#even though by all fucking rights it should be!

[ellecdc]

okay but what about when a puck goes flying wild and hits medic!reader square in the face (talking concussion, wound, blood, bruise, whatever u feel like) and her whole team goes crazy both in terms of protectiveness of her but also confusion bc what do we do without our favourite medic??? (can be in the remus hockey player or pt universe, anything u feel like luv)

is there a bug in my wall? how do you know this is EXACTLY what I've been daydreaming about????? I demand answers! (thank youuuuu for the request)

hockey player!Remus Lupin x team medic!reader who's a real member of the team [2k words]

part 1 | part two | part 3

CW: injury, angry Swedes, writers distaste for her home team (of which she cheers for), Scandinavian's beefing with each other but it's in good fun

Remus was certain the game clock was moving in slow motion, or that whoever was in charge of it forgot to hit play a few times when the play would continue. He needed this game to be over. 

He needed to get you you.

The entire game had been frustratingly slow; both teams scored one goal in the first period, and then nothing happened in the entire second period. A fight broke out at the beginning of the third, but then it seemed like they were back to nothing happening.

That is, until the worst thing happened.

The Leafs were lining up for a goal in the Lion’s zone with a one man advantage due to Fenwick’s tripping penalty. Grönvall, Dearborn, Nadeau, and Potter were on the ice for the penalty kill, blocking shots for Krum with various parts of their bodies that Remus was sure was going to result in wicked bruises.

Matthews had the puck behind the net, sending it up the boards towards Nylander, Nylander passed it to Rielly who quickly tipped it to Marner, Marner passed it back to Matthews who was now in front of the net, back to Marner who went to pass it to Ekman-Larson, but Nylander reached forward with his stick at the last minute; the puck had been travelling too fast and simply tipped off of Nylander’s stick, ricocheting towards the Lion’s bench.

The Lions - who had been watching the puck - ducked. 

You - who had been watching Nadeau who was now limping after blocking a particularly nasty shot with his knee - didn’t see it coming. 

The puck hit you right in the face.

Your head whipped to the side in surprise before you all but fell from where you were standing on the bench. 

The play stopped, but that was on account of the puck being out of play and not on account that a member of the team - the most important member of the team, if you asked Remus - was down. 

“I’m fine.” You hissed at everybody - the players on the bench, the players on the ice, the coaching staff - who had called your name. But you had your face in your hands, were kneeling on the wet rubber floor, and your voice came out pinched.

“Y/N.” Remus barked, suddenly feeling breathless even though he’d not been on the ice, unable to push through the other players on the bench to get to you. 

Lars - the team's PT - placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and bent down beside you, and Remus was struck with how much this looked like how you cared for the players when you met them on the ice. Head low, soft murmurs so that no one else could hear, and a comforting hand. 

“Stay out here for the team, in case they need you.” Your response came muffled from behind your hands, and you quickly stood and took off down the tunnel towards the locker room alone. 

Remus only registered the sound of whistles being blown then, James having clearly chirped at one of the Toronto players, earning him a shove from Rielly before Grönvall, Nylander, Dearborn, and Marner paired off, too.

“That should be a fucking delay of game!” James barked at the ref who was shoving him towards the Lion’s bench (and away from Rielly’s jugular). 

“I heard ya the first time, Potter.” The referee grumbled as James got off the ice. 

“Fan har du glömt hur fan man siktar på det jävla nätet, Nylander?” (translation: did you fucking forget how to aim for the damn net) Remus spat as he watched number 88 skate towards the Toronto bench.

“Kukhuvud.” (translation: dickhead) Nylander muttered back as he stepped off the ice.

“That’s enough, number 10.” The ref barked warningly at Remus. 

Remus did not think that was enough, however, and looked over at the Toronto bench only to find the team medic giving some instruction to their PT before disappearing down their own tunnel, and Remus felt his heart unclench slightly. 

He sincerely hoped he was going to check on you.

Remus wondered if he should do the same.

“Lupin, Black, Trenholm; you’re on.” Coach barked, and Remus tried to breath around his panic as he pushed himself over the boards and lined up for the face off. 

“Loops, the more times the whistle needs to be blown, the longer it’s going to take to get back to the locker room.” James whispered to Remus as they repositioned for another face off.

“Unless you’re trying to get kicked out of the game for a misconduct.” Sirius added breezily from his other side. “Then you’re on the right track.” 

“Do not get any penalties or injuries.” James continued severely. “She cannot help you right now and you’ll be of no help to her.”

Remus let out a groan and playfully shoved his two line mates away from him. “Okay, Cap. Don’t have to be so damn reasonable all the time.” 

“Isn’t he the worst?” Sirius chuckled, though Remus knew he was likely glad James talked Remus down.  

And it was only once Remus stopped going for blood and focused more on ending the fucking game - which required one more goal so as not to go into overtime - did the clock finally start running down. 

Fenwick ended up tipping in a shot from Sirius with only 30 seconds left of the third, and since Remus was getting off and knew he wouldn’t be needed in the last 29 seconds of the game, he stepped off the ice and completely bypassed the bench as he made for the locker room. 

“Y/N?” Remus called as he made it to the empty locker room. “Doc?” 

He checked the exam room which was empty before checking the dark room next.

After knocking gently and without waiting for a response, Remus pushed the door open to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, eyes closed and face pointed to the ceiling as you held an ice pack to your cheek. 

“Baby.” 

“Is the game over?” You asked then, turning to look at him and basically ripping his heart right out of his chest when he noticed the drying tear tracks on your face. 

Before Remus could respond, the sound of the arena horn blared signalling the end of the game. 

“Yes, the game is over.”

“Did we win?”

Remus forced a laugh out as he took off all the equipment he could manage; his gloves, helmet, his jersey, followed by his elbow pads and finally his shoulder pads, leaving him in only his underarmour on his top half. “Of course we won, lovie. Think we were gonna let them get away with that?”

You tried to smile at him, but the deep sigh that left your lungs told him it was just for show.

“My poor girl.” He cooed as he reached for the ice you were holding to your face. “What happened, hm? Let me see.”

You released your hold on the ice pack that Remus gently pulled away to expose your cheek; already mottled and blooming with deep, bruising colours. It had even broken the skin, though it seemed that it was shallow enough to only require a piece of medical tape slapped over it. 

“Den jävlan.” (translation: that fucker) Remus muttered under his breath. “I can’t believe he did this to you.”

Your brows furrowed at Remus’ words but you didn’t get a chance to respond when the sounds from the locker room permeated the dark room. 

“Loops, is doc-” ‘in here?’ was left unsaid when Remus turned to see Sirius standing in the doorway with Isak and Benjy behind him, exposing your form huddled on the ground. 

“Doc.” Benjy whined, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Isak and a reproachful shushing from Sirius. 

“Concussion protocol, Fenny.” Sirius hissed at him, earning him a quiet laugh from you which Remus was eternally grateful for.

“Does anyone need me?” You asked quietly, causing all four boys to shout (albeit quietly) various protests. 

“I think these fuckers can manage to tape up their own jammed fingers for one game, yeah?” Benjy offered. 

“Lars can help, too.” Isak agreed.

“There ya have it doc, your job has been made obsolete!” Sirius cheered. “You’re welcome.” 

“Alright, alright. Get out of here.” Remus grumbled with no real ire, letting out a breath of relief when the sounds from the locker room faded away when the door was shut behind them. 

“Were you looked at?” He asked you then, repositioning the ice to your cheek as he cupped the opposite side of your face with his free hand. 

“Yeah. The Toronto medic checked me out.”

“Concussion?”

“Probably.” 

Remus made a sympathetic tsking sound as he pulled the ice back from your face as if expecting the bruising to have gone down in the last 15 seconds. “I hate this.”

“What? My face?” You tried to tease. 

“No.” Remus denied, shooting you an exasperated look. “What he’s done to your face.” 

“It was a puck, Rem.” You chided. “It happens.”

“But not to you.”

“This is how I feel when you get hurt, you know.” You pointed out to him, even lifting one of your eyebrows expectantly at him.

Remus groaned. “But it’s supposed to happen to me.”

“It’s hockey. Now I’m just a real member of the team.”

Remus tilted his head as he smiled at you. “You’ve always been a member of the team, doc.” He assured you. “The prettiest member, at that.”

You hummed in appreciation as he moved his hand down the column of your neck; touch gentle and reverent as you tilted your head back against the wall.

“Don’t let Black hear you say that.” 

Remus tried to control his laughter, he really did, but he couldn’t help the surprised bark that bubbled up at your words. “You know, I think he may feel bad enough to bestow the title to you.”

“You think?” You asked then, tilting your head into his hand that was holding the ice pack. 

