#it’s so bad it makes me proud of the difference

[rafesthroatbaby]

That bodyguard of yours…” …. “I haven’t seen him in a minute.”

„Let’s talk about good decisions, Rafe. Her? I'm questioning you and your fuckin’ taste level.“

i swear she is me ?!! cause that’s what I’d throw at him as well 😭😭 look at her than look at ME?!! the fuckkkkk go bleach your eyes Loool

„Keep talkin’ back and see what the fuck happens.”

„Next time you try this shit, just know I’ll chase you down. Next time you roll your fuckin’ eyes at me, I’ll pin you where you stand. You can’t keep doin’ this shit without consequences.”

„I’ll let you cum tonight. But I swear if this shit happens again. M’not… Not until you’re at my hotel door beggin’ and cryin’ for my dick like a whore.”

„Completely mocking you and the mess he made of his favorite girl. “You’re kiddin’ me?” He teases as he rests his hands on the bed, lowering himself to your ear, his chest brushing against your bare back. “Safeword?”

ok this action alone would send me over the edge all over 😵‍💫😮‍💨 him mocking you ? Different level of HOTTTT & no safeword daddy 😌 yours however to use

“I said ‘spread your shit,’” he shouts, making you flinch. “What’s it gonna take for you to listen? Huh?”

„I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Daddy,” he mocks your fucked-out voice again. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,”

Omggg another one 😋 like don’t stop lolll 🥲 the way I would beg him is unreal

if y’all haven’t read this already- start y’all day right with some bodyguard!rafe 💦 first of all I love their dynamic SO MUCH !! he became one of my favs 🤤 need him fucking bad, he’s so sexy 🤭 like I’d have the exact same bratty behavior, prob even worse cause look at the outcome.. DELICIOUS. the way he put her in place is everything & that gun work hellooo 🪦 and also… look at my baby doing the devils work 👅 ended 24‘ with a loud bang 👏🏼 I’m so proud of you cause you’ve been eating it up since the day I came across your page, couldn’t be more grateful 💕

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣’𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟’ 𝔼𝕧𝕖 - ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕆𝕟𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕥

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, angst, fighting, rough touch, kissing, degradation, name calling, possessive!rafe, jealous!reader, protective!rafe, rough oral male receiving, gunplay, spanking, overstim, cum licking (floor), choking, fingering, pussy slapping, dirty talk, teasing, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, creampie, ownership kink, brat taming, no safe words

from this au if you want to read about the night they got together 🌹

📖 the reader has been secretly dating her bodyguard. During her NYE performance, she learned she’s not the only one he crossed the line with.

⭐ unedited ⭐

Reader's POV:

The backstage area is a whirlwind of costumes, stagehands, producers, and backup dancers. You eye yourself in the mirror, body hugged in a glittering black bodysuit with thousands of sequins that catch every stray light beam.

You should be basking in the excitement of a childhood dream come true—after all, millions of viewers are about to watch you perform a duet on New Year's Rockin’ Eve. But the second she walked inside, any excitement you might have felt went out the window.

Bella Dean.

She's the diva you're supposed to share the big closing number with: petite, curvy, absolutely stunning. Her talent is almost as big as her ego.

Bella’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “Look at you, baby,” she coos, sashaying up to you, flashing a smile that makes your stomach flip. “You okay? You look a little sick?” She asks, pouting her lip, her tone almost demeaning; clearly commenting on your appearance and not the state of your health–just being a fuckin’ bitch.

You fake a smile as your pulse spikes. “Sick?” You ask through a breathy laugh as you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Ill? Not feeling well? Under the weather? You don’t know what sick is?” She asks, returning a nasty laugh.

“I feel just fine. Thanks for your concern,” you reply, your face twisting slightly.

"Of course," she purrs. "I think my makeup girl’s around here somewhere… Maybe it’s just because you look a little dull. I’m sure she has some highlighter or something to add a little sparkle,” she adds a little extra sweetness to her voice at the end, her cruelty making you feel like you could lose your mind as you try to remain professional. Your fingers tighten around your microphone as you try to focus on what’s coming next instead of the 5’2” nightmare beside you.

She steps out just before your cue, hitting the stage first, looking back at you with a wink and a smug smile you wish you could hurl your mic at her face.

You take a calming breath, reminding yourself that this will be a few minutes. You have a whole night ahead of you to look forward to. A night with him… Rafe stands off to the side, looking devilishly handsome in his all-black suit. He folds his arms over his broad chest, looking into the crowd, eyes trailing the space as usual.

You turn back to Bella, your eyes finding hers, her ruby-red lips curling into a wicked smile, making a knot of unease tighten in your belly. She quirks her eyebrow, stepping closer; too close for your liking. “That bodyguard of yours…” she says, tipping her head toward Rafe, making her platinum blonde curls bounce. “I haven’t seen him in a minute.”

You fiddle with your microphone, trying to seem as unbothered as possible, but she sees right through you.

“Rafe?” She chirps, making your eyebrows shoot up as his name leaves her lips effortlessly. “Mhmm… Rafey. Ugh, don’t tell me he didn’t mention me,” she tosses her hair to the side. “I’m sure he had an interview. That wasn’t brought up?”

You purse your lips, look out toward the crowd, and try to distract yourself.

“Don’t tell anyone, but we did get a little cozy on my last tour,” she leans in, giddily gossiping like she’s talking to a friend, but we both know what she’s doing. How unprofessional of me, right?” she chides as she smiles out to the crowd, giving them her million-dollar smile before blowing them a kiss.

You feel your body tremble as the adrenaline of the night and this admittance courses through your veins. Rafe did mention he’d once made a mistake by getting involved with a past client, but he never mentioned a name–her name. You swallow hard, clearing the lump in your throat as your mind starts spinning out, thinking of what the two must have done behind closed doors.

“That doesn’t sound like Rafe,” you assure.

“So you didn’t know. Ouch.” She flicks her gaze toward him again. “Doesn’t sound like you’re working the man to his full potential.”

You bite your cheek, lips tightening as you try to hold back your outburst. “Well, if you are and you don’t kiss and tell, just know he has a habit of getting too close. I just want you to be careful,” she pouts again, her voice like nails on a fucking chalkboard as the band starts to play around you.

And with that, she glides away, leaving you breathless and seething as she walks to the front of the stage. Your cheeks burn as you glance at Rafe from the wings. He catches your eyes with a concerned expression–the man no doubt reading your emotion like a book. Even though he has no idea what the fuck just happened, he knows something’s off with you. His eyebrows pinch together, beautiful features hardening.

Bella and Rafe? I can’t fuckin’ handle this right now.

The crowd roars excitedly as Bella’s voice pours out of the speakers. Your heart bangs with the opening beats of the song. You look toward the camera as it pans to you, forcing a smile. Your voice wavers as your anxiety gets the better of you–Bella looking toward the wings at Rafe as well, painting a picture of what their exchanges might have looked like in the past, her stealing little glances at him from center stage instead of you.

The lights sweep over you, and the first note leaves your lips. Your muscles tighten as the pitch wavers, just a hair off, but it’s enough for Bella to shoot a look back at you. Your stomach aches, heartbreaking, as you feel yourself starting to fumble while Bella shines. You push harder–the melodies leaving your lips sounding anything but natural.

Bella steps forward, delivering her verse perfectly, making the crowd scream. Her eyes twinkle as she passes you, making your blood boil. You lose track of the music for a split second, coming in a beat too late, making the blonde smirk in your peripheral vision. Fucking cunt.

You take a deep breath with the guitar break, straining to gather your emotions, trying to remind yourself of the night and how you’ll hate yourself if you let her ruin it for you. You turn toward her, melting your voices together in perfect harmony. The tension between you is thick, but it doesn’t read that way–the crowd, eating up every second of the duet.

The music cuts and the crowd goes wild. Bella moves toward you for the planned hug, but you step away and wave to the crowd. As she waves, you feel her arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in for a half-hug. Bella leans in, looking up at you, feigning concern. “You were a bit shaky. Are you okay?”

“Fuck off,” you hiss through a gritted smile to the crowd.

She gasps surprisedly before resting her head on your shoulder. “Don’t be upset, babes. Let me know if you are ever in the market for a new bodyguard. I always find the best ones,” she winks. “Have a happy New Year.”

You resist the urge to run, walking off the stage gracefully before storming toward your manager, taking your purse off her hands before snapping your focus to Rafe. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was Bella you messed around with, huh?” You hiss, quiet enough to meet his ears only as you glare at him.

“This isn’t the right place,” he warns as he looks through you even still, eyes scanning the crowd.

“No, Rafe,” you snap. “This is the perfect fucking place. I just found out about your little fling from Bella. Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Rafe steps closer, looking you in the eyes, making you draw a little breath. “Not now.”

“Forget it,” you scoff, and before he can stop you, you flee the scene, disappearing into the thick crowd of backstage traffic. You walk through the double doors, looking to the left at the long line of dressing rooms before taking a risk, pushing through the side door.

The winter wind whips as you walk through the tight, dark alley, heels clicking against the asphalt with each step as you head toward the main street. Fans and paparazzi push in around you, yelling your name, but you keep your head down, pushing ahead.

You look down the block, knowing your hotel is close, but how close? You shove through the thick crowd, still waiting to get into the venue. The middle of the road is packed, too, with a barrage of people gathered, waiting for the ball to drop. You lift your eyes for a moment. Halfway there… You cross your arms tighter around your waist, trying to keep warm while holding yourself back from answering the phone vibrating like crazy in your purse.

Silence.

You sigh in relief as you walk into the swanky downtown hotel. The noise behind you falls away. The lobby's hush and glamor starkly contrast what’s happening on the other side of the revolving door—velvet chairs, marble floors, and the soft golden glow of chandeliers hanging overhead.

You draw a deep breath and blow it out slowly, looking to your left. Your head hangs with mental exhaustion as you step toward the hotel bar, pushing through the door before heading toward the rail.

You order your drink, asking for a double, hearing your voice tremble with anger and stress. You stare at your reflection in the barback's mirror, your makeup perfectly done, stage outfit on; your hairstyle to perfection, but that was just a facade. You felt far from perfect underneath–completely broken.

Rafe seems so poised and professional. It was so hard to break his icy exterior…

As childish as it sounds, you felt special. He seemed so untouchable that when you were able to break through, you felt like maybe there was something different about you.

He didn’t seem like someone who would sleep with his clients, and now you can’t help but think just how many people he had took care of like he was taking care of you.

Bella… What if it wasn’t special, though? What if it was just a one-time thing–a fling, and Bella was trying to get in your head? You grab your drink, lifting it to your lips, downing half of it fast, letting it sear your throat, trying to numb your thoughts.

She wanted this to happen. You hated yourself for letting her affect you the way she did. The truth is, she saw you fall apart in front of her, catching every missed step and note; each misstep was a win for her.

The bar is quiet, the low roar of the New Year’s celebration humming outside. The soft jazz piano swells in the background, paired with the soft conversations of the guests dressed to the nines. No one bats an eye at your arrival; no one asks for anything from you, letting you sit for a moment and breathe.

“Sir!” You hear the shrill call of someone from the lobby. A sudden commotion on the other side of the door pulls you out of your peace as Rafe storms in. He looks down at his phone, eyes scanning from left to right. Your heart falls as he zeros in on you, his nostrils flaring with anger, contrasting with the look of relief in his striking blue eyes.

He sucks his teeth, holding himself back from cursing you out on sight. His Gucci suit jacket is half undone, his toffee-colored hair mussed, and his sharp jaw is set in a straight line. He looks fuckin’ angry, completely winded, like he's been fighting through thick crowds, going to Hell and back to get to you. Good. Let him be angry. Why should I have to suffer alone?

Rafe makes a beeline for you, his long legs crossing the room in a few strides. The bartender walks over, asking how he can serve him, his voice quickly fading as he sees the look in Rafe’s eyes. Your bodyguard thumbs through his wallet, slapping $100 on the counter before grabbing your arm.

“We’re leaving,” he hisses, tugging you off the barstool. You gasp, your unfinished drink sloshing onto the floor as he steers you back toward the exit.

You yank your arm back, disregarding the curious glances around you, shooting daggers at your brooding bodyguard. “You don’t get to boss me around right now,” you hiss as you fight him off, but it only makes his fingers twist a little tighter around your arm.

“Once wasn’t enough?” He snarls.

“Spare me the lecture,” you sass. “M’not in the mood for you —fuckin’ drama queen.”

Rafe leans in, his warm breath hitting your skin as he pulls you toward the elevator. “Do you have any fucking idea how reckless that was? Runnin’ out there alone on the busiest night of the year? In the busiest city? Are you insane? And you’re alone-”

“Did I look alone?” You snap as you lift what’s left of your drink. “Didn’t pour this shit myself,” you laugh tauntingly before shooting it back.

He scoffs annoyedly as his grip on you tightens even more. “So you’d rather run away and have somethin’ awful happen to you, risk my whole fuckin’ career than talk to me about what you found out?”

“Correct,” you clip. “Now, let go of me.”

“Let’s make a deal, tough girl. You can get outta my fuckin’ grip, then you can go. I happen to like you... I’m not some insane stalker who wants to wear your fuckin’ skin. Aight? It ain’t safe out there for you, and for some reason, you think that your best option is to run,” he hisses as he bangs his fist against the up button.

The elevator door glides shut, leaving the two of you alone. You both stand next to each other, seething for different reasons. Rafe tosses your arm away when you fight against him one last time, making you push out an exaggerated breath.

Elevator music fills the space around you, so light and cheery it’s almost satirical at the moment. You stand side to side with your bodyguard, arms crossed over your chests, both of you waiting for the other to break.

“You have no right-”

“Run off again, and I swear to fuckin’ Christ,” he cuts you off.

“You wouldn't be mad? Really?”

“‘Course I would be. I'd be fuckin’ irritate, but I’d wait ‘til I got back to the hotel to say somethin’ like a fuckin’ adult. Not run away like a goddamn child-”

“I’m not-”

“A child,” he cuts you short, finishing your sentence as he turns toward you, his voice low and lethal. “You’re not a fuckin’ kid. Aight? You’re a grown-ass woman. Start actin’ like it before you get yourself hurt.”

You turn toward his chest, too, and look up into his eyes, not backing down. “You told me you once crossed a line with a client but never said it was her. She wasn't even mentioned on your resume, Rafe. Why was that?” You ask breathily, letting your defiance and disgust bleed through.

“That shit doesn't change the fact that that was a bad decision, princess,” he returns your same tone, that term of endearment he loves to use coming out as anything but endearing.

“Let’s talk about good decisions, Rafe. Her? I'm questioning you and your fuckin’ taste level. Bella is a cunt. It would have been nice to know this before sharing the stage with her so I could have been prepared for her bullshit instead of being blindsided and ruining that moment for myself.”

“Ruining your moment? What the hell are you talking about?” He asks in disbelief. “Your performance was perfect.”

“The fuck it was, Rafe,” you scoff as you step out of the elevator without him. “Your performance was perfect,” you mock him. “Bella’s performance was perfect, Rafe… And tomorrow, when there’s a review on Rolling Stone, maybe you’ll get it through your thick fuckin’ head.”

Rafe runs his fingers through his hair; frustration etched into every line on his handsome face. “Baby,” he mumbles as he softens his tone and closes the space between you and him. “I screwed up by not tellin’ you before tonight. M’sorry. But you can’t keep runnin’ off when you’re mad. I’m your bodyguard; I have to protect you whether you like me or not.”

You wave your keycard in front of the door handle, rolling your eyes at his apology, if you could even call it that. “Well, Rafe… Maybe you should be better at protecting your secrets,” you grumble, going to shut the door behind you, but Rafe clutches it tight, pushing against you with minimal effort, making you growl in frustration. You toss your clutch onto the sofa, kick off your heels in protest, and rip off your earrings for dramatic effect.

"You lied by omission, Rafe. You said you 'made a mistake' once with a client but never told me it was Bella. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?”

He sighs as he strips himself of his jacket, tossing it off before loosening his tie. “Jesus Christ, baby. I was gonna tell you. Just not right before you had to perform with her."

"How considerate,” you breathe, your sarcasm palpable, making his cheeks flush with anger.

“Bella is toxic-”

“No shit,” you laugh.

“She'll do anythin’ to get under your skin-” he starts.

“Jesus, Rafe! Tell me something I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“I screwed up with her, yes… But do you know how long ago that was? That was at the start of my career. I was still tryin’ to figure shit out. I was young-”

“So, is this a serial thing for you, Cameron? Or am I an exception?” You ask, with a lifted brow as you pop open a bottle of De Venoge Louis, eyes shifting over to him. “Just another one of your favorite pop stars?”

