.

You're here on my page defending Antonia and insisting she's a better fit for Luke not because you know her, or like her, or even because you respect Luke. You're here on my page because you're using her as an excuse to come for Lukola. You're here on my page because you cannot imagine that a fat girl can be together with a "hot man."

Now check that.