“Positive.” He promised, smiling at you in semi-content silence before tsking pathetically at you again. “My poor sweet girl; what do you need, hm? What can I do?” 

You looked at him for a long moment; eyes darting across his face and pupils perhaps a bit too wide considering what just happened that threatened to make Remus’ protective ire return to its former boil from its current simmer when you came to some decision.

“Can you go shower?”

“Shower?” He asked disbelievingly, noticing you turn somewhat bashful.

“Please?” 

“Yeah, you smell and you’re getting sweat all over our gorgeous medic.” James offered quietly as he slowly closed the door behind him; donned in his team hoodie and a pair of sweats, hair still dripping from the shower he just got out of and his contacts traded for his usual glasses as he moved across the room to sit beside you against the wall. “I’ve got it from here, Loops, but you’ll want to be quick; Grönvall knows doc has a thing for Swedes now, I may not be able to fight him off for long.”

James looked so earnest as he said it that the way his face melted at the sound of your laughter made Remus’ love for his teammate and captain increase tenfold; heart threatening to burst from his chest.

“Okay?” He asked you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then to your uninjured cheek, and then to the tip of your nose before placing one on your lips. “You’ll be okay with Cap? Think you can manage?”

“I’ll do my best.” You responded, your soft smile growing cheeky at the sound of James’ scoff, though your one eye twitched as you winced. “Fuck my face hurts.”

“Get out of here, Loops. You’re making her smile and hurting her face.” James scolded. 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t leave me for Grönvall.” Remus insisted as he pressed one more kiss to your head before he stood and began walking towards the door. “I mean it; the only thing worse than a Norwegian or a Dane is another Swede.”

[beautifullilacsky]

Babygirl. We have come so far.

Today, your thoughts turned around to the past. They shook hands with the way we used to treat ourselves. It started off on a note I'd never expect it to start off of, though; look at that picture of me, the one in the natural pool in Madeira. The first time I looked at it, I was truly surprised and shooketh. "Damn, I look thin", as to which niklas said that that's how I always look, I am, in fact, thin. I didn't count, but I think I asked him at least 3 times. "Do I truly look like this?" He did say that the angle might be making me look extra thin, but yes. Suddenly, it all clicked. How to him, I can seem so fragile. So fragile that he'd always let me walk first on hikes to make sure the pace is okay, always carrying the backpack himself. The way he is scared of hurting me, like, physically. The picture looks like a tiny, thin, and fragile girl. Yeah tbh, she also doesn't look particularly strong. You can see her collarbones. Her ribs. Her shoulders. Tbh, she also looks a bit like a petshop. I do think the gopro did something with the angle there, u can't tell me my head is out of proportion to my tiny body, lol. My point is. Today, I was doubting whether or not I should eat those cookies. After thinking if it'd make me thick, I remembered. I am v thin, more weight wouldn't be so bad.

I never expected to truly feel skinny. Or well, 'too skinny', at least. To think I could gain some weight; it wouldn't be a problem. That is very new to me. After 25 years. Some of those years being spend hating my body and my belly and feeling overweight, even if my teacher even told me that being underweight is dangerous, her eyes seemingly insinuating the obvious.

Yet here I am. This one picture. And tbh, the other pics or videos of this vacation, don't have the same vibe. So I do think it's the angle. And maybe a bit of a fishbowl effect. Either way. It got me thinking. And suddenly I was thinking of it again: boobs. I am also reading 'the 7 husband's of Evelyn Hugo', who seduced men with her big boobs. Somehow, booby enlargement came to my mind again. Why? It's been so long. I have learned to love my boobs, yet this blast of the past came into my head. Actually,.. it is just a thought. It is actually nice. A reminder of where we came from.

How I hated my body in the past. And here I am. Loving every single part of it. Frankly, I love my boobs the way they are. Sure, they might not be super big, but I don't need to hold them when I run or sprint down the stairs. Sure, they are soft in the middle instead of pointy, but I think it's fascinating how certain temperatures, moods and touches can change that. Sure, they don't touch, but at least it also won't create a hot brew in there or trap my clothes inbetween or underneath my boobs. Honestly, they are truly perfect. (Even the little pimple on there right now. Even though I am a bit scared; is it truly a pimple? It should be, it behaves like one for sure.) I can cup one into my hand; it is a perfect fit. As if they were made to be held so gently and smoothly. So filled with love. So, ... true. My hand can touch all of its beautiful creases. They don't overflow my hands, nor do I need to search to find them. Sure, some might have bigger boobs, but not everyone likes that. Some people get attention just because of it. I am truly happy to be able to say that a lot of people just like me for my personality. The looks are for sure also there, but at least my boobs don't get eye-fucked or objectified. I am myself. Perfect the way I am. And I am grateful to be this exact way. I think my boobs are adorable, they are cute, and truly. Truly beautiful. Thanks boobs, for being w me always. And I'm sorry that I didn't see the beauty of you guys for a part of my life. I am happy that I do now, since a while. Love u, boobies. Lol.

Anyhow. I wish to send myself love letters. See this is a loveletter to one of the bodyparts which I was insecure about in the past. Let me show them some true love, which is exactly what they deserve.

[backinmyphase]

Just a heart broke bitch!

Synopsis. Only 24 hours passed since your ex ended it. So why did you find yourself in a club waiting for someone to fuck? Someone like Satoru Gojo?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, college! Gojo, Satoru is down bad and reader doesn't know, overstím, (not mentioned but reader is on the pill), nipple sucking

Word count. 2.2k

A/N. I have never written smut before, so this is more like an experiment hehe

"Shouldn't we at, fuck! hah~ l-least have a first date?"

Gojo had that smug smile on his face as his eyes looked down at your body, inspecting the sweat that was shining from your naked chest. Behind his smugness you could see his back tense up. Just as sweaty as yours. His hair disheveled, standing up in all directions.

"S-shut u-AAAAAAh-" you gasped and couldn't keep the moan in as he made you shudder with his-

"Up."

A little context to this situation you found yourself in. You were in a shit position. A couple of hours before you sat at the table of a cafe trying to grasp what was happening right there.

"What?"

"We should break up." your, well now ex-boyfriend didn't have any readable expression on his face. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean with this?" your body stiffened, no seeable reaction shown.

"I heard about how you acted in high school. About your little adventures with your friends." his look was different from before. It was filled with- "I don't want a girlfriend which is a slut. Who sucked off more men than she kissed."

Your hand gripped your glass of coffee harder. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "You know what I am talking about. Let's just end and forget about this relationship. It was never that good anyway."

And like that he got up and walked away.

And you really wished you got up and gave him a piece of your mind. Tell him how it really was at these parties which you were back then to young to go to. And how the guys you met there knew that. How they used that.

Tell him what kind of entitled asshole he was, to shame you for your old ways of seeking validation.

Back then you were only seventeen. And they were at least twenty one. But you were the filthy slut, who was to wild and surely not loyal enough to be in a relationship, right?

You hated how even now you just swallowed your emotions, your tears and your feeling of self worth.

Because you shouldn't be crying about such an asshole, right? Your friends, well they called themselves that, said not to sulk just search for a new one in the club. They probably told him all about your old stories. Like always when things were going good for you.

They were the only people you had, who stuck by your side. So was it really your fault that you took out your black dress, with your six inch heels?

Yes.

Because even though you wanted to deny it, you liked this boy you had dated. He was your first real relationship, shouldn't that mean something?

But it was never that good anyway, right?

While sitting and sipping champagne in this nightclub, you could already feel your common sense slipping away.

Stupid like back then, because you should know that your friends wouldn't bring you back to your home. Isn't that how you ended up in all these beds? Them doing drugs outside while you were drinking with a guy who will bring you with him, no matter what you really wanted.

You shouldn't trust those people.

It was always just drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex.

And those days were behind you. Right?

You wish you could say that. But then you wouldn't be sitting here, dressed up to forget what was really going through your mind right now. No, they weren't behind you and maybe your ex was right.

You stopped smoking along time ago. You stopped following these things that told you you were only something with them. But today was different.

You took some cigarettes that were given to you from some dude with a devious smile. Not your best move. But right now anything was better than you alone in your head.

"This seat free?"

And then there was this guy like your fate was laughing at you. This guy who had this gorgeous white hair and kind of boyish smile. Like a perfect opportunity to forget tonight.

"Yeah, no worries." you were kind of surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was raspier than usual. Like the smoke already made it's mark.

His tall frame lowered onto the seat next to you, his body facing your direction, instead of the bar. He already had this curious look. "So what brings you here alone?"

You shrugged and gave the bartender a sign as you finished your champagne. "Two more wines, please."

The bartender just nodded and fetched you your first one.

"Woah, slow down." The white haired mans expression changed. "That bad down to get wasted?"