“Enough,” he groans tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he paces the room. “You know that's not how I see you… You gotta stop.”

“And how do you see me?” You ask. “I know how I see you…” You mutter, foregoing the glasses altogether, lifting the bottle to your lips instead.

“Not gonna tell you how I feel right now.”

“What the hell does that mean,” you laugh, dribbling champagne on your chin as you look up at him, fluttering your lashes in confusion.

“Because you’re actin’ irrational. This is not the time.”

“Stop telling me that it’s not the time, Rafe. Oh my god,” you whine, voice brimming with frustration.

“I get that you’re upset,” he scolds. “But runnin’ off into the city alone after a show and putting yourself at risk like that over Bella Dean was fuckin’ stupid, regardless, and you know that. Come back here… And lose your shit. Hell, you’re yellin’ at me right fuckin’ now. Only difference is you’re safe.”

“Sorry for makin’ you do your job, Rafe.”

He nods his head, a look in his eyes like he’s going absolutely insane. He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexed, looking like it could tear the fabric apart. “N’to be clear. Chasin’ you is my job?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t at the job interview… Not quite sure what your scope of work was, but I assume the details of your job didn’t include sleepin’ with me either-”

“You’re begging for trouble, you know that?” He shouts, his loud voice hitting your chest hard, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

“M’Terrified,” you giggle, trying to hide your nervousness as your heart rate starts to climb. His eyes narrow on yours–a mix of anger and something darker.

He walks over, looking down at you perched on the velvet lounge chair. You gasp as his hand comes around your throat, his grip tightening and tightening. He lifts you to your feet, pulling you chest to chest. “Keep talkin’ back and see what the fuck happens.”

You look at him with dead eyes, seemingly unimpressed by his threats, letting your eyes roll in the back of your head. Rafe tightens his grip a little more, making you sputter out a breath.

“Keep rollin’ those eyes at me, too, while we’re at it,” he growls. “You think I won’t give you a lesson?”

Adam's apple bobs in his throat, lip snarling as you refuse to submit. Rafe yanks you forward, crushing his lips against yours in a deep, desperate kiss. You go to shove him away, but his fingers find your hair, twisting into the strands, tugging you closer, forcing you in place. The air leaves your lungs as he shoves you into the wall, never breaking your kiss.

When he finally tears his lips away, you’re both breathless, chests heaving, longing for more.

“You’re fuckin’ impossible,” he rasps, blue eyes blazing with lust, his rasp voice taut and hoarse. “Run off, you don’t fuckin’ listen, and then you come back here and pick stupid fuckin’ fights, spoutin’ off shit we both know ain’t true.”

“Maybe you deserve it, Rafe. Did you ever think about that-” Rafe silences you with another kiss–more longing and possessive than the last. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into your lips.

Rafe breaks away again, leaving you chasing his lips. He rests his forehead against yours, the two of you panting into each other, desperate for more.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispers, voice vibrating with tension. “Next time you try this shit, just know I’ll chase you down. Next time you roll your fuckin’ eyes at me, I’ll pin you where you stand. You can’t keep doin’ this shit without consequences.”

Your heart pounds in your ears, pussy pulsing as you listen to all of his threats– his words honestly having the opposite effect. Looks like he’s the one begging for trouble.

“Fuckin’ do it, Rafe,” you dare him, smiling against his lips, “you think I'm scared of you?"

“Think you're braver than you should be, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, Rafey? You gonna punish me?” You ask.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” he says, firm and cold, making goosebumps spread across your body. He leans in, pinning you against the wall, pressing his big body into you. Rafe kisses along your neck, teeth scraping your ear. “Don’t even think we have a safe word. Do you?” He asks, and you can hear that crooked smile in his voice.

“N-No,” you whisper, trying to recall, but you honestly don’t think you could at this moment, the way his body surrounds you, his rich cologne clouding your senses completely.

“Shit, baby… Guess you’re outta luck.” You gasp as he picks you up off your feet, slinging your body over his shoulder. “Maybe if you start behaving-” Crack! He slaps your upper thigh harshly, making you scream. “Maybe we can think of one together, hmm?”

Rafe throws you down on the bed, making the last bit of air in your lungs escape. He strips himself out of his button-down shirt, quickly working himself out of his pants before tossing his belt and gun onto the bed.

“Wh-What are you gonna do with those?” You ask, hearing your voice tremble.

Rafe clears the space between you, lowering his hands on the mattress as you look wide-eyed at him.

“Aww, princess… You know me. I love leavin’ out little details,” he smiles wickedly.

Rafe grabs the front of your bodysuit, tearing the delicate material open effortlessly, sending rhinestones and beads flying onto the bed and the hardwood floor as he tears away the custom piece without batting an eye. He pulls the material down your thighs, tossing it to the floor before grabbing your hips, manhandling you to your belly on the bed, your ass in the air, and your feet on the floor.

“FUCK!” You scream as his big hand comes down, slapping your bare ass, leaving behind a tingling sensation. Before you can even react, he does it a second time, then a third, making tears pool in your eyes and wetting the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“The fuck was that, tough girl?” He asks through a breathless laugh.

“I-I… Fuck you,” you whimper, trying to stand strong. Rafe grabs a fistful of hair, yanking you back, his head lowered to match your eyes.

“Fuck me? You told me to do this shit, baby girl… You’re the boss. I’m just doin’ my job.” Rafe uses his hold on your hair to push your face into the mattress, pushing two thick fingers into your soaked core. “Listen up, princess,” Rafe huffs. “You deserve this. I’m not gonna put up with this shit, aight? You’re lucky I’m even fuckin’ touchin’ you.” Rafe pumps his fingers in your pussy, finger-fucking you mercilessly as you try your best to wiggle away. “Stop squirmin’,” he chides. “Hands behind your fuckin’ back.”

The second you do, Rafe grips the against your lower back, the palm of his hand clapping against your ass as he fingers stroke your G-spot. Your thighs start to tremble, pussy tightening around his big fingers. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moan.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” He taunts.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Think it’ll fix that little attitude of yours?”

“Yes, fuck!” You cry.

“I’m not sure it will…” Rafe sighs sadly. “I’ll let you cum tonight. But I swear if this shit happens again. M’not… Not until you’re at my hotel door beggin’ and cryin’ for my dick like a whore.” Rafe pulls his hands out of your soaked cunt, slapping your pussy fast and tough, making you cum hard, sobbing as your pussy flutters around nothing, your hands still pinned tightly against your back. Rafe fucks his fingers into your cunt, darting them inside you at an insane pace, and seconds later, you’re coming again, pussy gushing around his hand, landing on the floor with a little splash.

And even then, he doesn’t stop, his fingers just sopping through the mess as you fight against him, crying in overstimulation and pleasure. “Rafe, please. Please. Please.”

“What?” He spits.

“I-I… Mphff… Safe… Safeword,” you hiccup.

He booms out a laugh. Drawing both his hands back in surrender. Completely mocking you and the mess he made of his favorite girl. “You’re kiddin’ me?” He teases as he rests his hands on the bed, lowering himself to your ear, his chest brushing against your bare back. “Safeword?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you pant. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Jeopardizing my job, your life, our fuckin’ relationship over a bitch then means nothin’ to me. That’s the least you should be,” Rafe scolds as he grabs your hips, rolling you to your back.

You look between your thighs, eyes following Rafe as he reaches for his gun. He lifts it, making a show of it, eyeing the weapon in his hand. Your eyes fall down his body, watching his muscular chest rise and fall with his rapid breathing, his gold chain glinting in the dim. The ridges of his abs deepen with every level breath, his hard cock tenting out the fabric of his white Calvins, leaving you craving him even more.

He clicks on the safety, lifting the gun, pointing it at your pussy, slapping the piece against your inner thighs. “Spread your shit,” he mumbles. You widen your thighs on the mattress, your glossy cunt dripping with your arousal. Rafe presses the cool muzzle against your pulsing clit, making your muscles jump and your thighs drawn in. “I said ‘spread your shit,’” he shouts, making you flinch. “What’s it gonna take for you to listen? Huh?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I-”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Daddy,” he mocks your fucked-out voice again. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Rafe repeats your words from the fight as he starts to rub little figure eights on your clit. Your body trembles with adrenaline as he continues to work you over with his handgun. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. “You gonna cum… off a gun? You that big of a slut, princess? You don’t even need a dick?” Rafe mumbles, and right when you’re about to fall apart below him, he pulls it away, leaving you whimpering and fussing for more, your bottom lip wobbling as you look up into your boyfriend’s beautiful, cruel eyes.

“Rafe, you’re being mean…” You whisper, your voice barely above a hush. “I said, ‘I was sorry’.”

“And, I told you not to run away again… N’look what happened. Get on your knees.”

You climb off the bed, stumbling slightly from your weak knees. You land on the floor, crawling the rest of the way to Rafe, glassy-eyed and pouty-lipped. You kneel before him, watching as Rafe lifts the gun slightly, mirroring his dick, the tip of it coated with your slick.

“Suck it.”

Your heart starts to race as you look down the barrel of the gun. You look up at Rafe as you wrap your lips around the end of it, feeling your heart bang in your chest.

You take the cold metal to the back of your throat, taking as much as you can get, gagging around his weapon, sucking it clean, bobbing back and forth with your eyes on him. Rafe looks down at you hungrily, desperately wanting your lips on him and giving him the same service.

“Take ‘em off,” Rafe mumbles, and you slide your wet lips off the gun, racing to pull down his boxers fast. And without warning, he shoves himself in your mouth, pushing as far as his dick would go making you sputter and gag. You reach out, grabbing his tights, squeezing tightly, losing all vision as your eyes fill with tears.

You blink your tears away as he slides in and out of your swollen lips, grunting and moaning, using your mouth like a toy. The sounds around you were downright pornographic, making your pussy weep down your thighs. Your mouth leaked as well, saliva and precum dripping out of the seam.

Rafe finally pulls you off his cock, leaving you gasping for a breath. Before he can give you a command, you wrap your lips around him again in a desperate attempt for mercy, swirling and sucking him off just like he loves. You cradle his heavy balls in your hand, and he throats his hand back to the ceiling, a broad smile spreading on his perfect lips. “Atta girl… Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he praises.

You bob your head back and forth, stroking where your mouth won’t reach, trying desperately to please him. You can feel his cock throb and swell on your tongue, his breathing quickening by the second.

“Better swallow it all, princess, or we’re gonna be back at square one,” he mumbles, only half-kidding. He looks down at you, watching you throat him with all you have, his plump bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Rafe pulls out of your mouth, jerking his cock in your face as you lay out your tongue. His warm cum shoots out of his tip, coating your lips and tongue. Your eyes flutter open as you swallow it all, licking your lips to clean up the rest of the mess as you look up at him.

He clicks his tongue, letting his gaze fall, eyeing a few loose pearls of cum decorating the floor. You rest your hands on the hardwood, lowering yourself to lick it up.

“Fuck, princess,” he moans as he looks down at you in lust and adoration. Rafe reaches for you, pulling you off the floor and into his strong arms. You wrap yourself in his, dressing your arms around his neck as his lips press against yours for a tender kiss.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he soothes. “No more punishments. Alright? You took that shit like a good girl. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me… This right here—this is what I’ve been wantin’ to do all night.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, pecking at his lips.

“You kiddin’ me?” He chuckles as he lays you down on the bed, burying himself in his neck before kissing his way up to your ear. “Just wanted to take care of you. Make you feel good. Hard to think about much else when I see you up there. Can barely focus on keepin’ you safe when I’m just thinkin’ about fuckin’ this perfect pussy,” he mumbles as he slaps his tip against your clit.

Rafe slides his cock between your drenched folds, swirling his head around your hole before sinking in deep, bottoming you out with his long, thick dick. You grab two fistfuls of sheets as he grabs your hips in his big ringed hands, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in.

“So good, baby… Fuck. Damn, you look so good takin’ my cock,” he moans as he starts rutting in and out. You couldn’t even get a word out with the way his dick was slamming in and out of your pussy.

Your eyes roll back in your head, boobs bouncing with each thrust of his hips as you go absolutely dumb on his dick. Rafe speeds up the pace, making your body tremble uncontrollably. Tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks, wetting the pillow below. Rafe reaches down, brushing them away with his thumbs, slipping one between your lips to let you suck yourself numb as he drills into you.

“Come on, princess,” Rafe hums as he feels your body start to tighten around him. “Cream all over my cock. Show me what a good girl does, huh? Let me fill you up. Been so good for me,” he groans as he reaches down, rubbing circles on your throbbing clit as the coil in your belly gets tighter and tighter.

You scream his name, cumming all over his big cock as he fucks you through your orgasm. Rafe gives you a few more rough thrusts, emptying his load deep inside as his hungry lips devour yours, swallowing your whimpers and cries.

“You okay, baby?” He asks sweetly against your lips.

“M’perfect, Rafe,” you coo.

“You are,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “You mad at me still?” Rafe asks as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“No,” you whisper. “Can’t stay mad at you, baby.”

“Mhmm… I know the feelin’,” he laughs. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. You snag your phone out of your nightstand, pulling out your phone, seeing back-to-back messages from your manager.

Claire Baby: Rafe said you were ok. Stop running away. Thnx.

Claire Baby: Rafe mentioned that there was a history between him and Bella

Claire Baby: I told him to save it til after the show so it didn’t fuck with your chemistry

Claire Baby: I had no idea she was such a bitch. I’m sorry. Pls Forgive me.

“Rafe Cameron,” you sigh.

“Mhmm…” He asks as he pulls out of your pussy nice and slow, watching his warm cum leak out of your puffy hole, swirling his fingers around before stuffing it back inside.

“Rafe…”

“What?” He asks as he tilts his head slightly, lifting his fingers for you to suck them clean. You wrap your lips around his fingers, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you tried to say something?” You ask softly as you look back up at him.

“‘Cause I deserved it… Shoulda told you from the start,” he answers. “No more secrets…”

“No more running,” you whisper.

You roll your head to the side, catching the time on the clock. 11:58 PM… Rafe kisses your cheek lovingly, wrapping his big body in yours. “How do you see me, Rafe,” you ask softly, pulling his focus back to your eyes. He brushes your hair off your face, cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Well, when I see you, I see the future. I see my dream girl. I see the only thing I want to see.”

You bite your lips, fluttering your lashes, the night's emotions getting the better of you.

“I see the woman that I love, princess.”

“You love me?” You whisper, voice laced with tears.

Rafe pulls you into his lips as the world outside the window roars with the new year, the clock striking midnight as your lips meet, your bodies tangled in sheets.

“Of course I love you, baby,” he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

[vampzity]

Reps and Sex | BC

“Heart is racing day and night, for you. Don’t hold back enjoy the ride and let it loose.” — railway, bangchan

pairing: trainer! bangchan x f! reader

you always make sure to keep things professional between you and your personal trainer due to the differences in genders. but he makes that hard to do when things take a hot and steamy turn.

[warnings]: MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, dom! bangchan x sub! reader, praise kink, pet names (baby, angel, slut), thigh riding, clit play, yn begs to stop but it’s not in a harmful way

word count: 2.1k

“Just like that. Give me one more set baby.”

Chan watched you intently on the vertical chest press as the stack of weights lifted slowly, but surely. You pushed as hard as you could while trying not to strain yourself. Your moans and small whimpers felt like music to his ears, making his heart beat faster as he struggled to stay focused.

Easier said than done.

The way you pushed against the force of the weights, letting deep breaths out as the stacks moved up and down. How concentrated your face was and the way your chest puffed out with every push. How your face glistened with sweat from how warm you were. It turned him on in ways he couldn’t describe, through this wasn’t the first time it did so. Oh no. It’s been like this for weeks.

Chan felt like a pervert for the way he observed your body; the way your clothes hugged your curves, how plump your ass was whenever you squatted in front of him. However, your determination was the most attractive to him. You were so eager to please him, to show him you could accomplish any set he had prepared for you. The way you fed off of his words of praise. It left him with a feeling of superiority. How you obeyed him so easily as long as you received your praises.

Little did he know he was right.

You loved the praise. It gave you a feeling that you couldn’t quite describe. The pet names, the small placements of his hands. You wanted to be better for him, stronger, you wanted to work harder to make him happy. You were high off his praises.

“Chan?”

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts, giving you a small smile as you finished up your last set. He handed you your bottle of water, watching the way your throat bobbed with every swallow.