"Yeah, well wouldn't be in a Club if not, or would I?" you looked up at his face, and now was your turn to check him out. Other than the fact that he was tall and he was insanely pretty. That was no problem, in fact it helped. But his almost concerned expression wasn't.

"I guess." He tilted his head a bit. "What's your name?"

Maybe it was the alcohol but for some stupid reason you just told him your name. And he leaned forward and whispered.

"I'm Gojo Satoru."

That wasn't ideal. While you didn't really care about your college people, he had quite a name in your college. But any critical thinking was thrown out of the window since your second shot in the last hour.

Amd as you looked at those eyes that had the for you known look in them you whispered back.

"You want to fuck?"

Yeah, your thinking really did leave an hour ago. Because you swore that you would never be in these surroundings and would never ask such a question a stranger again. But like back then you just wanted to forget.

You didn't remember what came next and how you did end up in this small apartment. All you did know that you were impatient at Gojo because he took too long to get on the bed and fuck you.

Why were there two glasses of wine on this table next to him? Were you talking to him? You couldn't remember.

You just knew that you needed something to keep these thoughts away.

"God, you are driving me crazy." he was on top of you, his hands were everywhere, touching you, heating up your body.

"So beautiful for what?" he mumbled, his naked body (wait when did he get naked? When did you get naked? Oh what does it matter...) was pressed against yours as he kissed your lips.

"I need you now." your arms now around him pressing him closer to your, trying to get your aching pulse down there closer to his.

He laughed and laid his head back. "You are acting like a dick you know that?"

"Well you might as well stick it in."

And that's how you ended up under Satoru Gojo as he bullied his far too big cock inside you.

And you could almost swear he was in love with you, with how he clashed on your teeth so messy, so hot, so starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

"Oh. Fuck. You are so unfair you know that?" he was heavily gasping for air, but still made sure to leave a kiss after every deep thrust inside you.

"Is that what you wanted? No more thoughts because I fuck you so good?" and he went all the way back out of you just to slam his hips back down again.

"fuck!" you almost screamed as he hit that spot inside again, holding onto his back, no more like clawing at his back for dear life. "right t-there, please!"

His head went lower with his trail of kisses until he reached your chest. "No need to beg, pretty."

Your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you panting more.

And he has the nerve to go faster while thrusting inside you. Making you see stars as he kissed your nipples, sucked on them, made out with your chest.

"Satoru!" you moaned, you couldn't do anything else. "You are killing me!"

And even though you were far gone and overstimulated to the moon you could feel his cocky smile at your chest. And he didn't even consider slowing down at your plead, no he more seemed proud of himself making you so fucked out.

How is he fucking you like his life depended on it, couldn't he get tired? Every lasting slap! at your walls had you gasping for air, while he had to close his eyes at how your walls clamped down around him and sucked him back in.

Was this heaven?

"Are you close?" he was out of breath while he stopped sucking for just a second and you would be lying if you said you didn't want him to just continue.

"Yeah, please keep going."

"What did I say about b-begging?" he moaned again. " I'm getting closer myself. Where do you want it?"

And for some dumb reason you screamed-

"Inside!"

And he did. You felt the hot spurt inside you, filling you up, making you feel so full. And yet he didn't stop, no still helped you to reach your high.

And you couldn't help how his frantic hits against your core caused your toes to curl and your back to arch further than ever before as you’re slowly being brought closer to your tense, and awaited edge. “Cumming, cumming!”

"Yeah, just let go for me..." his voice was low amd his face suddenly no longer on your chest, but so close to your own. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

"Ooh... Ah!" it was almost embarrassing how hard you came. But you needed that at this day. Maybe it was far more embarrassing how you were asleep five seconds later.

"Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful..."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Want a glass of water?"

Your eyes were still sticky, the last night not fully slept away. Where were you? This wasn't your own bed.

You sat up, but realizing that your head would spin and push you down before you could steady yourself. And as you looked up you saw him.

And you remembered what had happened yesterday.

"Wouldn't hurt." he answered himself and sat down next to your, heavy, heavy body and somehow lifted your back so you sat. Bringing the water to your lips.

"Drink so you don't throw up on me now."

You just obeyed him and sipped on the cold water, that went down your aching, dry throat so deliciously. You downed it in one sip.

"That's right." his hand went up and down your back soothing. "You and I had maybe too many drinks yesterday."

And then you realized the situation.

You were sitting here. On the bed of a stranger. With still no clothes on. As you drunkenly followed him into his apartment. What was wrong with your brain?

"Thank you." you took the glass from him. "I'm alright now."

He had that soft smile and something inside it punched you inside your gut.

"Alright I'm doing breakfast now." he stood up and looked amused as you hid yourself under his covers. "You can come when you're ready."

And like that he was out the door. Breathing began to be so much easier. You had to find a way out of here. And quickly, before this was becoming more awkward than it should.

What were you thinking yesterday? Fucking Gojo Satoru of all people? You just proved the point of your ex. You really were a slut.

Your things were all around the room, probably disgarded in the act yesterday. Picking them up and dressing yourself in them again felt nasty, like last night was sticking onto you.

You opened the door and looked around to see the exit. And there it was. The wardrobe with your shoes. You tiptoed there, softly.

"Leaving already?"

You turned around to a Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe of the supposed kitchen. He looked amused and had one eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah... I completely forgot about it, but I have some things to do..." you fiddle with your shoes impatiently.

"Alright, should I bring you home?"

"NO!" You cleared your throat. "I mean- there is really no need."

He shrugged. "If you say so. But be safe and drink at home again."

You nodded and with that you were out.

You didn't remember your old one night stands to be that open and smily. No, they just told you how to leave and slept through the morning, while snoring.

Your phone vibrated inside of your bag. And you could see a message of a new number.

Satoru <333

Hey, get home safe!

Oh and we exchanged numbers yesterday, if you don't remember.

You couldn't help but feel guilty, but you left him on read. Why did he message you? Why was he so nice to you like he wanted to get to know you.

How could you tell him, that you just used him as a good fuck?

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── REAP WHAT YOU SOW ┊ LOVE TO LOSE ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: gojo satoru x fem!reader.

꒰ heart to none ﹢ if only he knew karma would come back to bite his ass a few years later. now he misses his ex while she's moved on.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: nothing much!! just moments of him suffering

co-parenting with satoru truly isn't all butterflies. as reserved and respectful as he is (to a selected few), satoru never hesitated to taunt you whenever you mentioned going on dates.

“a date? hmm, good luck with that.”

“if it happens to kick off, good for you, but i don't want him near my child.”

“how exciting! i hope it fails.”

those are just some examples of his behaviour. he's vocal about disliking you and the idea of sharing you. had he known beforehand he'd become slightly possessive, he would've avoided you and relationships altogether.

loving someone his mind hates but his heart longs for isn't an experience he'd wish upon his worst enemy — it's too much. the wretched feeling in his chest deepens whenever he's with the kid; scenarios of you being beside him at that very moment flashes before his eyes, but his pride's too high to crash whatever you're doing.

that doesn't stop him from texting, however. he never had an issue with double—triple texting you. if he had something to say (which is never anything important), he'll say it.

satoru: hey.

satoru: did you forget you have a family at home?

satoru: my child's asleep btw, we had fun all day.

you: my* child. not yours.

satoru: so what am i, an elf on babysitting duties?

you: sure if that's what you want. now stop texting my phone.

satoru: what if i'm dying?

you: i'd pop some champagne. throw something on the grill. light up a cigarette, even.

satoru: you don't even like cigarettes.

you: exactly. now bye i'll be there for six.

yeah, there's no doubt that you'll never entertain him again. he, too, wouldn't entertain himself if he was in your position. sure, he was an ass in the relationship but— you're both older and wiser. maybe you can put the differences aside and come together? a flat no is what you'd answer.

satoru doesn't even hear from you often; most of your activity reports come from your child who excitedly tells their father the details, wishing he was there.

“you guys had fun. i wish i was there too, bub.”

a sentimental tone settled in his voice. he's suffering the consequences of his actions, and he desperately needs you to help him through it.

just like old times: you'd be there for him, going along with whatever he needed to calm down. whether it's wanting to be in you or on you— as long as your arms were wrapped around him.

but it's all a memory now. a bitter one.

do you show your vulnerable side to the guys you date, too? do you hold them the way you held him? do they even know what you like? do they know you the way he knows you?

jealousy, regret, longing— everything mixes in his mind. his stomach aches. it feels as though his insides are hollow.

he adores your child. they look mostly like him, but the personality stems from you. the attitude, tantrums, even the way they hold things — it's all you. he guesses the kid's observed you and eventually picked up your habits. satoru relates; after all, he still has some of your habits he picked up.

as the clock ticks on, his fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone. somehow, he found himself in your pinned chat— debating whether he should text or not. he's been typing and deleting for the past ten minutes. unless you're not on the app, there's no way you didn't notice the ‘typing...’ under his contact name.

satoru: i've been thinking.