“You did great baby. Better than last time, I’m very proud of you.”

You blushed softly, looking up at his low eyes. It made him shutter at the way you looked at him. How innocent you looked below him, how pretty you would look with your swollen lips around his—

“Are you even listening??”

He did it again. He can’t help himself; you’re roaming through his head every second and it’s only dirty thoughts. Nothing else but that. It was only you two in that very moment, and god was he lucky that this gym was in his basement. He wanted so badly to resist you, but something in his mind ached, begging to be in you.

You stood up, eyebrows laced with confusion. You placed your hand on his arm, squeezing it gently as you spoke words his mind couldn’t make out. He was far gone in thought at this point, his bulge only growing at feeling your warm touch. Chan couldn’t do it anymore, he needed you and needed you badly. His body yearned to feel you.

“Fuck I can’t do this anymore.”

He grabbed your chin, pulling you to him as he crashed his lips onto yours. His free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. You melted into his touch, your body heating up from the way he kissed you. There was so much passion, but it was so heated, like he wanted more.

He moved his head and laid small kisses against your neck, earning small whimpers from you. Chan didn’t expect you to give into him so easily, not like this. He felt the way you yearned for his touch, how your skin heated up with every inch that his lips moved.

“More.. please..”

Your voice trailed through his mind, making his cock twitch. What a whore, you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you and that’s exactly what Chan wanted.

He grabbed your arm, pulling you up the stairs until you reached the living room. Sitting on the couch, he pulled you to him all while pulling your shorts down leaving you with nothing but your panties on. He pulled you into his lap, kissing your arm softly with his other hand playing with your nipple. Your skin was so soft again his lips, making him groan softly as he inched his way further up your body.

You subconsciously grinded against his thigh, your juices soaking through your panties. His hands held onto your waist, moving with your motion as you let out small whimpers of pleasure.

“You’re so desperate baby. I didn’t realize how badly you wanted me.”

He wrapped his lips around your nipple, his tongue playing with it softly as you continued your movement. You were so close and you could feel it— how badly you wanted to let go all over his thigh. His lips went back to your neck, sucking on the skin while his thumb replaced his place on your nipple. Your back arched, your pace quickened as you felt your high getting closer.

“C’mon pretty, be a good girl and cum for me will you?”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore— between the way he pushed your hips harder against him and his thumb playing with your sensitive tip, it sent you over. The rush came fast, leaving you breathless. Your face heated up out of embarrassment, throwing your head back in relief while Chan admired the mess on his thigh.

You were getting ready to get off, but he held down your legs, digging his nails only slightly into them. You looked at him, watching face turn from soft to cold as he tilted his head. A small shiver flew up your spine, watching as he leaned over to your ear.

“You didn’t think we were done yet, did you?”

You nodded your head, feeling his hand slip down to your panties as he played with the hem. He began to tug at them slightly, signaling for you to take them completely off. In the midst of that, he too pulled his shorts down, leaving him in only his underwear. He held you by your waist, his eyes widening at your glistening cunt as it hovered above his legs.

You pulled at the underwear, pulling his cock out. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight, now fully aware of what you were about to get yourself into. At that point, you didn’t care, you were already so far along and there was no turning back now.

You held his cock in your hands, feeling it pulsate at your touch. Chan let out a small grown, his head falling back as he bucked his hips against you. He yearned for this— yearned for your touch. He weakly held your hand, pulling your body toward him.

“Brace yourself and take a seat baby.”

His statement was soft, but pleading. His eyes were dark and hooded, filled with lust as he reached to kiss your arm. His lips trailed up your body as you held him under your entrance. His tip grazed your opening, earning a small moan from him as you sat on him. You clenched around him, pausing to catch your breath as you struggled to take his girth. His lips reached your neck, making the hair stand up as his breath hit your skin with every inch that you let in.

You grinded against him slowly, feeling his tip hit your sweet spot. His hands held your waist as his head rested against your collarbone, struggling not to take bites out of your skin.

“Fuuuck, just like that.” he groaned.

His hips rolled against yours, the fabric of his underwear brushing against your clit harshly. You sucked your teeth in pleasure, whimpers escaping your mouth. Chan looked up at you, smirking at how worked up you were ontop of him. He held your chin, pulling your face to meet his gaze. Your face warmed up in his grip making you stop subtly.

“Don’t stop for me angel. Keep riding me like the slut you are.” His free hand moved your waist, forcing a steady rhythm back into you.

“Wanna see your eyes roll back baby.”

Chan’s force on your waist fastened, catching you off guard as his cock hit your sweet spot harder than before. He thrusted into you from under, pulling your chin to lock lips. He kissed you harshly, biting your lip as you whimpered. He grunted into your mouth with every time that you clenched around his length, nearly pushing him over the edge. He could feel your heart beat against his chest, your skin heating up against his.

This is exactly what he wanted— to have you wrapped around his finger.

“Chan..” you mumbled, aching for breath. “Gonna cum.”

You continued to whimper, your movements becoming restless against him as his cock rammed into you, repeatedly hitting that same spot.

“Look at you.” Chan tilted his head slightly, admiring your pleading cries. “You’re such a slut.”

He threw his head back onto the couch, feeling his tip grow swollen at the continuous pressure. He felt himself leaking, wanting so badly to spill into you but trying has hard to hold it in. He wasn’t going to let you think two times was enough, oh no.

He had rounds to go.

Your pace softened, feeling your climax coming you wanted to make it last as long as you could. Your mind was hazy as you rode him, but apart of you wanted to stay like this forever. Chan picked up on this, rolling his hips against yours as his nails dug into your soft skin.

“Don’t toy with me now. Ride me harder will you please baby?”

You gave him pleading eyes, wishing he would just let you ride out your high. Unlucky for you, he wasn’t going to go so easy on you.

His nails dug deeper into you. He leaned forward, his breath brushing against your ear.

“You heard me right baby? I hope you’re gonna do as I say.” he laid a soft kiss against your neck before going back up to your ear.

“Cause I’d hate to have to show you some discipline.”

He held tightly onto your waist, gradually fastening the pace. Your hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing them as you felt his tip brush against your sweet spot. Your back arched with every time he moved in and out of you, giving him a sense of pleasure in your whining, in all the moans he received from you.

“Fuck, Chan I can’t..”

The pressure built quickly, faster than you could prepare for. Your head fell back, riding out your high as he curved his hips upward. He knew what he was doing with this, he knew how much more pressure it gave feeling his curve inside of you. It was too much for you, but at the same time you wanted more. You wanted him, you needed him. Your juices spilled all over him, squeezing his cock as you let your climax wash over you.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.”

Chan admired you as you panted for air, as your whines grew louder. He felt his mouth drool at your state, his thumb coming up to caress your cheek as he watched you bounce on his cock. He kissed you sloppily, your moans mixing together as you got faster, harder, becoming more cock drunk on him.

He quickly put you on your back, the sudden change catching you off guard. He wrapped your legs around him as he pounded into you, his moans becoming low growls as you continuously clenched around his length.

“Yea, you like that?”

You moaned in pleasure, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fucked you roughly. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

His cold tone sent shivers up your spine, making you whimper a small ‘yes’ as he continued to ram into you. Chan’s groans got louder with every thrust, each one harder than the last. He wanted so badly to fill you with his cum and watch as it dripped out of you. The thought made his cock twitch.

“Fuck, baby..” He whimpered as he felt his high approaching, smiling as his thrusts became delayed. “Gonna cum in this pretty pussy of yours.”

He pushed one last thrust into you, filling you with his warmth. He collapsed onto your body, kissing your neck softly as he slowly pumped into your cunt. He sat up, pulling his length out of you before quickly stuffing his fingers into you, catching you off guard. He fingered you softly, watching as drips of his cum spilled out of you. You held onto his wrist, begging him to stop while his fingers curled inside you.

“Aww, all tired out hm?” he pouted, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

He pulled his fingers out of you, flipping you around into your stomach. He stuck his swollen tip into you, holding it there while your entrance throbbed around him. He played with your clit, humming as your pleading whimpers filled his ears.

“Lucky for you, I have ways to go angel.”

a/n: i’m literally addicted to railway it’s so bad like it made its way to my top songs for 2024 within 2 weeks LMAO

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @jjongibears @h4untedgrl @rvereri

@kittykat-25 @sundaybossanova @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @vnessalau

@dollywoo @tiredlittlevirgo @roomsofangel @honeyhwaaa @joonezra

@evidive

☆ comment to be added to my taglist or fill out the form!

[jybyls]

Our world || J.O

Masterlist

Synopsis: Your girlfriend's come back home for the weekend.

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive content, not proofread, bad writing, short, and I think that's it.

Words: 830~

- 📜🎧🍂 -

On your day off, you decided not to do anything special. Just sleep and eat and sleep some more. You were currently still sleeping even if it was already ten a.m. and you weren't planning on waking up any time soon, but life had different plans for you.

You felt your bed sinking at the weight of someone else who woke you. You opened your eyes in confusion only to see your girlfriend, Jenna, with a sweet smile on her face, "Good morning, sleepyhead." She whispered, brushing your hair off your face.

You weren't fully awake, so you didn't completely understand what was going on. You knew Jenna was away for work, and she wasn't supposed to be back till next month, so it's fair to say you were surprised.

"What- when ? Wait. What ?" You stuttered, causing her to chuckled at your confusion, "I got two days off, so I came to see you, love." She explained, and only now did it make sense to you. "Wait, so I get to spend the weekend with my girlfriend ?!" You exclaimed, full of happiness.

Jenna softly laughed, finding your excitement endearing, "Yes, love. We're going to spend the weekend together." She barely had time to finish her sentence that you rushed into her arms, both for you falling down on the floor. She secured her arms around you, happily smiling at your joy while you buried your face into her neck, not caring that you fell.

"That happy, huh ?" She teased, her hands caressing your back. You eagerly nodded, "I'm so happy. I missed you so much." You mumbled against her neck, holding her tighly like she would slip away. Her features softened, and so did her voice, "I missed you too. So much. I'm so glad to be back home." She softly spoke.

She was so unbelievably content to have you back. I'm her arms that she never wanted to let go, and the feeling was mutual.

All her anxiety faded away the second she was with you. It was like you shielded her from the negativity of this world without even trying.

Your existence alone was enough for her well being and the only thing she wanted was to show you her gratitude so the moment she heard your stomach crowling she didn't waste any time to carry you back into your bed and rushed to the kitchen to make you some breakfast.

Soon enough, she was back with slices of bread with jam on it, a proud smile on her face, "Breakfast is here !" She sat down next to you, putting the plate on your lap. "I thought you abandoned me for a moment." You sarcastically said since she suddenly left the room. "No, I would never. It was just to make breakfast for my princess." She grinned, putting your hair behind your ear as she kissed your cheek.

You slightly blushed, soflty smiling at her kind gestures, "Thank you, Jenna. I really appreciate it." You took a bite into your slice of bread and hummed at the taste. You turned your head to her with the slice of bread still in your mouth, Jenna quickly understood what you wanted, so she took a bite, giggling at the silly action.

You guys were catching up on everything even tho you'd call each other every day while you weren't together to keep the other one updated. You enjoy your breakfast with your girlfriend, cuddling up to her, feeling her warmth agasint you brought you so much comfort.

You missed her like crazy you can barely believe she's with you right now, holding you, kissing you every now and then, whispering sweet nothings in your ears. Her kisses became more regular and passionate. Your breakfast was now long gone and forgotten, and all your attention was on Jenna.

She cupped your cheek, bringing you closer to her. You were quick to straddle her lap, your arms around her neck, what a hand in her hair, while her hands travelled down your waist. "I missed you so much, love. Missed your body, your lips, your hands. Everything." She whispered, kissing your jaw.

You contently sighed, loving the feeling of her lips on you, "Gosh, I missed you too." You mumbled, ecstasy could be heard in your voice.

Jenna smirked, slightly squeezing your waist, "Can I take off your shirt, love ?" She asked. Her fingers were already toying the hem of your shirt. You immediately nodded, eager to feel more of her.

Neither of you could wait to love on each other after so much time away from the other one. You both only wanted to show to your lover how much you've missed them.

Your clothings were everywhere on the floor of your room, your bed was total mess and were you but you didn't care because you were with the love of you life for the weekend and that was the height of happiness in your life.

As long as you were with her, nothing mattered.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: I hate this, but I felt like I needed to post something, so here we go. Love y'all <3

[doberbutts]

hello! I'm the one that sent you that ask a week or so ago. Sorry I didn't check to see if you'd answered for a while because I was just so upset and had to take a second. I will say I scrolled through a bunch of helpful posts you reblogged before I even found the ask again that helped a LOT.

Two things I thought you might want to know is that it wasn't speculation that you'd blocked the weirdo blog that sent me your way: they literally have "proudly blocked by doberbutts" in their bio which was why i felt safe coming to you lmao. Second is I guess my struggle with this issue was an overall struggle with how bad wider misogyny has gotten in general and how muddied it's gotten with the "male loneliness crisis" and like, centering men's issues under patriarchy and just how insanely upset it's been making me. Seeing cis MRAs identify with trans men freaked me out because like, yeah it's important to talk about how (cis) men suffer under patriarchy but it's just so rare for me to find men do that without devolving into misogyny, and I start to feel so helpless because I know validating these issues matter but women are being literally dehumanized openly. I do play oppression olympics with this specific issue and just of COURSE women suffer more under patriarchy, but the same men who demand space to air how they suffer won't acknowledge that truth. (sorry for soapboxing; some of them do! It's just...things are so bad for women rn lol it's really hard to have compassion when it feels like none is being given to me).

So the more I see this issue the more I think people are being affected by larger misogyny like I am, but are doing the typical thing that happens where you lash out at a group you can "reach." Policing and harassing trans men's behaviours is way easier than cis men. I've also been seeing some parallels between this discourse and the "gay men vs lesbian women" discourse. It's not really a one-to-one but the discussion of the role of misogyny re homophobia towards gay men who still have male privilege but, come on, if they have feminine affectation it's Different and the back and forth that used to happen when gay men and lesbian women did oppression olympics, it just feels similar.

idk as i type this I hope I don't come across disingenuous or like, my Too Casual Overly Respectful tone is trying to subtly incept you. I worry my vibes are too "women first" but I just can't help it misogyny really is ruining my life 😭. Anyways I'm very grateful for your perspective and your blog. I feel more settled and equipped to push back against anti transmasculine behaviour with rhetoric that can actually challenge people

To respond to each point in turn:

1: Again I still don't really know who that is, though I am somewhat bemused by the idea that someone I clearly don't really remember is still so obsessed with me that they're proud I've blocked them. For the record, my block list is as follows: people who send anonymous hate, people who continue to harass me after I've told them to stop, people I catch with posts containing inexcusable bigotry, obvious trolls, self-identified zoophiles and MAPs, and people who repeatedly send me fundraisers after I have already said I only share fundraisers from people I know and trust. Being on my block list is, um, not really good company, so it's kind of funny to me that someone is proud to be there. Yeah I'm sure they'll fit right in with the neo-nazis and dogfuckers and cyber bullies. Oh and I guess my ex but I only blocked them after they started harassing me about our failed relationship years later. Enjoy block hell I suppose.

2: I'm not really here to play who has it worse, not because I don't recognize the wider understanding of privilege vs oppression but because I think it is a self-defeating thread of thought because you will always find a "more oppressed" example, and I think that people should be allowed to talk about their hurts regardless of their status of "more oppressed" vs "less oppressed". Talking about the ways society has hurt them is not what makes MRAs dangerous. What makes them dangerous is who they blame, how they go about fixing their problem, and the solutions to their problems they come up with.

To be quite frank, the majority of MRAs are men who have experienced some form of social rejection or isolation. Most have been sold some patriarchal lie about how by being men they inherently deserve good sex with hot women on demand, a wife at home to keep barefoot and pregnant, a high paying job where they are respected and valued regardless of the effort they themselves put into it, and all the luxuries that lifestyle can afford. This is a fantasy, you and I both know it. And when these men realize the hard reality that we live in an age of extreme social isolation, that in order to have a partner you need to actually have more personality than a used dishrag and with only half the mess at max, that good sex is about give and take and not just yourself, that these high paying jobs are few and far between with most takers being born into some level of wealth rather than any merit they themselves have earned... they lash out.

It does not at all help things to understand that many of these MRAs are themselves marginalized in some way, but their framework not only doesn't let them see it but also advocates a harsh rejection of anyone who is self-aware enough to realize it. A lot of these guys are undiagnosed, have trauma, and are just as affected by the systems of racism, classism, homo- and trans-phobia, xenophobia, sexism, and ableism as the rest of us.

Quite frankly, I'd rather these dudes see a group of (trans) men fighting for our place in society by joining hands with other activists with more feminist, black-friendly, disabled-friendly, gay- and trans-friendly in an attempt to lift everyone out of the pit rather than continuing to fight over scraps... than to see them continue to blame women and Jews and then go shoot up a school or a mall about it. One of these helps. The other just kills people and excuses rape. There's a lot of value in deradicalizing people by offering them a path to resolving their pain that is perhaps less destructive and more constructive.

This is also why the constant comparison to MRAs annoys me. MRAs kill people in senseless acts of terror and despair because they're upset that they're not having the sex fantasy the patriarchy sold them. Trans men talking about our oppression- regardless of the word we use to express it- are mostly talking amongst ourselves about suicide and rape statistics and sharing ways to get hormones and surgery despite unwilling doctors and insurance companies. We're talking about how our social groups rejected us the moment we came out, or how people use us being men against us in ways that was not happening before we came out or passed. These are not at all equivalent conversations.

3: Again I ask you- I see people using both cis and trans feminist frameworks to hurt other people. Where is your concern for that? I am equally concerned about TERFs as I am about MRAs, as they have driven multiple transgender people and our allies to suicide and even have committed acts of violence against people irl as a result of their ideology. Most TERFs will also be the first ones to tell you that they have been hurt, deeply, by men and that they also are frequently undiagnosed or untreated, traumatized, and affected by the same systems of oppression. Does their existence and their determination to latch onto every feminist conversation including those of people who are staunchly against them then poison all feminism to you? If not, then why make that distinction for trans men and MRAs?

I am black. I am Indigenous. I am transgender. I am gay. I am disabled. I am poor. I suffer. People hurt me. I see every day how bad things are. Do you think I cannot see it, or that my ignorance is the reason for my request for compassion? Perhaps consider that it is rather my knowledge and my lived experience that fuel my call for compassion, instead. I never said it would be easy. But I do think it would make a better world.

4: I do actually agree that it is very similar to the gay man vs lesbian conversation and have said for a while that it's the same queer infighting discussion we've already hashed out for the last 50 or so years, but the target groups just swapped out. It's just butchphobia, it's just biphobia, it's just aphobia, it's just panphobia, it's just nbphobia- it's the same fucking shit over and over and over again. It was shit infighting before and it's shit infighting now. Privilege is a conversation that depends so heavily on context, and the way it has been bastardized by the internet's poor understanding of political frameworks developed by women of color and their allies into cute soundbites and phrases rather than a deep, nuanced knowledge will never fail to annoy me.

Do gay men have privilege over lesbians? As a class, sure, they would have male privilege. But what do we mean by male privilege? The privilege to not worry about being assaulted on the street? To walk home late at night unbothered? To marry who they want, to have the romantic partner they desire, to feel safe within a domestic partnership? You and I both know that doesn't quite match up to the lived experience of gay men worldwide or even here in the "gay paradise" US. How does this interact with other marginalizations? Does a black gay man have privilege over a white lesbian? What happens if he's a drag queen dressed up for an event and she's a butch that passes for cis male? Does that change retroactively if this "gay man" figures out she's actually a transbian 5 years later, and the lesbian is a TERF? I'm not saying this breaks the framework of male privilege- I am saying that sometimes the theory doesn't match the reality, and a nuanced and intersectional understanding is required when talking on an individual scope rather than class politics.

Additionally- as a side note- it is also incredibly annoying to watch people act like privilege = oppressor = dangerous, and oppressed = victim = safe. Privilege, and whether or not you have any, is not a moral indicator nor is it an indicator of the safety of the person you're interacting with. I have privilege over people who cannot walk, because I can. I am not objectively or systemically oppressing people who cannot walk by the use of my legs in my day-to-day life. Oppression is action- if I vote for policies and politicians that removes ramps and safety regulations and provisions to assist wheelchair users? Now I am oppressing people who cannot walk. If I block or move or interfere with the disability aids, if I mock people or assault or harm them, if I dump them out of their mobility aids or break them, that is oppression. The act of climbing the 3 stairs on my front porch to get into my house is a privilege, but the oppression stems from the people who built my house to even have stairs on both exits.

5: lastly to end a very long post, I don't actually think there's any harm in centering yourself when discussing things that objectively affect you, as long as you remember to include others who are affected and let them have their floor to also center themselves when they need to speak up. I am a black trans man. My politics are pretty centered on black feminism. I don't think that is objectively a bad thing. I prefer to let the demographics with similar problems speak for themselves- I would rather my trans fem friends get the mic when they open their mouths, my lesbian friends, my Jewish friends, my latino and asian and arab friends. I don't think there's anything wrong with them centering their own problems and outlooks, as long as they recognize that there's shared space to be had with others who feel similar hurts. I think it's pretty normal to center yourself. I think the difficult thing is knowing when to relinquish the megaphone to someone who's been dying to use it, while you yourself still have so much to say.

[changeling-droneco]

The only holiday in general for americans that is even on paper to come close it would probably be memorial or veterans day, but even while technically supposed to be a more somber occasion I associate it with the two million "FUCK YEAH AMERICA MATTRESSES ARE ON SAAAALE eagle screech" ads you'd always get around that time when I was younger and that time a vet in my welding class got annoyed at being given a flag pin during that time and gave it to me because i wore pins.

So even as someone who was only christian for like, the first six years of my life at most, the idea of holidays not being a celebration is still so very odd to me. Like it makes sense, but its just really ingrained that holiday = celebration in American culture I feel. Which probably have roots in being culturally christian but also roots in American individualism and the like.

Though also in the fact we're very much a very proud country that hates discussing anytime we lose along with not having had a big enough loss that shakes the country to the extent it can't be just glossed over, the closest would be 9-11 but even then that gets framed in a bit of a "this bad thing happened, so we beat them up over it WOOO" light.

Which can also very much I believe be attributed to the fact America as the country it is now in all things considered, pretty young, it became a colony in 1607 after all and gained independence in the 1700s. That's really not that old for a country, kinda young even. It's not really had a chance in a lot of ways to go through the kinds of things that create those kinds of holidays yet.

(Obviously it's more complicated then that as the Natives absolutely have gone through great loss, but this is about more the concept and perception of America as a country in the modern day, which is rather different then going over the actual political details of the history of the area as a whole. Very Istanbul not Constantinople)

Judaism makes holidays so hard to explain.

Why can’t you sit on chairs today? Because it’s a holiday.

Why do you have that weird lemon? Because it’s a holiday.

Why are you staying up all night? Because it’s a holiday.

Why are you building a hut? Because it’s a holiday.

Why are you trying to give me your flour? Because it’s a holiday.

Why are you apologizing for an argument I’ve forgotten about? Because it’s a holiday.

[stellar-solar-flare]

What Makes A Home

ex-soldier!Ari Levinson x neighbor!Reader | 2,385 words.

Themes: friends to lovers, idiots in love, competency kink if you squint, neighbors, cozy community.

Reader is female, no Y/N, no description of appearance. Nicknames 'dear' and 'honeybun' are used by Ari for Reader.

My blog is for people 18+ only, minors DNI.

Story Content Warnings: implied smut, Ari being a soldier mentioned, Ari having guilt over his past, some very minor hurt/comfort (the love is requited, they're both just idiots).

Notes: This is a made-to-order fic for the amazing @bigtreefest - I hope it brings you joy and fulfilled your prompt! Full disclosure; I wasn't able to get my hands on the movie, so I had to piece Ari's character together from his scenes on YouTube. My utmost gratitude to @steviebbboi for character consult and helping me be confident about the decisions I made in the planning stages of this fic (all mishaps mine, of course). It is also my first time writing Ari. I hope you enjoy, and all feedback is very welcome!

I do not own anything The Red Sea Diving Resort related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

The house that you inherited from your great-grandaunt — who apparently despised you less than her other relatives —is definitely what a realtor would describe as ‘having plenty of potential’. But it really does have good bones, so to speak, and with the current housing market, you definitely aren’t complaining.

And the neighborhood isn’t half-bad, either. The community is close-knit, if a little nosy, helpful to the point of overbearing.

And so, they didn’t miss it when a new moving truck arrived at the house next to yours. The gossip has gone wild — the names of different special services are thrown around in the whispers like candy, even though no one can reasonably know anything about his history. Especially if he has a history as some overseas covert operator, like Mary at the end of the street keeps claiming, he certainly will keep that information to himself.

You are yet to run to him, and so you’re operating on second-hand information about him — which is mostly focusing on the fact that he’s tall and bearded and looks like he could bench press a school bus.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you reason that a simple welcome visit isn’t going to end with your untimely demise. You pick a nice Saturday afternoon, check that his truck is on the driveway, and make your favorite snickerdoodle recipe. With a plate of still-warm cookies under aluminum foil, you go ring his doorbell, not entirely sure why your heart is beating so hard. It’s just a decent thing to do.

It takes a few moments for him to open the door, and when he does, you are proud that your poker face holds.

“Hi,” you say to the giant at the door. “You must be Ari. I live in the house next to yours, and I thought I’d come to welcome you to the neighborhood; they did it to me too, when I moved in a few months ago. I brought snickerdoodles.”

You extend the plate to him, and he takes it. He leans one shoulder on the doorframe, and you do not swallow when you see the muscles of his arms move. His hair reaches behind his ears, and he has a nicely trimmed beard. Even in a simple — tight — white shirt and jeans, he does look like a soldier. Not violent but like there is an alertness to him, despite the amusement in his eyes.

“Hi,” he says. “Yes. I’m Ari. And you are?”

You give him your name, chuckling at the fact that you left it out in the first place.

“Nice to meet you. And thank you for the baked goods. Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee?”

He moves aside, gesturing for you to step over the threshold.

And you do.

There were a lot of things you had learned about Ari over the six months since your first meeting, that cup of coffee that somehow hadn’t felt awkward at all. He had a talent for filling moments like that with idle chatter that didn’t feel like it was just there to cover something.

It was just so Ari, how his charm was always on display and yet so inseparably a part of his very being that it didn’t feel like an act. It was just who he was. Of course, he could be a playboy — at least when it came to the charming part, since as far as you knew, there hadn’t been anyone visiting his house besides you.

You were more than certain that a fair number of ladies in the neighborhood harbored a crush. And why wouldn’t they, when Ari was the first to volunteer to any project, cracking easy jokes while he worked and being all charismatic smiles and wide shoulders ready to tackle anything.

It was that restless energy that had drawn him to your house, too. Just like you had turned up to his door that one Saturday, the next week he had turned up at yours, dressed in a flannel and jeans and carrying what looked like a heavy, well-equipped toolbox, pristinely new.

“Those gutters are going to fall off the clips soon. I could attach them better if that’s alright with you?”

Stunned, you had nodded. Sure, there was an endless list of things to attend to, and the gutters had been on your mind but then winter had come and you’d been so focused on other things. You had no idea how he noticed, and when you’d asked, he shrugged it off, mentioning something about how he had to learn how to build and maintain things out there, so you’d left the topic at that.

It was the first thing he fixed at your house, but not the last. He gravitated here, looking to do something of meaning, and he refused to hear your suggestions about paying him for the work he was doing — despite the fact that every project he poured himself into was done with the meticulousness rivaling not only someone not in the profession but with a passion to it.

Like the patio you were now sitting on your knees on, holding the plank in place for him so he could screw it onto the beam underneath from the opposite side. You’d made the mistake of mentioning over a shared dinner that you had contacted a contractor to see how much it would be to replace the deck, and he had turned up the next morning with all the necessary materials, in the exact shade of wood that you’d envisioned.

You weren’t certain that you wanted to know what strings he’d pulled to get all that so fast.

“Ari, seriously, you didn’t need to do this.”

“Nope,” he said. “But I wanted to.”

“At least let me pay for the wood,” you said. “You know, I’m a strong independent woman and I do have my own paycheck.”

“And I’m very proud of you, dear,” he said with perfect nonchalance, and you tried to ignore something twisting in your chest at that. “Just let me pick the next five movies for our movie nights and we’re even.”

You huffed, knowing that you’d be in for some underground art movies no one but Ari had ever even heard of but nodded regardless. It was literally the least you could do.

He finished screwing the plank down and reached for more screws from the box on the side — you’d begun earlier today by laying down all the planks to have an even platform to work with, and now it was just the matter of evening out the cracks in between and attaching them to the support structure. His arms moved, and his t-shirt lifted slightly as he bent to the side, revealing a slice of tanned, warm skin at his waist. You forced yourself not to stare.

The thing with Ari was that he flirted with anyone and everyone — except with you. He made the grannies laugh by asking them at the community nights if they were old enough to drink; he had the cashiers at the local grocery store sighing dreamily after him when he departed with one of his famous smiles. Everyone seemed to understand it was all fun and games, and yet you were certain you weren’t the only one here with hopes when it came to him.

But it wouldn’t be you — his complete and total lack of that kind of behavior around you was the clearest sign you could’ve asked for. He saw you in an entirely platonic light, and so you didn’t want to endanger what was a beautiful and genuinely enjoyable friendship with him by asking him if you could be more than that.

Even if sometimes the question, the why not me, burned your tongue and tried to sneak out of your throat. At least then you’d know the reason why he saw you so differently than others.

“Honeybun?” he said, yanking you out of your thoughts.

You swallowed, hoping that the question would go down too, and met his expectant gaze. He’d said something, and it had flown right past you, and now he was staring. God, you could drown in the blue of his eyes.

You were lucky to have him. He was a good friend, caring, attentive. He made you laugh at the worst of days; he was good at coming up with solutions, especially unconventional ones. You had no reason at all to feel wistful at all the nicknames, derived from different baked goods you’d made for him over the past months.

“Nothing, nothing,” you said, lowering your gaze. “Sorry. What did you need me to do?”

You heard a thump as he set the screwdriver down. He reached his hand, two fingers under your jaw tilting your face back up so that you’d look at him. There was that little wrinkle of worry between his brows and you felt a pang of guilt even as the warmth of his fingers was making your skin tingle.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he said. “We can take a break if you need a few. You’ve been somewhere far away for half the day.”

You quickly shook your head, knowing that you’d already ventured too far close to the line you didn’t want to end up crossing.

“Just a little tired, that’s all,” you said, hearing the flimsiness of the excuse even in your own ears.

He tilted his head and raised his brow; his hand was still there, under your jaw, lingering where it absolutely shouldn’t.

“I know it when you’re lying, honeybun,” he said, one corner of his mouth rising into a smirk. “Spill the beans. Do I need to kick someone’s ass? I’ll do it, you know.”

You swallowed so loud that it seemed to echo in your head like the creaking sound of thin ice.

“No, there’s no need for that. I was just wondering what’s so different about me?”

A flash of something in his eyes, gone so quickly that you could hardly tell it was there to begin with.

“Different how?” he said, strain in his voice, like he was going for some sort of normalcy and failing to grasp it.

Oh no. You had opened some floodgate and now things would be awkward from here to eternity. The only way to save this was to get it all out, and now that the water was flowing freely, there was no stopping the words from flowing out of your mouth:

“Well, it’s not a big deal, but sometimes I wonder why it is that you have this flirt going on with everyone except for me, and I mean, it’s absolutely and totally fine, you just see me thoroughly like a friend and that’s that but with what we have and all the nicknames and all that, sometimes I wish there could be more and I’m just wondering –“

And then you were wondering about nothing at all.

Ari was on you like a shot, his hands framing your face and pulling your lips on his even as he leaned towards you, and it didn’t matter that you didn’t understand. His kiss was a claim laid, one hand cupping the nape of your neck and the other wrapping around your waist even as his mouth devoured yours. He pulled back with his lips still on yours, bringing you to his lap and he was everything, everywhere, his scent and warmth and the softness of his shirt smelling like spring sun and laundry detergent, the taste of him on your tongue, the feeling of his hands mapping your body. It was just him all around you, and you fell into that just as easily as you’d once fallen into a comfortable, shared routine of friendship.

When he finally let your mouth go, you were both out of breath, and you were straddling his lap, suddenly very aware of how his feelings towards you weren’t entirely platonic at all. There was a hint of pink on his cheeks, and his hands came to cup your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin.