(message deleted)

satoru: fuck your date let's get back together.

(message deleted)

satoru: or whatever you're doing right now. let me apologize — it's been years. our baby's four now.

(message deleted)

satoru: hey.

you: what's with these deleted messages?

you: are you okay?

he wonders. is he okay? would you come over if he said no? are you going to be mad if he re-sent what the deleted messages said?

satoru: uhhh yeah. everything's fine.

satoru: i'm bored that's why.

satoru: you should totally come over.

you: no.

you: talk to you later.

satoru: please? i'm serious.

you: fine.

satoru: might as well spend the night.

(message deleted)

satoru: thanks.

(message delivered)

“well fuck...” he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. he doesn't have anything to say nor do with you. actually, he does — he has quite a few, but he wouldn't push your buttons. he'd love to, but the chances of him receiving a slap is high.

[gothgrampa]

Like yeah… young cis het men deserve love…but the problem is way too many of them are just pissed they can’t go around groping, beating, cheating, and r*ping there way though life while getting paid more than everyone else and saying whatever hateful shit they want— like every generation of men before them.

Men aren’t statistically more depressed than ever because everyone hates them, they’re depressed because they have been taught they should be treated as superior and have confused subservience with love. They’ve been taught they should be able to take whatever they want, and they think this is love. They’re taught love is transactional. Men are susceptible to alt-right bs because they don’t know how to value relationships based on mutual respect and unconditional love, even when it is given to them.

But being loved by someone means acknowledging when you are wrong, leaving space for your loved ones to express their authentic feelings, taking accountability for your actions, and continually working to be worthy of the love you receive. Yes, we all need and deserve unconditional love, but loving and being loved unconditionally is WORK.

The problem is afab and gender non-conforming folks are inundated for birth with the message “love is putting other’s before yourself” while amab folks and cis men are raised with “love is other people putting your needs first.”

Like if you think you are treated like “like the scum of the earth” for you “immutable traits” because you are a cis man PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE put on a dress from the thrift store, walk through Home Depot for 30 minutes, and see how people treat you.

Now imagine that dress on your body is all that’s keeping you from killing yourself. Imagine a world in which people only see you as a political piñata, a funny and thing to bash and brake and forget about.

Imagine you are so hated, that you are murdered, and the cops don’t fucking care. No one even knows your name.

LGBTQ people don’t have to imagine. This is reality. This has been reality, for generations of queer people and practically every minority for that matter. We fight to survive, we fight to live in peace. We fight to let our immutable traits shine, even when it gets us killed.

I have given so much love, patience, understanding, and compassion to so many men in my life, just for them to turn around and abuse me.

So Idk what the answer is, but I know it’s a lot more complicated than “be nicer to men they’re insecure :(“

And if that made you uncomfy, read it and read it again and then go read the pdf of Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinburg— it’s free, it’s the past, and unfortunately, it’s the future. https://www.lesliefeinberg.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Stone-Butch-Blues-by-Leslie-Feinberg.pdf

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[scuderiahalf]

(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

.

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

[rvp32]

Hi I love the possessive Ive headcannon can you please do a possessive otp 8 snsd please

Taeyeon

Taeyeon is not the most jealous one from SNSD. She does get jealous but she knows you belong to her. But if she ever finds a woman who gets too close to you and overly touchy, Be ready because she will be by your side and you will get a kiss, one that isn't innocent but filled with passion and jealousy.

Tiffany

She's beyond possessive, she's obsessed with you and won't leave your side for a single second. Nothing will ever separate her from you and if someone does they are going to be in serious trouble, their career might be finished. If someone tries to get close to you she will spend any amount of money or time to either get rid of her from your life. You will not have a single idea about how possessive she is, in your eyes, she's innocent and perfect

Sunny

A weird hypocrite, she loves the attention that she gets from men but hates it when a woman tries to do to you what she does to other men. But she won't ever mention it publicly or even ever tell you, her way of being possessive is after you get home she is going to ride you and fuck you till you are almost in pain and begging to stop. She will edge you and make you beg and worship her.

Yuri

She's definitely possessive of you and you know that very well. She's very vocal about it. Saying things like "Let that bitch touch you one more time and you will be begging to touch me, understood." Or "If you want to act so dense, maybe I should do the same to you the next time you want to fuck the pussy you love so much." If a girl ever tries to touch you in front of her, expect Yuri to retaliate and probably even slap the woman right then and there. She doesn't care about what others think.

Hyoyeon

She is the least possessive one, though she trusts you enough to know that you only love her and won't even think about trying to ever cheat on her with another woman because she knows you could find someone who will satisfy you as much as she can. If she finds you with a woman too long, expect a simple message like "washroom, now!" And you will drop everything you are doing to follow her to the washroom and there you will eat her pussy out as an apology. If you were too naughty maybe she would step on your cock with her heels.

Sooyoung

Definitely the most possessive one in SNSD. She will make it publicly known that you belong to her. She would have you wear a necklace with her name on it. It won't be a cheap necklace either. Her name would be spelled out in Saphiers on a platinum base. If a woman is stupid enough to not notice the necklace and still tries to flirt with you. Sooyoung will interrupt you by walking in between the both of you and kissing you, the kiss is just a little peck and an excuse for her to get really close to you and whisper "You belong to me, everything about you belongs to me, even these," Sooyoung says before grabbing your balls and giving them a tight squeeze.

Yoona

First of all, any woman trying to compete with Yoona in terms of beauty and seduction is stupid. There is quite literally no way that Yoona will lose and that is even more true in your eyes. Yoona is possessive but not public about it, but don't expect her to sit still and not do anything when some bitch tries to get too close to you. She will make sure that bitch knows who you belong to but she does it so elegantly, "Hi, I am Yoona, y/n's one and only wife. Honey, you should have introduced me to this beautiful older woman." It is such a backhanded compliment, to others it might seem normal but to a woman, it is nothing but an insult and a warning. Once you get home expect to be attacked with kisses, scratches, and hickeys all over your body. What's worse is she won't let you cover them up.

Seohyun

The innocent but dangerous woman, She is very possessive of you, she won't even let you get a chance to talk to another woman. So much so that she wouldn't mind renting out a massive property where you can everything and won't have to leave. Only male workers, not a single female other than Seohyun. She has a leash on you and you don't even care. If by any miracle you end up even talking to another woman, you will be punished, hard. The kind where you will be locked in a room with her and all she does is edge and tease you. No cumming, your hands and legs tied up. She uses everything she has at her disposal, fleshlight, her pussy, tits, ass, even her armpit but just as you are about to cum all contact is lost. She will ensure you are completely soft before starting again.

[theinfinitedivides]

wi papa look a thing there for me. awa.

prefacing this with a PSA that i'm going to try and keep short but basically regardless of anything i say here let me make it known that i do believe he should apologize. whether or not he's still actively saying that word in 2024 it is something he's used in the past even if he isn't performing said play anymore/saying things like that so flippantly. granted if he does apologize there's always going to be a section of fandom that's like 'he only apologized bc he got caught' yes?????????? that's what always happens????????? lbr you're not going to get on IG and announce you killed your ex two decades ago and you'll be turning yourself in when there's an entire true crime community in the depths of the internet who will dig up the cold case + the suspiciously convenient alibi anyway without you lifting a finger. politicians who get called out for blackface in college do not go around telling people they did blackface in college. celebrities who were homophobic on this hellsite in high school back in the early 10s before they realized they were gay are not going to let you know what their handle was. this is how the world works.

that being said i must confess i caught wind of the stirrings of this a bit early bc during the clusterfuck that was the Jam vs Zamasian RPF poll (i did not go in the notes. rancid ass shit) someone had taken a screenshot of a reblog made as a 'gotcha' to Zamasian voters by implying that they were anti-Black for voting for a ship featuring an actor that said the n-word in a play he hasn't performed for several decades since, with a short taped example that the general public was not going to know how to find unless they were on a mission. i poked around, saw a couple hints here and there that implied that the clip actually existed, marked that down for future ref and went about my business. disappointing? sure. run of the mill especially among people his age in the industry from that time period who are perceived to benefit from white privilege? absolutely. the former bird identified app dragging all of this back into the light (including the interview with Chris Rock. which i have not seen though there's no way it was within the last few years for AMC to still hire Eric if they had seen it. correct me if i'm wrong pls) is unexpected but tracks for the fandom on there.