“You were too precious for that, honeybun,” he murmured, eyes fixed on yours. “I didn’t… When you waltzed into my house that day, it was the first time it felt like a home. You were the first time I felt at home. And putting on that face… it felt too cheap for you. And I didn’t… I couldn’t lose you. Not you. So I thought I’d be there for you. Take care of you, make you happy, and find my joy from that. When I was out there… I don’t know if I did enough, if I made a difference. I wasn’t sure I even deserved the kind of peace I felt with you.”

“Ari,” you breathed out, tears prickling in your eyes, unsure what you would’ve said even if there wasn’t a lump blocking your throat. “Ari, I…”

His thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen lips, and he shook his head ever so slightly, his gaze aflame with something that could never ever be just friendship.

“But now that I’ve had a taste of you, honey, I’m not selfless enough to give that up. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I can’t let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

And just like that, his mouth was back, his hands diving down from your face to map the shape of your body, and the tiny moan he breathed right onto your lips sent a shiver down your back. He was holding you by the hips and you tangled both of your hands into his hair, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere without you.

“I think,” he managed in between pushes of his lips. “I think the patio can wait.”

You nodded eagerly, and he stood up with ease that sent a swooping feel of desire into your core, his hands slipping under your thighs so he could carry you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as your arms clung to him, and he made a beeline for the door that led inside.

It was a good thing that after all the work he’d done at the house, he knew exactly where the bedroom was.

Thank you for reading. Please consider leaving a comment, if you can spare the time and energy.

[whispersleo]

MY TASTE IN MEN

This was supposed to be a warm-up meme sketch, but I started writing the comparisons seriously, so here’s the post...

Astarion and Illario

They become "villains"/bad guys as a response to trauma.

They use their beauty and body to deceive and objectify themselves to get what they believe they want.

They have suffered physical, verbal, and emotional abuse that would break anyone.

They don't want to see themselves as victims, nor show—they hate feeling—weakness. They want to be stronger and crave power at any cost.

They display superiority toward others when their entire lives they have been beneath or in someone's shadow.

They have become so accustomed to lying and manipulating that I doubt they even know their true selves.

They approach someone who welcomes them with open arms, all the while thinking about how to use that person.

They fall to pieces if you show them genuine affection and love, what it’s truly meant to be.

They would kill for you.

They are my wet rats; they have no body hair.

I think, after all, they do enjoy sex—it probably involves unconventional things.

What they want and what they need are VERY different things.

I can fix them.

They have a strange relationship with blood.

They would betray you if it meant saving their own lives.

Showing vulnerability is the last thing they want, and strangely, it's what would save both of them from becoming monsters.

I have a weakness for men who try to kill me. You're screaming for me to fix you babe.

This could end very badly or very well.

They are charming and it is easy to fall for their lies instead of seeing beyond that mask.

People see them as "dumb" when they are tremendously intelligent. They may not be textbook smart, but they know how to read people, ask the right questions at the right time, they wait for the opportunity and always analyze the situations they find themselves in. People call them "dumb" because it's easier to accept it instead of the complex idea that a character can be smart but a moron at the same time.

They won't be jerks to you, but they'll probably treat the waitress on the date poorly if she fucks up something.

They are the kind of person who is worth being romantically with, but to get there you have to take off their mask and that in itself is a great effort.

They definitely want to be someone's first choice, for once in their lives.

Deep down, all they want is adoration, love and respect.

I want to hold them and tell them that they deserve to be loved without any ties or conditions to that love.

Gale, Emmrich and Lucanis

They are sweet by nature, kind souls despite all the pain they've been through.

Showing kindness is what makes them strong.

Once they fall in love with you, they are lost.

They have enormous insecurities.

They feel the weight of the world on their shoulders all the time.

Great facial and body hair.

They have a strange relationship with death.

They have a huge heart that yearns to love.

I would feel very proud to introduce them as my partner. Like yes this good man loves me, isn't that amazing?

They have self-destructive tendencies.

It makes me blush to hear them laugh because it’s the most precious sound in the world.

I would feel safe with them around.

They would die for you.

Gale and Emmrich

They are professors, and I DEFINITELY don't feel an incredible attraction toward men who can teach me interesting and unknown subjects in depth (of course, that DOESN'T turn me on).

They are the smartest and kindest in this room.

They love to show and share their studies and knowledge with anyone willing to listen.

They are patient.

They know how to listen.

They offer their opinion when you clearly didn't ask for it.

Too many times they want to help or give advice without being asked.

They've had many partners, but they love you a lot, and that willingness to learn how to love again is one of their most beautiful qualities.

In some strange way, they know how to fight when I think they're meant to be treated with care and delicacy or they'll break (just kidding).

Oh, and by the way, both of them are mages—guess it's sexy that you can do a bunch of magical things...

They are nerds even when it comes to sex and I love that. Of course I don't know anything about anatomy, do you want to explain that to me, professor?

Astarion, Illario and Lucanis

They have killed more people than I should feel comfortable with.

"The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood." But they cradled me, yes?

They are trained assassins, and that raises some questions about my own morals.

Why do we kill?

What does it feel like to take a life?

What does it feel like to hold the weapon with which you snatch away the last moments of someone who was as human as you and me, who had desires, fears, aspirations, who didn’t want to die?

What kind of superiority do you think you have to do that and see your target as nothing more than a simple cockroach?

How can you sleep at night?

Do those thoughts torment you, or are your dreams sweet as if you hadn’t done anything wrong?

How do you decide that someone deserves to die, my love?

Would you kill me like you've killed so many if, in some way, you believe I deserve it?

Don’t you think the sins you see in others, in those you kill, are also your own?

I LOVE characters with complex morals, it's so sexy. Yes, baby, kill a few more, let's bathe in the blood of our enemies or anyone who opposes us, let's dance with their corpses, I love you.

I know they are flexible.

Astarion and Emmrich

A date in a cemetery? Sure! Wait, why am I excited to do it on a grave? Ugh, I hope this doesn’t awaken another weird fetish in me...

I can't stop thinking about blood and corpses in a way that's too pleasant.

Their sense of fashion is superior.

They always carry a brush with them, in case they get a little messy in the middle of a fight.

I think both of them can sew pretty well.

They have a strange desire to become some kind of superior being, and that could end very well or very badly.

There’s some strange necromancy here.

They love to read, and that's very cute.

Gale, Illario and Lucanis

Their long hair gives me years of life, I want to run my fingers through it, caress it, comb it, pull it, I love it.

Maybe I like their hair because it's like mine, but either way.

I love drawing them.

Thinking about them makes my brain jump in my skull.

I just want to take away all your pain.

They have been emotionally abused but they cannot recognize themselves as victims, because they feel love for their abuser and the abuser loves them in a horrible way, the way only a mother's love could twist you.

DEFINITELY MOMMY ISSUES.

(This becomes more complex thinking about the relationship between Mystra and Gale / Zara and Illario and Caterina but that needs a whole power point presentation).

Gale and Lucanis

Canonically, they are THE wife material.

They are soft and loving once you’re with them.

They know how to cook and do any domestic task you can think of.

The house/camp is always in perfect condition thanks to them.

They look at you like you are the most precious person in the world.

I want to get them pregnant.

They have the saddest, most puppy-like brown eyes that make you love them instantly.

Their face screams for kisses and affection.

I know that between your arms is the warmest place in the world and that I could fall asleep to the sound of your beautiful heart.

I would distract myself by running my hand through their beards and remove any white hairs I found (without them asking me to).

Lucanis wins points for speaking spanish but Gale also wins points because let's remember that he is a professor.

Astarion, Gale, Illario and Emmrich

Absolutely freaks in bed BUT they can be vanilla if you ask them pretty please.

Lucanis

This man is virgin and demisexual like me so I think I would feel extremely comfortable knowing that there is no pressure to do "it" and that he is a man who values ​​company beyond pleasure, calming one of my biggest insecurities.

Not saying the others here can't value company is just... Yeah just sex isn't for me now. And that has ruined many of my relationships. So it gives me more peace of mind to think that my lover can also be a virgin like me and none of us have that expectation.

I'm not saying that the others here would pressure me to do it either. I don't think any of them would. But I know that they can see it as something important in the relationship and there's nothing wrong with that.

Mph-mph.

Gale

He is MY wife.

I have his name tattooed on my arm like branded cattle and I love it.

I have 500 hours on Baldurs and I always start a game again just to hear him breathe.

His relationship with his ex wouldn't create insecurities in me because I already have them so nothing new.

I fear that this man has taken my expectations to a place that cannot be reached by "real" men and I will die alone bUT happy to have met a fictional character written as beautifully as him.

I want to fall asleep while he reads me a book.

He has a cat that talks and has wings, I love her.

I love men who just can't shut the fuck up.

I'm sure his mom would like me and you have no idea how important that is to me HAHAHA my mother-in-laws (except one) always hated me so I would like to feel welcomed in a home for one damn time.

I love him.

I can always like other characters but none as incredible as you, Gale.

[justbelievinginmagic]

BEWITCHED - part 1: we're not in munchkinland anymore.

pairing(s): witch!seonghwa x witch!reader ft. honjoong & san. mini-series summary: all your life you've had this spark - a touch of magic to your heart. as a munchkinlander, it was both a blessing and a curse. after all, two horrible witches had ruled over the land - all your life you had been asked: would you be a good witch or a bad witch? you wanted to be a good witch. and, finally, you would be! the day arrived; you were going to shiz university, the most-esteemed magical college in oz! you were prepared to work hard and make your dreams come true. but when you stumble upon cold bullies and an even colder sorcerer-in-training named park seonghwa who seemed to captivate you at every turn, will you be able to achieve your magical goals or will you fall under his spell? warnings/tags: inspired by the musical and movie adaptation of wicked, magical college AU, wizard of oz AU, set at shiz university, fem!reader, 3rd person POV, use of YN, set after a divergent-wicked timeline (where the wizard or a wizard still rules), magic, angst, some bullying, oz references and lore, use of ozian vernacular, nervousness, second-hand embarrassment, mentions of panties/corset, name calling. let me know if there are more tags needed. word count: ~4.5k

It had been known throughout Oz, for as long as the Time Dragon Clock tick-tocked, that the only place to become a grand sorcerer was Shiz University. Established, expensive, and exclusivatory, the university was known throughout the land as the cradle to success. Anyone who wanted to be anything went there – or to the Wizard to have their heart’s desire granted. But, of course, a meeting with the Wizard was rare. So, the only other option to success was hard work. Work hard to one day get to Shiz University.

Staring up at the ancient buildings of Shiz, YN couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration. She had made it. Spiraling towers, open-air patios, water canals weaving in and out of the architecture, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t in Munchkinland anymore.

A shoulder bumped into her, making her huff and stumble over the aged tiles. She righted herself with a small huff, a familiar zing in her chest making her pause and take a deep breath. That was the last thing she needed to happen. The bustling crowds of students surrounded her like a sea. Some in the perfectly-pressed navy-blue jackets and horizontal-striped uniform dresses of Shiz with the silver-stitched emblem proud across their chest. Others were like her, dressed in their best-to-impress as they entered the grand corridors of Shiz as a new student. It reminded her of stories of masquerades in grand ballrooms – their outfits were all so different and extravagant. Pinks of the lightest shades, deep-rubied vermillion, bright yellows, all in the strangest textures and designs. Far different from her own dress fabric but never the less fantasticamagical!

YN felt out of place like a lost air balloon amongst the clouds. Clinging to her luggage case, she took a tentative step away from the open-air waterfront. As she moved ever forward into the college, she realized just how different everything was here. The air was cool and humid; the sound of sea-salt water trickling between the canal-filled paths babbled; there was the smell of fresh-Ozma petals blooming on the large leaf-pads floating across the shimmering water. It was really nothing like Munchkinland, and its sprawling country-sides. There was no smell of Ozwheat-ground bread, of fresh upturned soil, fragrant tulips in every shade of the rainbow, or the towering blossom stalks of sweet-flowers.

It was strange.

Swallowing, she hugged her brown suitcase closer and continued to walk further into Shiz. The honey-soft yellow of the buildings was complimented by a once-royal, now-pastel blue in the awnings and in delicate hand-painted décor across the buildings. Sunshine flickered past the shingled rooftops to cast the center of Shiz in a golden glow. It was beautiful. A different beautiful than what she was used to, but an optimistic jingle in her heart said she could like it here.

Another person pushed past her purposely, and this time it sent her tumbling to the ground. A laughter grumbled from the crowd, surprised but cruel. A mean-looking girl with a pointy nose laughed as she crowed out, “Watch where you are going, little farm girl!”

“She’s used to being that low to the ground I bet,” another encouraged with a sneer.

YN’s face crumbled at the words. Eyes burning before her face flushed. All her things toppled across the bustling court-yard – her books scattered, her dresses tumbled, her keepsakes rolled. Her suitcase had broken open. The clasp was worn and old compared to the new fancy luggage the rich (but mostly their entourage) toted along, but she didn’t think it was that old.

Embarrassment burned more fervently than that spark in her chest. Her focus to split between the pain of in her knees, the hurt from their words, and the panic of needing to grab her things now.

YN didn’t understand their uttertodious rudeness. She wasn’t the first nor the last to attend Shiz as a Munchkinlander. She hadn’t expected the dirty looks, the cruel laughs, the cold whispers, the foul name-calling. How did they even know she was of Munchkinland? She wasn’t of Munckinland holy blood. She was no Eminent, nor of the upper-class. She was just… YN. Was that so offending? Was it her dress? Was that what they were whispering about behind their hands and falling into giggles? Was it hideoteous compared to the swankified fabrics of the upper-class? She didn’t think so. She had put on her prettiest – a dirndl-esque dress of a deep sapphire. Hand-embroidered vibrant poppies, delicate milk-flowers, and candy-chrysanthemums decorated the hem and décolletage. Fresh flowers decorated her pig-tailed hair; some had begun to wilt in the change of temperature, but they still were prettied pastel yellows, blues, and pinks.  Some of those petals now rested on the ground from her fall, crumpled.

She felt the burn flare like embers fanned by a wind. Her book pages rattled in a nonexistent wind unnoticed by the snickering students. Behind her, a man’s voice cleared itself, baritone and rumbly.

“Are you alright?” He asked beside her.

Oh, his voice so melodic it reminded her of the Lullaby League singers that would pass through Munchkinland during the holidays. It reminded her of honey being poured over fresh-bread, of warm summer nights in the fields, of a bed waiting for her to curl up in.  

Looking up at him, her breath was stolen. YN swore for a moment she saw a star, a wizard, a sorcerer, an otherworldly being. There, haloed in the light of the afternoon sun, was a man with hair as light as milk-flowers and a nose carved by an artist. His shapely lips pursed in a thoughtful yet neutral pout; his eyes were a dark shade of fresh-soil. And somehow, they twinkled with stars.

Or maybe her eyes were filled with hearts. She blinked. YN had never seen someone so beautiful. The burning spark in her chest faded with awe.

His hand outstretched to her after a moment.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, bleached brow raising faintly.

There was another blink of her pretty eyes before she was shaken from her stupor.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she insisted as she took his hand.

With ease, she was tugged to her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered, pink cheeked.

The figure was tall especially so with his heeled boots. His presence was one she imagined only the Wizard to embody. Peace, stoniness, wisdom. He struck her with wonder. His gaze flickered from her, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips disappearing at the sight of her dresses tumbling away, her books’ pages fluttering in the wind, and, mortifyingly, her panties tumbling from her luggage.

“Um,” he cleared his throat, chin nodding in their direction.

Red cheeked and mortified, she went to grab the frilly underthings before sliding to her knees once more to catch all of her belongings from blowing away. Laughter rang out as students rushed around her things. Someone stepped on her leatherbound book of the History of Shiz.

Her savior, her star, hadn’t bent at the knee to help. He simply watched on, glancing at the student who was cackling at the Munchkinlander’s humiliation.

“Seonghwa!” A cry from the side caught her attention as a red-haired man, shorter than the white-haired star that had helped her, rushed forward. His arm slung over the taller’s shoulders - despite their size differences. Seonghwa bent at the knee for him, letting the red-head adjust him ‘til he was comfortable half leaning on his counterpart.

“Your Highness,” Seonghwa replied.

Highness! Her face only seemed to grow hotter and hotter. She knew Shiz had the rich and royal but she didn’t expect to a royal highness to be watching her gather her intimates and shove them into her luggage today. If her face could burn any hotter, she’d be a furnace.

“Here.” A stray hand held out a blue nightgown her way, and she grabbed it with only the quickest glance.

Sweet Oz, was this entire school flooded with beauty? A strong-shouldered man in decorated regalia was kneeling down to offer more of her items her way. He had collected a handful in his arms - a book, another nightgown, her corset! Grabbing it quick, she thanked him under her breath as she pushed everything into her bag messily.

“Making the ladies swoon and lose their panties already?” the red-haired man teased.

The burn in her chest returned almost as if it could incinerate her away ‘til she was nothing but dust. She wished she could disappear. She didn’t even notice her fingertips fading away, disappearing as she accepted another book from the handsome knight. They sparkled a ghastly transparent shape, almost like she was part ghost. San’s eyes lingered on her hands for a moment, eyes widening. She didn’t even notice that as she shoved a balled-up sweater into the bag.

“She stumbled and fell on her own,” Seonghwa commented. His tone felt cooler than before, almost defensive.

“I was tripped,” she muttered under her breath as she placed the last of her things in her bag.

With the last thing safely tucked away and her bag firmly shut, the broad-shouldered man gave her a soft smile, charmingly so, before he rose and returned to the Star named Seonghwa and his Highness.

“No harm in swooning anyone; stop acting like it’s some scandalacious thing,” the red-head chuckled as he peered down at the Munchkinland woman. His hand rose to tilt his rose-tinted glasses down the fine bridge of his nose.

He winked at her, and her face nearly matched his crimson locks.

“We aren’t here to swoon, Prince Hongjoong. We are here to—”

“Study, yeah, yeah. You okay, miss?” This Prince Hongjoong’s smile, or well, smirk was deadly. Playful, seductive, charming, all wrapped up in one.

“She’s from Munchkinland; I’m sure she’s familiar with being in the dirt,” someone said from the crowd.

Snorts and giggles erupted around. It made her ears burn as she finally stood back on her own two feet, with no help from the strange trio in front of her. The only reassurance was that they didn’t laugh, well, much. Hongjoong giggled out a high-pitched thing as San whispered in his ear. It didn’t feel cruel, more jovial, but still her ego was bruised.

They were laughing at her.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly, trying to cling to her words’ truth as tightly as she clung to her luggage.

Water-chimes rang out; hummingbirds playing them to the tune of the Shiz University alma mater. Everyone’s heads turned; some exclamations of excitement rang out.

“Orientation time,” she heard a girl from behind her say. “We have to get a good seat, c’mon.” A trio of girls pushed past and soon everyone was heading in the direction of the quad.

Orientation… so that’s what those bells were all about. It felt so utterly strange to not know. Everything was so different here, no bell towers here. Everyone seemed to know what things were – even something as simple as orientation’s starting call. But with that, her disturberanceand bullies left in a herd of Ozians scrambling to the main courtyard of Shiz.

She sighed out watching their attentions shift. Like she was nothing but an ant. Momentary entertainment before they casted her aside. She didn’t know it was going to be like this when she left home. Humiliating. Teasing. They weren’t children – why did they act so childish?

After working hard in her classes, after studying day-in-day-out, after facing endless scribing of papers, and even after facing nay-sayers who would taunt her with the words, “are you a good witch or a bad witch?,” she made it here. And she wasn’t going to let some rich-snobs make her feel lesser. So, what she didn’t have money or status? So what she came from Munchkinland? She was going to make it for herself – live an Ozian dream.

Munchkins were simple-folk – small-minded some would say, but not her. No, she believed they were clever. Innovative. They were responsible for feeding Oz; they were the Ozwheat Bread Basket of the lands; their rainbow-tulips techni-colored Oz! That had to stand for something. She was something.

She deserved to be here. She made it. She did it. She was equal.

The burning flame in her chest eased as she reminded herself this, sighing out as color flooded back to her fingertips.

Following after the crowd, she noticed that the trio stayed near her. Hongjoong’s stance was lazy, half leaning on Seonghwa who stood tall as ever, towering over both him and the strong-shouldered man who had helped her.

None were in the standard uniform – did that mean they were freshman like her? The Prince’s attire wasn’t exactly sloppy but mismatched. Dark velveteen pants hugged his legs tight. Laced up black boots with far too many laces climbed up his calves. He wore an ivory-white button up with far too many buttons, far too unbuttoned to be appropriate. A cream suit-jacket-esque sweater rested overtop that. The pattern on it held delicate handstitched purple-flowers… maybe gillyflowers? Was he from Gillikin Country? Regardless, he wore a strand of pearls around his throat, haphazardly. His rose-tinted glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a large oversized blue suede fedora hat hid most of his vermillion hair.

Meanwhile, the two accompanying him wore more uniformed outfits. The broad-shouldered one wore a black-suited ensemble with golden embellishments. A cape draped over his shoulder in deep purple. The one who she thought came from a Star had all white linens on, sharp shouldered and corseted tight around his already lean waist. They looked more royal than the so-called prince.

“You’re staring,” Seonghwa stated, blankly.

His gaze caught hers solidly. His gaze was all-consuming. Like he could see right through her. Read her thoughts. Great Oz… she was both intimidated and intrigued by him. He felt magnetic. Her stomach clenched. He tilted his head.

“Sorry,” she blushed.

“Again.” he added, brow twitching into a sharp raise.

His expression made her feel little, like he was throwing her back to the floor metaphorically. Because, he just had to point out that he noticed her staring earlier. He probably thought she was a creep or some dumb farmgirl like the students cajoled.

“Sorry… again.” she said, finally glancing away from him and walking towards an empty spot on a bench instead. She shifted to hold her suitcase in her arms, hugging it close to her chest. The spark twinkled and she didn’t notice aura she put off. A physical manifestation of her magic. It was a gentle aura; something that was more felt and less seen. It felt like dark clouds were hovering around her. A bubble to keep her safe and hidden, subconsciously.

He didn’t stop looking at her still. She knew because she snuck a quick glance and, when their eyes met in that flash, her cheeks matched the red poppies on her dress. The one with the cape chuckled; his eyes flashing to meet hers once more with a playful gleam. He was laughing at her. Sitting down in an empty spot on a bench, she turned her face away to look down the row of students seated next to her. She offered a soft smile about to introduce herself to the one beside her before one after one they scooted away. Glancing at her like she was the plague. “She’s the Munchkin girl; no, no, she’s not of any royal blood – shes just a charity case – maybe she—” Gossip trickled out as the other students sitting there shifted and moved until she was the only one sitting there. An outcast.  

What in Oz was this place?! She knew it was exclusivatory but not like this. So hateful. She wrapped her arms around her suitcase. Her chin rested on top of it as she looked around, making sure not to look at Seonghwa… A third scolding? From him? She’d rather melt into a puddle.

Once everyone had been seated, there was a great hum of a tune – the same alma mater that had twinkled out in chimes to summon them. Some students sang out with pride, knowing every word despite it being their first day. She knew it too; she had read it in her history book. But she refused to embarrass herself anymore today. If she could get through orientation without drawing anymore attention to herself, YN would be content.

Her spark kept a small bubble around her as if telling the world to not disturb her. She heard someone murmur something about, “do you see that odd shimmer around the new girl?”

As if not everyone was new… she pressed her chin into her arms firmer. Orientation and then she can get settled and try to start tomorrow on a better foot.

“Welcome students!” cried out a fancy-looking woman approaching the podium. Her dress was swirling with ancient blue magic; her hat a sharp point upon her head. A sorceress, no, a Witch! YN’s eyes perked up and she gazed up at the Witch in wonder. A real-life witch… a Good Witch of the North! How oztastic.

“Welcome, welcome to Shiz University. I am Madame Ozma, Headmistress here. Whether you are here to study logic, literature, or linguification, I know I speak for my fellow faculty members when I say we have nothing but the highest hopes for… some of you,” it was said in jest and a chuckle waved through the crowd.

“While all subjects are valued here at Shiz, I do want to bring some attention to two very lucky, very talented students that will be joining my sorcery seminar this semester. As you all know – sorcery is the life blood of Oz, and it’s a blessing and duty to cultivate any magic talent that shows itself. As rare as it is. It’s been decades since there have been two students studying sorcery concurrently. Their powers brought into a new age – as we all know.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Everyone knew of the Wicked Witch and Glinda the Good.

“Such a gift should be celebrated.” Ozma exclaimed out. “Uplifted. Guided towards the Light”

There was a scattering of applause. Her cheeks were burning red once more. Her head tilted downwards. The letter hadn’t mentioned this. Good Oz, she wanted to hide.

“Please rise, Miss YN of Munchkinland.”

A silence washed over the crowd in shock. All eyes snapped to her. Hongjoong let out a laugh in the silence, the sound bursting forth from his chest without a care. Blink, blink, blink; she felt like she was an art display of exhibition. Could she just ignore it? What would happen if she didn’t stand? No one really knew if she was YN after all?

“Don’t be shy.” The Headmistress encouraged.

Oh, Great Oz… With poppy-tinted ears, she slowly stood, ruby-cheeked and tight-smiled. That feeling of magic tingled in her chest, fluttering as her anxiety grew. It wanted to burst out – protect her from the murmur that rose through the students. Gossip rolled in wave as they leaned into one another. Whispering what? She didn’t want to know.

“Thank you, dearie. And, rise Sir Seonghwa of Gillikin Country.” She beamed out, encouraging a round of applause once more.  

YN’s gaze flashed to where Seonghwa rose as well, waving polite and light. Unlike her, he held such an elegance she didn’t have. Of course, he had magic! Of course, he was a Knight! She was sure he could control it better than she could ever control her wild thing of a magic spark. And now they were going to have private lessons together? After his friends made fun of her? After school-wide ridicule? After he reprimanded her for staring! She wanted to crawl into a corn field and rot.

“Our two sorcerers-in-training,” she declared over polite clapping. “We will be seeing lots and lots of each other.” Madame Ozma promised her and Seonghwa before nodding and allowing them to sit. The Headmistress beamed at the students before shifting her attention to another professor who began to prattle about dormitories, their roommates, and where the halls were located.

Sitting down quick, she wished she could just sink into the ground. How was she going to stand being around him? She blushed if he even so looked at her. How would she focus?

-

Once orientation ended, it was like a stampede. The students shuffled and hustled around her, rushing towards the many faculty who were handing out keys to their dormitories and pointing on grand scrolls and proclaiming, “Yes, yes, Ms. Gale, you are in the North Dormitory. No, you can’t trade roommates. Yes, its permanent.” Overlapping and overwhelming, the world of Shiz was back in swing – the orientation a flurry of too many moments and moving bodies.

YN stayed on the outskirts of the chaos, peering through a navy sea of uniforms to peer up at the many scrolls, listing out name after name. She’s already embarrassed herself enough for today; she’ll wait ‘til the crowd dispersed she decided.

“There must have been a miscommunication,” she heard Seonghwa’s smooth voice like a siren’s call. She couldn’t help but have her eyes flicker towards him. How could she hear him so well? It was like her body was already in tune with him – he was so far away and yet she could pick him out of a crowd. He was a beautiful flower surrounded by weeds.

Seonghwa’s face was crinkled, divine confusion making his upturned brows

“This isn’t right,” he continued, raising a polite hand towards a faculty member. “The Gillikin Prince requested a private apartment – for himself, Sir Choi San, and myself. But I only see his Highness and San listed.”

“Name?” the bunny-faculty member chirped out.

“Park Seonghwa,” he told him.

There was a shuffling of papers, the rabbit-professor humming and bumbling.

“Ah, yes, yes,” the rabbit nodded, his mouth chittering a bit as he chewed on the edge of his pen. “I see – no, no mix up, Sir Seonghwa. Thank you.”

“Where is my dormitory then?” Seonghwa snapped, his tone sharp and authoritarian before he swallowed and followed it up with a soft ‘please’.

“With Miss YN, of course,” It wasn’t the rabbit-professor who spoke but the nearby Headmistress. She walked forward; the rabbit-professor bowed in her direction and Seonghwa followed suit, bowing his head politely.

“YN, dear,” Madame Ozma called, “Join us.”

Seonghwa’s gaze turned and met hers – because, of course, like two magnets their eyes found one another immediately. It felt like she was caught staring for the third time. Bumbling, YN nodded and stood with her suitcase, walking forward.

“Yes, Madame,” she called, curtsying and bowing and rushing forward to the Headmistress. “Honor to meet you.”

“What do you mean I am rooming with Miss YN?” Seonghwa redirected.

Nearby, she heard Hongjoong giggled out manically. “This is perfect,” the red-head commented.

“Hush, your Highness,” Seonghwa scolded over his shoulder with ease, not even glancing at the Prince. Too natural, too routine, like he knew where the Prince was at all times without even looking his way. The Prince still giggled, and surprisingly San joined him in his mischievousness.

“Yes, Seonghwa, you will be sharing an apartment with YN,” the Headmistress confirmed, her head nodding towards the Munchkinlander. “I thought that was made clear to you through our letters?”

Seonghwa’s head turned, almost like an owl, to stare down the chortling Royal and the smirking San.

“I must’ve missed that letter,” he replied slowly.

“As did I,” YN piped up. “I never received anything besides – well, besides entry into the school and your approval of joining the seminar.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” the Madame apologized, squeezing the arm of YN. “I will inquire my office about correspondence throughout Oz and where there were any mishaps.”

She nodded lightly before glancing towards Seonghwa who seemed so indifferent to her as he turned back to face the Headmistress. Like a statue, his facial features had settled into a calm, neutral glaze.

“However, I must apologize; there are not two room available for you both. There is only one apartment closest to my offices – I want to have myself available to you both as often as possible. Magical growth doesn’t happen overnight nor does it follow any class schedule,” she chuckled lightly. “The apartment is up to standards, one of the best if I do say so myself.”

The two sorcerers-in-training spoke over one another next.

“I don’t doubt that,” YN replied.

“It’s not about that!” Seonghwa exclaimed.

They locked gazes once more. The man swallowed, his Adam's apple jittering, before looking away forcibly.

Her face fell visibly. Was he so… disgustified by her that he couldn't even share a space with her? She was an adult. She wouldn’t be dirty or disrespectful as a roommate. She'd leave him be but with how he was acting - it was as if she was some lowly creature. He didnt even care if the apartment was the nicest ones on campus! She could only imagine its history and beauty and yet... he was acting so adamant.

“I am here as protection for his Highness,” Seonghwa stated whole-heartedly. “First-and-foremost.”

“I understand,” the Headmistress asserted. “His Highness, Prince Kim Hongjoong has written me most ardently over the summer requesting for his apartment to be furnished only for two – him and Sir Choi. He expressed his full support to your studies.”

At the new information, there was a flicker of dust whirling off of the sorcerer's bare skin; his honey skin glimmering as magic oozed from him. He rolled his tongue over his teeth before Seonghwa finally let out a huff of frustration. His perfect mask fell as he gritted his teeth.

“And I do,” Hongjoong drawled from behind them. He took a step forward, red glasses pushed into his hair as he looked at his friend earnestly. “Hwa, you’ve protected me your entire life – its time for your talent to grow.” It was said genuinely but Seonghwa’s anger, no matter how small buzzed and bubbled in the air. She could see his hair rise with static electricity just faintly. His magic was so reactive… just like hers.

She had never met another wizard or witch; only read about them. And to see his magic surging in a near invisible dust-like ember around him, the little tells of its reactions on his body, it felt like for once she had someone who would understand her.

If only he didn't despise her.

“There are no curfews,” the Headmistress reminded. “If you wish to stay at his Highness’ suite, no one will stop you. But I’m sorry; there are no other official accommodations I can provide.”

Seonghwa took in a deep breath through his nose before offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s alright, Headmistress. Thank you for the clarification. I’m sure me and YN will – we'll be fine. We will find a solution.” He stumbled over the right word.

She felt like he was already planning to sneak out of their dorm or distance himself from her as soon as the Headmistress floated away. He hadnt looked at her since she joined them.

“Very good. That's what I like to hear - my two sorcerers working together” The Headmistress beamed. Her magic blared out in a whirl of golden light with her happiness, looking like a living candle for a moment. “I do look forward to our lessons, but for now… welcome to Shiz.”

Yeah, what a welcome.

[transmcytshowdown]

Mumbo Jumbo:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Last Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Nonbinary, he/him

Propaganda: “[The submitter] think[s] trans Mumbo would be funny. Vote for him.”

“Guys. Guys. Mumbo Jumbo being a pathetic trans nonbinary he/they masc presenting guy. Being so proud of his moustache that he spends so long styling it every day. Wearing a suit everyday because it gives them the gender euphoria when wearing something so stereotypically 'masc'.”