generally i don't believe in cancelling someone for things they said or did more than ten years ago if they are no longer the same person they were back then. i don't believe Jacob or Assad or any one of the staff of color who may have been working behind the scenes would have agreed to continue interacting with Eric if he had the same attitude as he did when he first wrote and performed the play. i don't believe his Black comedian niece would continue to talk about him and share photos with him if he was calling her or the Black side of her family the n-word. i am willing to give the 'Eric Bogosian n-word' reply tweet he reportedly made before deleting it shortly after the brief benefit of the doubt bc it was 1. supposedly under someone else's tweet talking about the play incident and 2. i cannot count how many times i have accidently commented/almost posted something on here or YouTube or Reddit or ao3 bc i was on mobile and once the keyboard's open the app/browser flips the fuck out and puts the search bar and the comment box too close together. now if his ass shows up and shows out and stands ten toes down while he's currently on time-out or doesn't address any of this we're dealing with a different story. if more examples of him acting like this come out i'll drop him faster than you can call the election it will be that serious.

anyway for now i'm choosing to keep an eye on this while acknowledging that us Black folks do have the right to be upset and pissed as fuck. we deal with enough racism/microaggressions in fandom spaces as it is we definitely don't need new ones, and we don't need them from the past career choice of the main cast of a show a lot of us enjoy. amen

[unnounblr]

Thinking about it more though. I mean, I don't see how vowing to have a republican in her cabinet and wheeling 90 year old Dick fucking Cheney on stage did anything but hurt, but as far as Gaza goes.

Like, the DNC didn't allow any of the Palestinian protestors or activists to get on stage as speakers, and I think that was a mistake, ultimately.

But, like, I know there are people on the Left who object to even Bernie saying that Israel has a right to exist and defend itself against Hamas, and I'm not sure how many of the 14 million who voted for Biden but didn't vote for Kamala take that stance?

Looking over the texts of her speeches, for the most part, Harris's stance on Gaza was "Israel had a right to defend themselves after October 7th, but they went too far, the U.S. has to work with Israel to negotiate a ceasefire, return the hostages, and bring humanitarian aid to Gaza". Paraphrasing, but that's what Harris said on the topic multiple times.

And. I know a lot of people on the left don't like how both-sidesy it is, that Israel isn't willing to negotiate with Hamas, that Israel is the aggressor, that Hamas is a resistance group, that Israel was harming Gaza with the security check points and apartheid and the illegal West Bank settlements before October 7th. And.

I mean, I think it would have been great if she had said a word about the illegal settlements, and suggested that Israel should abide by international law. Criticism of Israel and the way it has responded and acted is very obviously more than warranted

But the thing is, the United States of America is in an alliance with Israel, and has treaties and accords with Israel. Part of the U.S. constitution is that, along with the constitution itself, any treaties the U.S.A. enters into are the Supreme Law of the Land.

Like, that's why the U.S. never became part of the ICC, or adopted the convention on the rights of the child, or other human rights resolutions and treaties. Because they would be extremely legally binding, on the level of the constitution itself. And Americans didn't want to obey those laws.

But the U.S.A.'s treaty with Israel means that, legally, the U.S.A. has to come to Israel's defense when Israel is under threat. Other parts of U.S. law do require the U.S. to withhold military aid from regimes that do war crimes and human rights violations, (which, I mean, with the U.S.'s history I don't know if that's ever been enforced, the U.S. are the ones who put countless dictators into power) but, those laws arent in the constitution, a treaty overrides them. So, legally, when Israel is attacked, like on October 7th, the U.S. is required to do something to come to Israel's aid and ensure Israel's existence.

The Biden administration did start withholding some weapons from Israel this year, but it was clearly too little, too late. For the election and for Gaza both. And after they had already sent thousands of weapons before that.

On the flipside, some of the more progressive democrats in congress ended up losing their primaries for being too critical of Israel, and. I mean, not only would all the fanatical Christians who think Israel needs to exist to end the world join together and vote republican if someone actually did run an anti-Israel campaign. I think a lot of Jewish people, even left-leaning ones like Bernie, would object to the idea of a state where 6 million Jewish people live suddenly not existing?

Like, the more I think about it, and look at everything involved. I am increasingly less certain about what Biden and especially Harris could even have done, with the Gaza situation.

Especially since. And I admit this may be conspiratorial. Mossad and Israeli intelligence supposedly got reports about the October 7th attack beforehand. And Netanyahu's government specifically withdrew security forces from the area, but let the music festival and holiday continue. And all along, while Biden was asking Netanyahu for a ceasefire, pausing some shipments of some weapons, trying to get humanitarian aid in by making new ports. Trump was on Truth social, and apparently even calling Netanyahu privately, telling him to continue.

I dunno, part of me thinks Netanyahu was never going to stop, no matter what Biden said or did, if he thought continuing improved his chances of getting his buddy Trump back instead.

Is she genuinely losing?! How are the democrats so good at losing

[feroluce]

Oh my gosh the way the Pop-Up Shop event ended and what it hinted at that's going on rn, and what it might imply about what's in store for the next time we see Sampo, I'm so excited AAAAAAA

Because it seems it really IS our Sampo, and whereas before I was absolutely delighted by the thought that he was possibly getting fucked with by some outside influence, and that was why he was saying such strange things... There's nothing quite like that going on here. There's no memetic virus messing with his head. There's no imposter, no possession, no nothing.

Just Sampo, and the ominous, all-consuming dread that hangs over his head like a guillotine, as he willingly walks right into what he is sure is a trap. ♡

Because this event was weird right off the bat, yeah? Sampo invites us in on a business deal that won't make him any money? The hell???

And I was just waiting on pins and needles for it to make sense, and oh, I was not disappointed at all. Because I've got a nice meta post about it over here, but Sampo actually DOESN'T make a lot of money most of the time- but he does always get something out of his dealings. He works for favors and good will and networking, but never for nothing. And it was the same here!

Sampo didn't make any money with this little business venture because that wasn't what he needed from it. That was never his goal to begin with. He just needed something entertaining.

Sampo has the key to get into the tavern's basement where Sparkle has been keeping his mask for him, but he still needs to be let into the front door of the tavern itself. The fun stories he got from this event were his entry fee. He leaves at the end because he's probably already on his way to Epsilon, where the World's End Tavern should be.

So that explains part of what was so strange this event. It's the rest of his ooc tendencies that have me like foaming at the mouth though because AAAAAAAAAA

There's long been hints of...some? kind of strain between Sampo and the rest of the Masked Fools. Like it starts all the way back in Belobog's main quest with the big infamous fourth-wall breaking sequence, where Sampo talks some shit.

And it continues in the Aetherium Wars event, where we finally get the confirmation that Sampo is a Masked Fool and even get to see him interact with Giovanni, one of his brethren! And where Sampo talks more shit. He also leaves the trailblazer a warning against Sparkle, who they hadn't met yet, and probably the Masked Fools in general.

And for some strange reason, it seems to be popular fanon that Sampo like. Talks a lot of shit? Or is rude in general? Like I feel like I see a lot of jokes about if Hook says a cuss word, it was probably his fault. But Sampo is actually pretty polite with everyone. I think the only time we really see him be harsh is when he has to set some hard boundaries in the museum event. Otherwise, he conducts himself like a model friendly businessman. Like he IS super shady and slimy, but he's still polite about it. I'm pretty sure the only time he actually talks any shit, and so bluntly, is about the Masked Fools or Epsilon as a whole. He really seems to have some sort of beef with them.

There's also his hilarious relationship with Sparkle, which I'm including for consideration because we don't know how common people like her are in the Masked Fools, so she might represent how Sampo interacts with a lot of them. ...But I'm pretty sure Sampo's grudge with her runs deeper than that anyway jdksajfdkljas

She's so funny I hope she fucks with him more FJDKSJAKD

Anyway, the point is, Sampo doesn't seem to see eye-to-eye with a lot of the rest of Aha's followers. And it was never hinted at before the pop-up shop event, but now I'm wondering if it might be like. An actual dangerous sort of situation.

Because during those brief packaging sequences, you get some. Pretty wild text dropped on you. There was actually a really cool explanation for it by another user already! But basically, all of the phrases are more fourth-wall breakage. They're mostly in-game achievements...except for one.

"This must be a trap create"

We never get to see the rest of the phrase. Just "This must be a trap create."

That is the only one we don't have an explanation for yet, at least as far as I know.

AN EDIT: Thank you to @/kittaykattz for this one, because it looks like someone DID find the source of this line. Unfortunately, it only came up in my search after I looked for the full phrase. I couldn't find it on the wiki before orz And yet this somehow does NOT make it any less ominous ajfdklsjkl The full phrase is "This must be a trap created by a Masked Fool!" and it comes from another in-game achievement, "Boxes and Ladders." Which is really cool, because I had figured the last line must be something from Penacony, since it was the only area not represented so far. So in that way, it fits perfectly with the rest of the text. Now we have one achievement from every area of the game, which fits with the theme that Sampo has been following the Astral Express, the trailblazer specifically. It's the way that it doesn't fit that's the weird part though. Because the rest of the lines that come from in-game achievements are all titles; that's why they were so much easier to find. For some reason, Hoyo saw fit to single this one out. They didn't use a title. They specifically chose the line about falling into a trap set by a Masked Fool, a trap with seemingly no way out, where one's only choice is to take a leap of faith and pray to make it out ok in the end.

Love that. Absolutely love that. That's so fucking tasty, I will be daydreaming for days on end now about Sampo finding himself in a horrible situation with no way out where all he can do is make a desperate attempt and pray to whatever might listen (probably not Aha fjaksljdk) that he'll survive it WHEEEEEE

Because Sampo talks so strangely throughout the whole event, but it gets worse day by day, morose and morbid and dreading and sometimes even almost like he's warning the trailblazer against something about to happen.

I've already lovingly discussed it in an analysis about Sampo's name (alias included) but like. There certainly are some fun connections there. The Sampo of myth was smashed and lost to the sea. Poisson was flooded. Brueghel died suddenly and left a final painting of a storm at sea unfinished.

The Masked Fools are referred to with imagery of water and the sea. And frequently so.

And so I do wonder what Sampo knows, and what he's expecting to happen when he gets to that tavern at the end of the world. If maybe he thinks he's walking right into a trap, and is doing it willingly, doing it anyway, because, well.

Belobog is on the line.

And Sampo has already proven he seems so ready to do whatever it takes to protect it.

[carmenberzattosgf]

i don’t like spanking too much but…you mentioned belt?

lip is all for it. he’s literally 😏😁 super stoked. tells you flat out that he’ll do it, hey, right now even? you’re not busy, right? he’s definitely the type to tease, drag the belt gently over your ass before snapping it against you. is willing to be rough, groans at the sight of your tears. obviously does a quick check in, cooing at you softly and pecking your face before he’s satisfied that you’re okay and wanna continue. makes you cum twice afterward and cuddles you close, praising you and making sure you did actually like it. bro bullies you the next day when you can’t sit comfortably (might as well sit in his lap now, right? maybe even higher up? he can be your chair, let him make up for it <3)

carmen? immediate 😳🤨 no. he doesn’t mind spanking, but a belt seems so…unkind. but he’s down to try anything once, especially when you beg so nicely. plans it meticulously. is far more gentle—you have to ask for him to go a bit harder. he rubs over the mark to soothe the sting, soft hands and soft kisses, mutters of ‘you okay? color?’ Very Often. ends up liking it more than he thought and lowkey feels ashamed until you assure him it’s okay. makes you cum as many times as you can afterwards to make up for being so ‘mean’. has cream on DECK and is so gentle in the aftercare -💫

Okay because you’re so right and I wanna talk about it.

I’ve always felt like Lip leans more to the side of mean dom. It just—fits him. So when you bring up the belt…he’s instantly down for it.

After getting all the boundaries and safe words in place, he has you drape yourself over the bed, lying on your stomach. He lets you keep your shirt on, not wanting you to feel too exposed. Your ass is completely bare to him, though.

You shudder when you hear the sound of Lip undoing his belt, and jolt when he makes the leather slap together. He runs the cold metal of the belt buckle over your ass, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “You still wanna do this?” he asks, voice soft and gentle.

“Mhm.”

“I need words, baby. Gotta hear your words.”

“Want it, Lip—please,” you beg. Lip responds by bringing the leather of his belt down hard on your ass. A sharp whimper leaves your mouth at the sting. Another spank from the belt comes down a moment later with just as much strength as the first one. The feeling makes a warm heat grow in your belly.

“Can see you squeezing your thighs together—should have known you’d like something like this,” Lip remarks with a chuckle. The next couple hits from the leather are lighter in comparison, giving you a moment of a break. The red welts appearing on your skin give Lip a raging hard on. He has to palm himself to relieve some pressure inbetween spanks.

It doesn’t take very long for tears to start running down your face. The pain from the belt sets fire to your skin, and to your core. “Lip—“

He pauses for a moment, leaning down over your body to trail kisses from your neck to behind your ear. “M’here—you’re so fucking gorgeous like this—fuck.” He resumes kissing all over your face, praises pouring from his lips. “J’st a couple more. You can be a good girl and take a few more for me, okay?”

Once he’s finished with the belt, Lip flips your over and sinks to his knees to eat you out. He’s not satisfied until you’ve cummed all over his face at least twice. He only stops when you physically push his face away.

He’s so soft with you afterwards, cleaning you up and treating your skin. Lip likes to hold you in his arms after something like this to make sure you’re completely okay. In all honesty, he has you cockwarm him afterwards. It’s not about getting off for him, he just wants to be as close to you as possible.

Now sweetie Carmy is a MAJOR soft/pleasure dom. He enjoys a giving you a spank every once and awhile with his hand, but he’s scared as hell to try a belt. You have to beg for him to agree to it.

He’s so gentle, not having the heart to put any force behind the belt when it makes contact with your ass. “H-harder, Carm—please.”

He obliges, finally putting effort behind the leather, and you whimper loudly at the strike. Instantly, Carmy takes his hand and rubs softly at the skin. He leans down to press kisses to your cheek. “Sweetheart? You still okay? Can you tell me your color?”

“Green—green. Please. Want more,” you whine desperately.

Afterwards… Carmy makes you cum so many times you fall into sub space from overstimulation. You’re vaguely aware of him cleaning you up and applying cream and ointment on the fresh welts on your backside. He lays you on his chest so you can fall asleep without putting pressure on your ass.

[snailchimera]

Speaking as someone who was able and willing to get the fuck out of Florida, it was the right thing to do and I don't regret it, but it fucking hurts. I miss my home. I miss my shitty toxic eutrophic bayou and my lizard neighbors and liveoaks with Spanish moss and palmettos and honeysuckle that is probably invasive and tiny stubborn canebrakes and sandy patches of scrub. I miss bugs, which is not a thing I would have predicted saying, not because I dislike bugs but because it never occurred to me that other places were so bug-deficient. I miss the cluster of left-adjacent people ranging from peace-and-love Unitarians to the serious union folks or the people running a grocery co-op that actually functioned as a grocery store normal people could buy food at to the folks fixed on one specific problem like housing or healthcare to the anarchists and the socialists and the queer community spread through all of the above and That One Communist whose sole purpose in life seemed to be hawking a newspaper, all clustered together because you can't afford to splinter into two billion different factions in a conservative town full of gun nuts, and honestly probably being a more functional group because of it. I miss streets and buildings that used to be fixtures in my life, landmarks that told me exactly where I was. I miss stupid small things like the art on my library card, the sound of a road, an absolutely objectively terrible park that was always full of glass and spent fireworks the day after New Years or the 4th of July. I miss my best friend from middle/high school (though we're still in touch), and at least a couple members of my family, and my dad's weird friend who wrote absolutely godawful political poetry and hand painted beautiful cards for holidays and once tried to steal my pet turtles to turn them loose in the nearby river (which would have been bad as they were a nonnative species).

I have missed multiple funerals I should have been at and I don't think I'm ever really going to get closure for that.

I've been living up north for over a decade now and the air still tastes wrong. The seasonal shifts here are beautiful, but in the way an alien planet is. It is literally physically impossible to acquire a decent orange or orange juice that tastes like it's actually meant to be a consumable foodstuff here, and I didn't even grow up in orange growing country so it's not like my standards are fresh-picked-today high.

And I didn't really leave a community behind the way OP would have to. I was always pretty isolated, all things considered.

I'm out of Florida, and also alive in general, because an internet friend took me in and inexplicably hasn't kicked me out yet. That's not a viable plan for most people. And, although I am spending more money than I can really afford to renew a passport I've never used, it's very unlikely I'd be able to find sanctuary in another country with my disability, spotty work history, and lack of money. Even if I could, there are people I can't leave behind.

I do think you should get a passport if you can. If you have the money, help other people get one too. It's useful documentation, and if it comes down to it... a Hail Mary escape plan is still better than waiting to die. But the people brave enough to keep fighting for their homes aren't stupid, and the places they love are worth fighting for. The people who can't leave are not acceptable losses. And most red states are red because of deeply entrenched systems of disenfranchisement and suppression.

Just care about people.

I see a lot of posts along the lines of, "people stay in Florida because they can't afford to leave," in reference to both climate disasters and Republican politicians.

I don't see enough, "because it's their home, and leaving under such conditions is traumatic, even if they can afford to drop everything and leave."