Graaavel:

Submitted for: Exposure Craft

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/him

Propaganda: Is transmasc irl

Joel Smallishbeans:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

[earlycuntsets]

interview with frank, mikey and bob with mychemicalromanceforum.com 2006

interview was linked on the 2006 mcr website news (home) page

"The big forum interview with My Chemical Romance!

Reporters: Imre (poison amy) and Lisette (Lica) Bandmembers: Frank, Bob and Mikey Place: The Melkweg (Milkyway), Amsterdam, the Netherlands Date: Wednesday August 31st, 2005, 3.30pm

After a lot of stress and the prospect that the interview might be cancelled, it was finally time to go upstairs and meet the band. Two hours later than scheduled, but hey, they were there so we’re not complaining! Our palms were sweaty and our hearts were racing, but we managed to remain calm and behave like proper journalists instead of squealing fangirls.

L: Let’s start with our list! We’re already talking about messageboards so lets continue on that. Some people sometimes claim to be one of you when they are on forums or other websites, what do you think of that?F: I don’t understand it really, to me it’s kind of like that game the Sims, they’re spending so much time leading this fake life while they could be doing their own thing, and if your dream is to be in a band you should go out and practise instead of playing a video game or pretend you’re somebody else. It gets really creepy when those people do that and put out pictures of you and say a loved one or your dog. When they do that and then talk to other people on your behalf, that really angers me because we don’t know what they’re saying to other people and they might give advise and others might believe it. Internet can be a great thing, but it can also be a really evil thing. I: We have a rule against talking about your private life. F: Thank you. I appreciate that.Mikey: That’s a big problem with MySpace, because some of my friends actually are on MySpace and they get messages, I don’t know how they knew that my friends are on there, but these are people that aren’t even in bands and they would get messages from ‘me’ on MySpace. It’s really weird. I: They know everything. Trust me. Bob: That’s ridiculous. F: I’m still a huge fan of music, but when I was a fan of a band I would never ever be that intrusive. You know what I mean, to go as far as walk on someone’s bus and sit down and go through someone’s things, or try to steal something… I: There was one girl last week, she was at one of the shows in London and she was proud that she ripped something off your arm! F: [sad tone] Yeah, yeah… I: She was bragging about it all over the internet. F: I know… L: How do you feel about these things? F: You know, it’s weird. *thinks* I don’t know how I feel about that. I definitely know that when I was at shows I would bring a souvenir home, but it wasn’t someone’s personal property, it was a flyer or something like that. It’s weird if you wanna go into the crowd thinking ‘am I gonna come out with everything?’ L: Are you nervous when you see a large crowd? Are you worried then? F: No! Well, no, I mean, it depends. There’s a bunch of different type of fans. You know, there’s people who just wanna say I love you, love your show, and that’s awesome. They respect the music and the art form. And then there’s some people that need to have that souvenir, that need a signature or a picture and there’s some that just scream and try to pull your hair out and that’s ridiculous and then there’s the drunk fan that wants to be the one that punched you. Unfortunately for the people that just wanna say hi or the people that just want an autograph, sometimes they get flooded because the bad apples are so loud or with so many. It sucks to make people wait outside for hours before you leave because I don’t wanna weed out the bullshit, you know what I mean, the teenie ‘oh wow the new N’Sync is an actual band’ you know that’s a terrible thing, but you try to do more good than bad.

L: How was it for you Bob, when you joined the band they were already on their way to become very successful, how was it for you to step into a band that was already on their way? Bob: When I first started it wasn’t really sure that… Well, I don’t think anybody thought that it was gonna be this successful. When I first started it was still in the van, playing shows for like a hundred people. It wasn’t like this when I first started. As far as the kids being crazy, obviously they *nods towards Frank and Mikey* get it a lot more, but it’s just strange for me. L: Well, you’re completely accepted on the forum, everybody loves Bob, they have it in their signatures. *grins* F: How could you not love Bob?!

I: When you started out, did you ever imagine being nominated for 4 VMA’s against Green Day?F: No, not at all! I: How crazy is that?! F: Pfff! It’s flattering.M: It was a great experience. The whole thing.F: I’m still reeling from it. I’m really glad it’s over. I: Were you nervous? F: Oh god, yeah. I definitely threw up before.M: You can see me biting my nails on camera. Every time they were showing Jamie Fox you can see me right behind him biting my nails a lot. I was really freaked out.F: It’s one of those things where.. Growing up I didn’t get to watch them all the time, but I saw bands like Nirvana play it and Guns’n’Roses. So just to be there and think of all the things that happened on that show and to actually play it, it was ridiculous. I: Because of the MTV awards you had to do the two festivals in England on the same day, how was that? Were you nervous doing those shows? B: It was tiring really. F: It was very tiring, yeah. And again, we kept like thinking of people that played it before. You know what I mean. I’m definitely keeping the two passes and I’m gonna frame them. It was rad. To do Reading and Leeds and especially on the same day, it was crazy! B: We were supposed to fly to Leeds and we couldn’t get on a bus and go to Reading, because we wouldn’t have enough time to set up, so we were supposed to take three helicopters and I was so psyched about that! I was so excited! It would have been so awesome to fly on a helicopter! But then something happened with the weather at Reading and they wouldn’t let the helicopters get that close to so many people, so we just took a plane. L: So the helicopter experience still has to take place. B: Yeah. We’re gonna do it one of these days. I don’t care, even if it’s on a day off, we’re taking a helicopter ride! L: Are you a thrill seeker? B: I … *thinks* Kind of. I guess so. F: As long as it’s got something to do with helicopters or motorcycles or black vans, that kind of stuff. I: You wouldn’t go horseriding on the beach. F: *laughs* I don’t think he’s that horseriding-on-the-beach type of guy. B: No. I wanna go skydiving one of these days. F: I’m not!!! I: Why not? F: If you’d asked me a couple of years ago to do it, I’d go ‘yeah, fuck it!’ but now I’m just too happy. You know what I mean? I: You don’t need that. F: Yeah! I don’t need to do that.

Then suddenly Bob exclaims: What is wrong with these people?! *reads from book* What would happen if you saw Mikey walk into the bathroom with another toaster? Signed: Bob Bryar’s official bitch.M: It wasn’t a toaster, it was a heater. I was putting a space heater in the bathroom when I was sick or something. I brought this heater into the shower so it was warm when I got out. It’s not the smartest thing in the world to do, but I was like ‘whatever, I’m fucking freezing’, but apparently they turned it into a toaster.. L: But you were fine. M: Yeah, I’m here right now. *all laugh*

L: For the video from The Ghost of You, you guys have your hair really smooth. We understand how you get your hair like that, but we were wondering how did they get Ray’s hair totally smooth? How much stuff did they put in there?F: You’ll see it on the making of the video, he has like these two little buns. B: Did they flat iron his hair too? F: They did something. It was all flattened out. It was all bundled together in this little fist of a bulb, so they could only shoot him from the front and part of the side. It was crazy. He was gonna cut his hair and we were all like ‘no don’t do that!!’. I: Did he ever tried to hide objects in his hair? To smuggle them inside? F: Hide objects in it? He might. B: *thinks* I don’t think so. *All giggle*

I: Another question they asked is: if your tourbus driver got ill, who would you trust to drive it?F: Bob. I: Yeah? Why? F: Cos he’s done it before. B: It happens a lot when you have to move a bus. When I used to tour with other bands, our drivers would just be like ‘hey, you wanna drive?’ and then I’d drive for like 1000 miles. L: It’s cool to drive something that big, isn’t it. B: Yeah, I like to drive and being on tour you never get to drive anywhere. If you’re not in a bus you’re in a cab or if you’re not in a cab you have somebody else driving you, so you know I take every opportunity I get to drive.

L: If you could describe your life so far in 5 words, what words would you choose?M: Tiring, wonderful…F: Surprising, uhm, definitely tiring… B: Red Bull. I: Hey, that’s two words! B: Oh sorry! *laughs* F: Coffee. B: There you go, coffee. Fun! (All at the same time) Proud. F: Prun! *grins*M: Yeah. B: How about proud-fun? I: We’ll make that a new forum-word! B: Prun.

I: Have you ever read any of the fanfictions people write about you? *guys laugh* M: My friends sent me one once. It was creepy! My friends are interested in all that stuff, so they all sit online and send it to each other and laugh. And then one of them emailed one to me and it was something really fucking out of hand.F: I heard Mikey’s hot for me. I: The hottest couple is you and Gerard actually. F: Oh really? We’re the hottest couple? B: That’s amazing. I: That’s actually one of the most active parts of the forum, the fanfiction section. F: Wow! That’s crazy. My god… (kind of unsure) Well, if that’s what gets you hot, go for it.

L: Do you have something with you when you go out on stage, like a lucky thing? B: High fives. F: Yeah we do, like high fives before we go on stage. I don’t think there’s any charm I have.. I think it changes like I’ll have something for a time that I feel is lucky, but then it’ll probably break or something and you get something new… Like these shoes *everyone looks at Frank’s feet* are lucky I think. None of it’s really lucky at all of course. *thinks* I have these dogtags that I wear a lot, but I can’t wear them on stage because it hurts my neck. I: Yeah and someone might steal them! F: Yeah that’s it, but I wear them all the time, except when I’m playing.

L: Yeah, you go crazy on stage and sometimes you’re lying on the floor, how are you able to play like that?F: You get used to it, like with anything. When we’re playing a new song, like right now we’re playing a new song. Well, not new new, but new for us because we haven’t played it in so long, so ah, we’ll play eh *looks at Bob* should we tell them? *Bob nods* Alright, we’re playing Jetset tonight and I’m not used to playing that song, so I’ll just stand there and make sure I hit every chord. L: So you’re not going crazy. F: *laughs* No, but you know what I mean like it’s hard because I get into it and I would do it, but at the same time if it’s so new I can’t. Once I’m comfortable with it I can do whatever I want. I: Is there a favourite song when you play? All: Prison! F: Yeah, Prison is like a band favourite. B: Yeah we like to play that. It’s become the song that when we need to play something for a soundcheck we pick that. I really like playing Jetset too though. I: Why didn’t you put it in the set before? F: We’ve never played certain songs, I mean like never ever played them. I think Jetset was one of those until we were like ‘yeah lets finally get this out’. We had about five songs to pick from for the headline tour, some older stuff that we haven’t played in a really long time and there’s this song called Cubicles that we’ve never played. I think you guys played it (to Mikey)…M: Yeah we’ve played it on a couple of shows.F: But I’ve never actually played it. I: It must be nice to do a different set. F: Yeah! You know it’s fun to be doing something that you haven’t played in a really long time because it puts a spin on things and it kind of challenges you.

L: Most places have a very active local music scene, do you ever go to a band of the local music scene when you’re in a city?F: I would love to if we had a second off, but we never do.L: And back home in New Jersey, do you go there to local shows? F: Yeah, if we’re home for a while and there’s a show going on, I’ll go see it. But it’s hard because we do this for a living and I mean we love what we do and we love music, but sometimes the last thing we wanna do is go to a show. It has to be a really good show, you know what I mean. I: Yah, but it must also be part of your job to keep up to date about new bands. F: Yeah, well we tour so much and we hear so many things from different people, I mean I found out about a lot of different bands from just kids. It kind of keeps you in your favourite scene, you know. And we get demos all the time.

I: A few weeks ago I interviewed the singer from HIM, Ville, and he told me he had been talking to you guys about maybe touring together.F: That would be cool. Yeah. He’s a great guy. He’s really nice. I: I know! *grins* F: I think that would rule. To me, HIM are kind of like the European Bon Jovi. That’s what I get when I listen to them.

Sadly the girl from the record company interrupted us by saying it was nearly time and we could ask one last question. Lica asked it. L: About the second I’m Not Okay video; it starts off with Ray and Gerard sitting there and Gerard says: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna… What does he wanna do? F: Ok, the original line was: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna rock! And we didn’t like it. If you keep an open end you can make it whatever you want it to be, you know. The rest of that, the whole opening scene, was written out. It was scripted and we were like ‘this isn’t really working’ so Ray actually re-wrote everything. Everything you hear in the video, other then ‘I just wanna’ is something that Ray wrote maybe ten minutes before we shot it!

Then the girl from the record company came back inside to tell us we really needed to wrap it up and Frank practically begged her to do two more from the book, like he suggested when we started out. Bob flips through the book. B: Bam! *points* All time favourite sad song? M: the Smiths – Asleep. That’s the fucking saddest song ever. B: That Jimmy Eat World song off of that show.. F: Angel song? B: Yeah. F: Oh yeah. Ah, geez, Angel Angel. Oh, right, ready? *flips through book again* F: When you guys stop and think about how you ended up where you are now, do you feel really lucky and jump for joy, or do you don’t give a damn at all? *laughs* I think we are the luckiest people in the whole fucking world. B: We’re very proud of ourselves! F: To be able to say that, you know, you’ve accomplished goals, that you set for yourself so long ago and this is awesome you know, like to be on tv or on the radio – fuck the radio and tv! To hear kids in different countries or different states sing along to songs that you wrote in your basement is the most surreal experience that you’ll ever have. And to have it mean something to people you never thought you would ever meet. That right there is the most amazing thing.

We had a minute to go on a picture with them and say goodbye. Frank told us that he really appreciated what we are doing for the band and thanked us for everything by giving us both a very tight hug. As you can probably imagine, we high on adrenaline for the rest of the day. The guys were lovely and very happy to see that all of you had posted so many questions for them. Thank you forum members, and thanks My Chemical Romance for making this all happen!

Second group pictureSaying goodbye and packing our stuffLast minute chattingFrank telling us how much he appreciate the work we're doing on here"

interview with frank, mikey and bob with mychemicalromanceforum.com 2006

[youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal]

Something about Soren not being able to initially believe that Terry is complimenting him breaks me.

We don’t see him get compliments too often in the show. Especially in Arc 1, he’s belittled by Viren more often than not. Yes, he acts cocky and confident. He knows he’s super strong and great at most tasks associated with being a Crownguard (whether he thinks he’s actually a good Crownguard is a whole other mini essay, but I digress). But that’s all more like a task, something easily measured objectively. And it’s something totally different to be told that you’re good at those things by the people around you, or to be complimented on other things about yourself.

The biggest instances I can think of include:

Corvus calling Soren the mastermind of the plan to get Ezran out of Katolis. Soren immediately makes a joke out of it.

Ezran: you’re the best Crownguard a king could ask for. *hugs him* Soren: *cue shocked silence, followed by literally running away from the situation*

Everybody laughing at his comedy routine (not exactly a direct compliment, but similar in nature in my opinion). He actually accepts this pretty well, but it’s also something he’s been rehearsing and is proud of and is expecting a good reaction to. He even says thank you to the crowd.

“Well, if your sword is as sharp as your wit, then the young king is in good hands.” “Wow, but, thank you. Uh, dragons are SO nice.” He gets super sheepish about this and then in turn compliments dragons. One of the few times he’s okay at accepting a compliment, yet he still turns it around to make it about others.

“Soren, you’re amazing!” “Smort Longpocket is amazing.” Deflecting. Enough said.

“A good man with a big heart.” He gets so overwhelmed he can’t even verbally respond and just has to hug Corvus.

And now. The big/most complicated/messiest one. Viren in season 6. “Oh, you’ve grown so much. You’re so strong, so true to your heart. Your good heart. Somehow… you found the right path, in spite of everything I’ve done. I’m so proud of you.” “What are you trying to do?… Stop it! Just - just stop it! I know who you are. You’re dangerous. Everything you’re telling me is… is some kind of lie! And I’m not going to let you manipulate me again!” “It isn’t a lie, son, please.” There is so much to unpack here, but I want to focus on two big things: Viren compliments both his heart (aka Corvus’s compliment) and his strength (aka Terry’s future compliment). Soren’s gut instinct is to believe that Viren is lying. No deflecting, no avoiding the compliment. Straight up accusing him of more manipulation. Which is completely fair, when that’s all he’s ever known from Viren. So what does that mean for Corvus’s compliment, when it so closely echoes something Viren says? Was he lying, too? But it’s Corvus. He would never. So, of course, this would lead to some Big Feelings Time. (We Were Born the in the Valley/ Of the Dead and the Wicked on AO3 delves into this topic a bit and I think about it SO often. Of course, season 7 adds even more to the idea.)