I wish people would stop telling me "just move" when I talk about the problems I want to fix. I wish people would stop telling me "it's a sunk cost, you should just leave" when I try to encourage political participation and community involvement. I wish people would stop asking me "lmao why" when I say that I love Florida. I wish people would stop asking me if I "need help leaving" when I have never declared any intention to do so, and have been quite vocal about how happy I was to move back to Florida after a long time away.

I know this land, I know this community, I have deep roots here. I'm tired of everyone telling me to rip them up and "just leave" when I'm trying so goddamn fucking hard to try and help make things better.

You might just see a gross swamp full of rednecks, but I see the sides you refuse to. I see the humanity, I see the communities banding together, I see the beauty, I see the hope. I see the climate activists advocating for our people and our environment, engineering new ways to mitigate hurricanes and update our infrastructure. I see the groups fighting for immigrant rights, racial justice and reparations, affordable housing, organized labor, abortion access, and disability justice. I see the queer organizations carving out space and helping trans people access healthcare. I see people fighting DeSantis tooth and goddamn nail at every single opportunity. I see the reasons to keep fighting for this place that everyone else has written off as a cheap punchline.

I wish y'all would stop ignoring us when there isn't a deadly hurricane or a Florida Man headline, and I wish y'all would stop treating Floridians like we're either helpless victims or horrible bigots with zero in-between.

Some of us are doing our damnedest to make things better. Some of us love Florida with every fiber of our being. Some of us think of Florida, and before anything else, we think "that's home."

It feels pretty fucking bad to constantly see people say your home should be abandoned. It feels pretty fucking bad when the entire rest of the world refuses to see your home as anything but a joke or a problem.

Florida is beautiful. Florida is my home. I'm going to fight for it no matter how many people reading this think I should just pack up and abandon it.

[danikamariewrites]

Falling

Cassian x reader

Note: sorry for my absence, I’ve been busy and unmotivated the last weeks. I don’t like to talk about politics but I want you all to know that I’m very unhappy with the election and it’s upset me. I really have nothing else to say because quite frankly im speechless. Know that my blog is a safe space and you can reach out to me any time if you want to vent because I will vent right there with you.

On a slightly better note, this has motivated me to keep being creative. Writing and being in a creative space has truly kept me going over the last few years and I refuse to stop. Mainly because if I stop I think I’ll just give up. And I’m not fucking giving up because this has been the best distraction. Sorry for the long note but I just wanted to get that out there and know you’re not alone in your frustration. ❤️

Warnings: some angst

Cassian was exhausted. He knew he was when he looked into your bright eyes as you excitedly waited for him to pick you up to fly home and couldn’t bring himself to lift you.

His mind wasn’t in the right place to enjoy the closeness of you in his arms. You always deserved him at a hundred percent, especially when your life was in his hands. Not while he was still actively thinking about Devlon getting in his face about their disagreement.

Even now, only minutes away from home, Cassian was still clenching his jaw, ruminating about the words Devlon spat at him.

Cassian was pissed that Devlon ruined his day. He had big plans for you that included a dinner reservation and him finally telling you how he feels about you. Only took him two years to gain the courage to decide he would tell you how in love with you he is. And now he’s too in his head to even fathom saying “I’m in love with you y/n.”

Azriel flying next to him with you in his arms wasn’t helping his mood either. Every time he heard you and Az talk or laugh his jealousy grew. It was his own fault though.

Flying over the Sidra the House of Wind finally comes into view. The monstrous house on the cliff had relief flowing through Cassian. Almost home, Cassian tells himself over and over.

Looking over at you and Azriel he sees a smile bloom on your face as you look down at the glittering water, you point out the fish jumping from the surface, making ripples that you can see from way up in the sky. The sight of your joy eases Cassian’s anger.

A gust of wind hits them hard enough to knock Az and Cass off balance. Without your added weight Cassian has no problem balancing himself out, controlling his wings on instinct.

Your scream has him pivoting against the gust, whipping his head in time to see Az lose balance as you tumble from his arms.

Azriel tries to dive but the wind fights against his wings. Cassian wastes no time to dive for you. Tucking his wings in as tight as he possibly can, he free falls with his hands reaching out for you.

You don’t stop screaming until Cassian grabs on to you, pulling you flush to his chest. You cling to Cassian, wrapping your arms tight around his neck.

“I got you,” he murmurs in your ear. “I got you, baby, it’s okay.”

Without looking back at Azriel he flys hard for the House. Cassian should check on his brother, he feels guilty not doing so. But the love of his life just tumbled from his brother's arms and he couldn’t care less if Az was in the Sidra right now or behind him.

Landing on the balcony closest to the bedrooms Cassian readjusts you in his hold. He can feel you trembling as he rushes to get you in a comfortable place.

Cassian kicks your door hard, rushing over to your bed. Gently placing you down he pulls away to see you staring off, a blank look on your face and teeth digging into your bottom lip.

He backs away to get you a change of clothes until you grip his arms tighter, letting out a small whimper. “Don’t,” you plead. Cassian wraps you in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

The two of you sit like that for a long, long time. Once your trembling stops you slightly lean away from Cassian, shaking out your arms and rolling your neck.

His heart breaks at the sight of fear still lingering in your eyes. Cassian slowly brings his hands up to gently cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re ok, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.” You nod, molding yourself into Cassian’s body.

“Thank you for catching me.” You whisper. Cassian squeezes you tighter to his chest. “I’ll always catch you, y/n. Always.” The fierceness in his tone sends a chill down your spine.

You won’t let Cassian leave you, even long after the sun sets. The only time Cass left was to get you dinner and to change into his pajamas. Once you’re asleep Cassian can’t find it in himself to leave you.

Tomorrow, he decided. Cassian will tell you everything tomorrow.

[the-tenth-arcanum]

I can't believe trump is winning the elections...

[mustainegf]

high sex with kirk. just being his best friend but you get so horny from the weed that you just HAVE to fuck. need that NEOWWW

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA?? AND SOOO KIRK

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ¹⁹⁸⁶

We were lounging on the old couch in Kirk's basement, the joint being passed back and forth. The room was dark except for the lava lamp, its slow hypnotic glow casting a dim light on everything. Everything was seeming a little funky, like the weed was hitting us a little bit harder than it usually did. My head was foggy in the right way, my body felt heavy, it was sinking deeper into the cushions.

Kirk took a long drag, his eyes half closed. "Man, this stuff is good," he managed to say in a slow, lazy tone. He passed the joint back to me and I hit it, feeling the smoke burn slightly before I let it out in a soft, hazy cloud.

I turned to him, and something caught my eye. He shifted in his seat, almost uncomfortably. It took a moment for me to realize what was going on, and then when I did, I couldn't help but laugh. "Kirk, are you…?" I laughed, motioning to the very obvious bulge in his black jeans.

He groaned, tossing his head back onto the couch. "Don't," he muttered while covering his face with his hand. I was already laughing, that uncontrollable, high pitched giggle that comes when you're way too high and everything feels way more hilarious than it should be.

"I can't help it!" I sputtered, giggling. "It's just there!" I waved my hand in a general direction at his lap, and he groaned again, his cheeks flushing a little. "What's got you all worked up, huh?" I teased, nudging his arm.

He was groaning, but at the same time he was smiling, the corners of his mouth twitching up, he couldn't help but find it kind of funny too. "It's the weed," he mumbled. "It always makes me… you know."

I raised an eyebrow. "Horny?" I asked, barely suppressing another laugh. He nodded, clearly embarrassed which just made it funnier.

"Well," I said, smiling wryly, "what are you gonna do about it? 'Cause it doesn't seem like it's going anywhere." I relaxed back, my head resting against the back of the couch.

Kirk chuckled, running a hand through his messy black hair. "I don't know," he said, shifting uncomfortably again. "Just trying to, like, think of other stuff."

I looked at him, then at the bulge, which wasn't very clearly going away. "You sure about that?" I asked, grinning. I could see frustration on his face, but it was rather comical, in a weird way.

I couldn't stop myself. Without even thinking about it, I reached over and pressed down on his crotch, right on top of his jeans with a giggle. "Maybe 'little Kirk' just needs some help going down," I laughed.

The second my hand touched, though, he let out this low, almost helpless moan. I froze a second, my eyes wide. "Whoa," I said, laughing but also a little surprised. "Did that actually feel good?"

He bit his lip, half lidded eyes on mine. "You have no idea," he said, voice rougher now, almost desperate. "I told you, I'm too fucking high for this shit.

I blinked, teasing still but intrigued a little now. "So you're saying this isn't going away, huh?" I asked, pressing down again, this time harder. He moaned again; his hips shifted slightly under my hand.

I should have stopped there. Should've let it go, made another joke, moved on. Something about the way he reacted stirred something inside me. Maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the way he looked at me-his eyes dark, needy. And I felt my body spark up, a burn started low in my belly.

"Well, what are you gunna do about it?" I asked, my voice lower now, maybe not quite as teasing.

Kirk looked at me, his eyes hot. "I can't… it's not just gonna go away," he growled, his voice low. "Not without, you know…" His eyes flashed to my lips and my pulse sped up.

My mouth went dry, but I forced a smile, keeping it light despite the fact that I was beginning to feel it, too. "What, you need me to fix it for you?" I teased, but there was heat behind my words now.

He didn't say a word, but the glint in his eye said it all. And before I could really think about what I was really doing, I moved, scrambling on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands came up to rest on my hips, like he’d been waiting to do so.

"This is probably a terrible idea," I said, but I was already tilting forward, my lips grabbing his.

"Probably," he agreed, but then his mouth was on mine, and the rest of the world went away.

It was a sloppy kiss, all fire and need. His hands slipped up underneath my T shirt, his calloused fingertips grazing my skin and shooting shivers down my spine. I could feel how hard he was beneath me, the rigid length of his arousal pressing against me through his jeans. I rocked down on him, and he groaned into my mouth, his grasp on my hips clenching tighter.

I pulled back just far enough to tug my shirt over my head, flinging it aside before reaching for his. He helped me, tugging it off in one smooth tug. His chest was hot to mine, heart pounding just as hard as mine was.

I leaned down, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck, while my hands fumbled with the button of his jeans. "Let's see if we can help 'little Kirk' out," I whispered, smirking against his skin.

He laughed breathlessly, but it degenerated into a groan when I finally succeeded in unzipping his jeans, sliding my hand inside. His cock was hot and pulsing, and I couldn't help but stroke him slowly, teasingly.

"Fuck," he hissed, hips bucking up into my hand. "You're killing me.”

I smiled, enjoying the control I had over him in this instant. But I was just as riled up now, my own body aching with need. "Then let's make it better," I said, getting up briefly to remove my jeans and underwear, just as he did his.

When we were both naked, I climbed back onto his lap, his cock pressing insistently against my entrance. I hesitated for just a second, meeting his eyes, and everything felt more comfortable, more real. But then he kissed me again, and I felt myself fall a little bit in love.

I sank down onto him slowly, both of us groaning at the sensation. He filled me completely and for a moment we just stayed like that, savoring the feeling. Then I started to move, rolling my hips in slow, steady motions, and he matched my pumps, his hands clamping onto my hips and guiding me up and down on his length.

It was messy, sloppy, but in the best of ways. We were frantic, our bodies slick with sweat. I rode him quick, my nails digging into his shoulders while his tip rubbed my G spot relentlessly.

Truthfully, it didn’t take either of us that long. The weed, combined with everything going on, just had both of us on the edge.

The tension built and built within my body, tighter and tighter until I just could not hold it back anymore. I came with a soft cry, my whole body trembling around him, and a few moments later, he followed, his hips jerking up into mine as he released inside me. Warm spurts heated me from the inside.

We stayed that way for a moment, both of us breathing hard, still tied in each other's arms. Then I fell against his chest, and he wrapped himself around me, holding me tight as we came down from the high.

"Well," I said after a minute, my voice still tired, "that was…"

"Fucking crazy," he completed, and we both erupted into laughter, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room.

We were high, tangled up in each other, but now the calm was in, that lazy satisfaction after the storm. I burrowed my face into his neck, feeling his heartbeat start to slow down beneath my cheek.

"I guess weed really does make you horny," I said, smirking against his skin.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. "Apparently.".

We spent some time just lying there, cuddling, our bodies still buzzing from the high, but much more relaxed now. No trace of awkwardness whatsoever, no weirdness-just two of us, laughing, holding each other, absolutely comfortable in the aftermath of everything.

Finally, I drew back far enough to take a good look at him, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. "So… round two?" I joked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned. "Maybe after a nap.

[cometconmain]

Not addressing anyone here. Just adding my recent experiences and thoughts on this concept.

Way too many people genuinely act like you don't get to be upset with someone trying to treat your human rights like pineapple on pizza. I fully agree. It's shitty as fuck. Bigots get to say the most vile things and everyone they're targeting has to treat them with fucking kid gloves and it's fucking bullshit. You have no obligation to be kind.

However, it is an unfortunate fact that most people (who are still reachable) learn and change when they're faced with calm challenges to their position, vs getting their head bitten off which is more likely to drive them into the arms of extremist groups who take advantage of their stress and confusion to pull them in. I've been trying to develop the patience and strength lately to build tolerance of lighter bigotry so I can talk with the person long enough to plant some seeds. I see it as less 'be kind' and more "is this person an actual lost cause or are they just parroting whatever because they've never had to think in their life about any beliefs they hold and only ever get to interact with a select handful of flavours of humanity? Can I reach them, even a little, then let them go and see what happens?"

I had a 2 hour conversation with a guy the other day who "doesn't believe in" climate change, thinks Trump is morally 'neutral' and that maybe segregating Trans and POC people at the Olympics is the answer to whether or not Trans people should be allowed to compete.

Stupid and fucked up? 300%.

He also held a lot of normal progressive views and was queer. Cognitive dissonance galore in this man. (He also somehow genuinely believes it's the Democrats rolling back queer rights and was surprised when I explained to him how the Supreme Court works and that they're the ones attacking human rights because the Court is currently controlled by Republicans, not Democrats. He was actually surprised so I'm concerned where the fuck he's getting his information from, damn. It's always so much 'fun' trying to understand and then explain American politics as an Australian to other Australians. XD )

I actually ended up managing to challenge the majority of the fucked up bullshit he spouted in a way that seemed to actually make him think. I could see and hear the way he was talking was someone with a very limited pool of information not knowing any better and he even literally said "I've never gotten to talk to someone like you before" and had a generally positive demeanour toward me the entire time (while internally I was going yuck yuck yuck yuck hold on deep breaths remember you had really shitty beliefs ten years ago and even recently and probably still have some you have to work on that make other people go yuck yuck yuck yuck hold on just let him hear himself and hear you and let it germinate).

A year ago I would have walked away and also stopped engaging with him entirely.

But this time I experimented with a different angle and because I put the effort in to assume ignorance and offer him active listening I think I gave him a lot to chew on. I could literally see him thinking about things in a way you only get when someone is actively listening back (compared to how they behave and speak when their only goal is to clobber and belittle and bad faith 'debate' you into the ground about your own goddamn human rights).

People are scared, people are ignorant, people lack education and a wide enough pool of experience to engage with to develop their own critical thought and self-improvement, and bad faith actors are always taking full advantage of this, ESPECIALLY at the political and law making level.

Please don't get me wrong though. None of this is to say everyone has to suddenly stand there for 2 hours getting slammed with rancid takes about their own identity, culture, race, sexuality or whatever else the person is casually stomping all over with their 'opinions' because they've never experienced what it's like to be on the receiving end of their own bullcrap. And if you're personally part of whatever group is being stomped on then yeah, if you don't have the energy to educate every random bigot while being expected to have no negative responses to their behaviour, then absolutely walk away. And anyone insisting you have some kind of obligation to take that to the face just to teach some random who thinks so little of you can fuck off.

But if you do have the capability - be it because you don't personally experience the thing but know how to help educate about it, or have enough patience left to try with this person because you think they're worth your effort - and you won't be putting yourself in danger by standing up to them, then please do give it a try occasionally. Even if all it does is help to remind you that bigots aren't a monolith and can hold the most progressive views available then turn around and slap you with 'ok but maybe we should segregate sports again' while so damn sure that's somehow not racist as fuck because they genuinely believe racism is when you look at brown skin and deny service or something and that's the full extent of education they have on what it is. (And that type of limited education extends to their understanding of other marginalised demographics too of course). Re-humanising the enemy is always going to be helpful for combating them, so you can try thinking of it like that too if you do decide you want to try with someone like this and need something to help you get through the conversation long enough to plant some seeds and hope they grow. Better to add people to our ranks than to 4Chan's.

Many people have helped me break away from dangerous subtler shitty beliefs and mentalities throughout my life simply by taking me through my paces on it and patiently challenging and then letting me grow, and it's made me a much better person. I'm so grateful to all of them and I'm trying to learn the skills to pass that on. I hope other people out there who have the energy to try this see this and give it a go when they can. A multi-faceted approach is usually the best way to go, I think, and there are enough of us out here that not everyone has to do this, but there are some who can (especially if they have relevant societal privileges to help shield them) and will and that can have a huge impact on changing the tide. (Just pick your battles carefully and stay safe.)

“Be kind to each other even if you disagree about politics”

Actually no, I’ll tell you to fuck off if you tell me I shouldn’t have rights. Hope this helps!