*If there are other examples please remind me! I’d love to work them into my thoughts.*

Anyway, back to my point. He doesn’t seem to accept compliments very well and doesn’t know how to react to them a lot of the time. From resorting to physical affection, making a joke, or deflecting the compliment, Soren just does not seem to know how to handle people being nice to him. Because, ya know, childhood trauma and a father that was emotionally abusive. He’s used to lies and manipulation and any “compliments” having an ulterior motive.

So here comes Terry. Someone who has also been a bad guy. Who is trying to reform. Soren sees a lot of himself in him (peep the whole speech about abandoning Claudia).

And… he’s nice? And kind? And doesn’t seem evil? But of course, Soren is apprehensive and expects the worst, unsure if people can truly change.

“No, I don’t trust him. Nobody is this charming and, and nice. Nuh-uh.”

This is both an insult and a compliment, yet Terry just takes it in stride, not even hesitating:

“Thanks! You seem great too. Very strong and very, uh, loyal.”

A compliment for Soren? Echoing something Viren said? Oh, that must mean it’s manipulation.

“Ah-ah, I know this trick. You’re just buttering me up.”

I’m pretty sure the last time “buttering something up” was mentioned in canon was likely season 2 (if I’m wrong please somebody correct me), when Soren and Claudia are attempting to get Callum and Ezran back to Katolis. And it includes Soren straight up lying to them. “I know this trick” because he recognizes it, he was raised with it, he has used it before.

Now, we never see Soren’s eyes shift. But in the background he’s sure to see Corvus looking at him encouragingly. Corvus, who somehow has so much hope even in the darkest of times and believes in the best of everyone. Who knows people can change for the better because he’s seen it happen. With Soren. (@stuck-in-jelly made a GREAT post about Corvus and his optimism the other day. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and it inspired this bit of analysis.)

“But thank you. I kind of needed to hear that today.”

Soren relents. He accepts the compliment. He admits that he needs support, which we know is difficult for him. After he says thank you, the screen cuts to Corvus looking at Soren like he puts the stars in the sky every night.

I like to think that Corvus helped him talk through some of those thoughts and struggles he had after his conversations with Viren. We know they share a lot with each other.

Overall, throughout the series Soren has not been great at receiving compliments. But it seems like he’s got people around him trying to help him see how great he genuinely is. Hopefully in Arc 3 Soren gets ALL OF THE COMPLIMENTS and actually believes them, too.

[m00ngirl777]

Feeling Loved by Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

kiss number...9

“Sorry I kept you waiting, gorgeous,” With the gentlest of movements he grabbed your chin and pulled you in to kiss your lips, so softly but with an underlying hunger. The boy you had fallen in love with a little over five years ago, when you first met in Germany, was someone you will always hold so dear in your heart, in the purest of ways, but the young man he grew into, the man that learned how to kiss your mouth and cunt, to fuck both of them so perfectly, to hold you down and wide open, to pose you to take his cock as he pleased, who became a little more selfish with his needs but never dared to neglect yours, the man in front of you, with his soft kiss giving you a taste of that pure boy he used to be, but letting you know with his wandering hand so familiarly finding place in your tit, that he has grown into so much more, that was the man you needed to shatter you and put you back together with his touch, because he was the only one that could. 

summary: Smutty, body worshiping, eating out, by the fireplace, storm outside, older peter and reader, baby girl and boy need each other so bad, he's yours, your his and that's on god bby.

A/N: forgive me father for I have SINNNNEEEEDDDD, JESUS CHRIST, im so sorry for tormenting you with this, hope you love it, im actually kinda proud, I did make Peter a little different, I imagine them being like 20, and I feel like, you know when spiderman comes out, Peter gets more confident and bold, and ykkkk, I feel like as he grows into his skin and body, and basically goes through a second puberty after spiderman, waling into his 20s, he just becomes this like very sweet but confident guy, who's not afraid to call his girl HIS, and be possessive and demanding, and dirty, I love him, can you tell??? anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333

tw: smutttttt, sex, raw, no protection, oral, riding, alcohol, like one mention.

wc: 4066

_ _ _

You craved it.

In the very quiet of your floor, where you found yourself in the soft carpet of you living room, wearing nothing but the red lacy set he liked and a soft robe, lying on top of a velvety blanket, captivated by the fire place. There was no light expect for that of the fire and other rose and vanilla scented candles placed through out the living area, the strong rain constant and the soft thunder rumble, setting an undeniably rousing mood. Everything so perfectly set for him to fuck you out, that’s why you didn’t even bother to contain the fact that you were aching for him to finally show. 

Earlier you had shared a beautiful meal and exquisite dessert, still he had a duty, and made a promise to make it back in no time to give you all of his attention, a couple hours passed and surely he was back, currently found himself in the shower, washing away the city, while you shed the soft robe you used to shield you from the cold, finding yourself in this position, waiting, craving, aching, longing, yearning. Call it what you want, you needed him to fuck you well into tomorrow.

At once he came out of the room you most often than not shared, in a slutty pair of grey Calvin’s you remember getting him, that allowed you to see how excited he could get before even getting out of them, and a pair of socks, he knew that was his version of the little red matching set he just now discovered you in. You sat up from the cushion you had been lying on watching the fire, as he walked. You grabbed the lonely glass of wine that was at your side, and sipped it, never losing sight of him, once he towered over you he got down and sat right in front of you, he grabbed the long forgotten glass of red, sipped it and stretched to placed it at a safe distance, the ripples of his muscles on display as he moved, full of grace. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting, gorgeous,” With the gentlest of movements he grabbed your chin and pulled you in to kiss your lips, so softly but with an underlying hunger. The boy you had fallen in love with a little over five years ago, when you first met in Germany, was someone you will always hold so dear in your heart, in the purest of ways, but the young man he grew into, the man that learned how to kiss your mouth and cunt, to fuck both of them so perfectly, to hold you down and wide open, to pose you to take his cock as he pleased, who became a little more selfish with his needs but never dared to neglect yours, the man in front of you, with his soft kiss giving you a taste of that pure boy he used to be, but letting you know with his wandering hand so familiarly finding place in your tit, that he has grown into so much more, that was the man you needed to shatter you and put you back together with his touch, because he was the only one that could. 

“So rude of me,” he kissed along the edge of your jaw, “to leave you sitting here, in this perfect little outfit,” the hand moved into the small of your waist, squeezing just tight enough, it was becoming hard to breath, “how much do you want me, baby?” he whispered in your ear, grazing his lips along its curves.

“So much, baby,” you pressed your forehead against his temple, it came out a little whinier than you had wished, but he did leave you here waiting, a couple of hours, for your thoughts to wonder all by themselves. He kissed the spot on your neck that sent shivers down your spine and straight into your cunt, you could already feel it, slowly dripping, just thinking about all he might do to you, with you, for you. He breathed in, his grip tighten slightly. Something else that had grown with time was his control, specially over his extraordinary abilities, those senses of him, had developed into those of a hound on steroids, making you the most vulnerable and helpless of preys, because he knew exactly what to do, to get you exactly where he wanted to. 

“Prove it,” Asshole, anyway you did, waisting no time, you pounced on him, capturing his lips, balancing yourself holding on to his upper back, his hands never stopping their wanders, he now sat with his legs stretched and you straddling them, the lacy material of your garments, and the cotton of his, a barrier between you, still he could feel the heat emanating from you. Every time you pressed yourself further to him, he could feel your pulsing cunt, involuntarily clenching around nothing, getting wetter by the second, just by a simple kiss and caress. He pushed you away, ever so softly and gave your body a good look, the goosebumps in your skin, the plumpness of your breasts threatening to spill out of the lacy bra, the matching thong rising up your wet pussy, giving him the perfect outline of your lips, as much as he loved the view he loved it even more when it was only you, bare, for him, you saw that pleading look in his eye, and slowly you unclasped the bra, teasingly letting it fall with your movements, when it was halfway down your arms Peter got impatient and decided to drag it off and throw it somewhere instead, your tits sitting so perfectly on your chest, he could not deny himself and neither could you, to grab them by the handful and bring them into his mouth, he took turns sucking, pinching, flicking and biting at the perky nipples, all you could do was lean into it, you arched your back and steadied yourself, placing your hands behind you, resting them on his meaty thighs, you chewed on your lower lip and closed your eyes, letting him continue the abuse to your breasts as he pleased, slightly trembling and letting out a throaty noise here and there. Slowly but surely he trailed back his kisses to your neck, leaving his hands to massage out whatever sore he had caused your breasts.

“I want you to suck my dick…please,” The please was simply for your amusement, the way he said it, the tone he used, left no place for denying. You just nodded as his request, a light patheticness to how dumb you’ve turned with simply foreplay.

He completely handled you, like you would a doll, and pushed and lifted you to kneel in front of him, he mirrored it, kneeling in front of you, and kissed you, stronger, hungrier than he had done last. He pulled away and effortlessly stood up, his bulge and growing wet spot on full display, damn those Calvin’s. You wasted no time, you wrapped your hands on the outer meat of his thighs and pushed him a little closer to you, you kissed around the bulge, blindly and still expertly trailing from the confined base, to the tip, eliciting the lowest, throaty sounds, and ragging his breath. After a moment, seeing how his dick got impossibly hard, the wet spot darkened and his member pulsed involuntarily, finally you decided to free him and hook supple fingers to his waist band, quicker than not, Peter grabbed your hands and bent over slightly to bring them to his lips, kissing your knuckles, and dropping them back down.

“You know better than that, gorgeous,” The gruff on his voice went straight to your cunt, once again you placed your hands on his thighs, and pulling him a little closer, you bit down on the waistband, craning your neck, you looked up into his eyes, and pulled down. Peter made a sound when his cock was finally on full display, and you're almost sure so did you. Never taking your eyes off his, you licked a strong line from one of his balls to just before getting to his tip, and repeated the same with the other, still just grabbing his thighs to seize him, you kittened licked around the head, never touching his tip, making his dick bounce with every flick of your tongue, he whined at the lack of stimulation, with his senses at a thousand percent too little or too much were actual torture for him, he usually lets you do your thing, doesn’t interfere, but tonight he was just extra in need, not unlike yourself.

“Please, baby, don’t tease me, please,” he placed a soft hand to the side of your hair, tangling in all the way to the back, you didn’t know if the manner meant to be begging or threatening, but softly he massaged the spot. You also thought it was enough, there was something very confronting about having him so desperate and so heavy on your mouth, you slowly brought him in and deep, still teasing, now using his thighs as an anchor you moved your head, bringing him in bit by bit, your goal for his head to lightly touch the back of your throat, but it seemed he couldn’t restrain himself and pushed all the way back, you gagged strongly in surprise and both of you pulled away. 

“S-sorry baby, please, I’m so sorry,” You let out a soft chuckle at how his body betrayed his gentleman, at last you thought he deserved it, you placed you hand at the base of his dick and brought the tip inside your mouth, violently sucking, the moans he was letting out were loud and proud, now both hands on your head, but simply resting there, giving you an idea, of just how deserving your boy was. After a good minute of truly giving him head, you pulled away, letting him catch his breath, your own hands left his thighs and brought them up to the back of your head, where both of his hands, that could break your skull with no effort, maintained the gentlest touch, and rested them on top of his. Once he had partially caught his breath, again you brought him in your mouth, your hands pushing his, to push your head, once settled deep, you found his wrists and wrapped your fingers around them, now pulling them, the way his fingers were tangled in your hair made them pull your head back, after a moment of these commotions, he seemed to understand, you dragged your hands back to now the front of his thighs and let him fuck your face, because he deserved it. He tried to be so gentle, but giving him all this pleasure, all this freedom, he pushed your head back and forth a little carelessly, letting out the most pornographic sounds with no shame, he was feeling so much so intense, he constantly had to restrain, his strength, his stamina, his intelligence, his desires, so when you so freely let him fuck your face, he spiraled into it. Soon enough he was close so, so close, you knew he was about to come, because he completely stilled your head, rubbing your temples, now just moved his hips instead, you knew he would leave you so very sore, at once he settled on the back of your throat, letting out deep moans form his chest, pulling your hair back using it to push you further into him, letting you to grasp at his thighs and breath through your nose, eyes tightly closed, threatening to spill more tears.

“Oh my God, baby,” he slowly pulled himself out of you, and kneeled back down, pulling you to him, wrapping himself around you. After a moment he kissed the side of your face, “fuck…thank you, baby…fuck, sorry,” he said, into your cheek.

“How are you? Was that too much? How do you feel?” he cupped your face and looked into your eyes, wanting to make sure how you were after the abuse he put your mouth through. 

“Soaking wet,” He almost came again, instead he pulled you in to kiss your lips, so much different from the first kiss you had shared a little bit ago. He pushed you back, laying your head on a soft cushion on the floor, he felt around every part of your body, from your thighs, to your hips, waist, ribs, breasts, shoulders, arms, and hands, never pulling away. His hands traveled back down pulled off your soaked lace, gave it a good smell and threw it aside, he intertwined your hands and pulled them up over you head and continued kissing you, slowly trailing down to your neck. Weakly, you wrapped your legs around his torso and pulled him closer to you, his hands freed from yours and slowly dragged his fingertips up and down your arms, now going back to taking turns between your breasts, again all you could do is let him. After a little bit, he dragged himself further down, he placed his hands on each your breasts and kneaded them going back to kissing your lips, very briefly, he pulled away and leaned back he was face to face with your chest, his hands still at your tits, he leaned down, as you took in a deep breath he, so, so lightly dragged his lips from the top to the bottom of your sternum, such a strange thing, but it made your whole body react, making you arch inwards and shiver slightly, he did it once more and planted a soft kiss right in the middle, before, with the same technique, dragging his lips all the way to your Venus bridge, this shiver now so much stronger, the arch deeper but now the other way, with a gentle hand he pushed you down before wrapping both around your thighs, spreading you as open as you could go. 

He watched with hunter eyes, how your pussy sobbed for him, he could see the soft dripping every time it pulsed, beggingly, so naturally he started there. With the tip of his tongue he collected your mess from your lowest hole, flattening through your perineum, before so lightly dipping the tip in his favorite hole of yours, flattening again on the way to your clit, letting it have just a taste of his tongue, he repeated that two more times, still just using the tip of his tongue he circled it around your clit, not touching the bud, just the edges around it, making you tremble every time he got closer. At this point you didn’t bother trying to form words anymore, if you could, you would’ve already screamed at him to properly lick your pussy, so you just made all types of sounds, hoping he’d understand. After feeling like he had put you through enough torture he decided to slightly reward you, he quite literally started to make out with your cunt, properly frenching it. He dipped his tongue, molded his lips to yours, from your entrance to your throbbing pearl, loving the stimulation it got from this particular way, but still being to short lived to get you anywhere. You could not take it anymore, it had been at least five minutes of this torture. 

“P-ple…please! Please!” you cried out, “suck my fucking clit Peter!” be careful what you wish for, with not a single falter he wrapped his lips around the pretty button and sucked hard, making you groan out your moans straight from your core, your hand pulling his hair, your heel digging into his back, your other hand pushing you up to fold into yourself as you felt the band in your lower tummy about to snap, so fucking close, he sucked and sucked like he did your tits, both his hands on your ass, lifting you slightly, he softly grazed his teeth against it with every suck, and you closed your eyes, frowning and your mouth hanged open, so fucking good, so intense, and just as you were about to come, so gone. 

“Uurghh! Ah!” you gasped, completely baffled at what had just happened, “Peter what the fuck, I was about to come, shit!” you almost sobbed, Peter put both his hands on the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart, not letting them rub yourself out if it, all you could do was convulse and hiss at the sudden loss, and whine a lot, defeated you fell back into the soft cushion, “fuuuckk,”

“You never said make me come,” He thought he was so fucking clever, you didn’t even respond, you just closed your eyes and folded your arms over your face, catching your breath. You felt as his hands left your thighs and circled around your hips, rubbing the bone there, kissing your inner thighs, you jolted up your arms holding yourself up at your sides as he placed his tongue flat to your clit and shook his head, you gasped and whined at the sudden touch, he had left you so sensitive from your denied orgasm, you knew it would come any second, you moved your hips, grinding against his tongue, crying out pathetically, and finally you burst, you kept moving and so did Peter as you reached your peak, making the most absurd noises, finally you let yourself fall back trying to regulate your body, but Peter continued his laps, licking and licking your clit like it was chocolate covered gold, and he was a starving poor man, so weak from your denied and achieved orgasms, what could you do but cry, until he got his second batch of milky sweet nectar from your pussy, this time you jolted away from him, if you hadn’t he would’ve most definitely continued. After pushing him away, exhausted you rolled face down and pulled the blanket you were laying on to cover you. Peter spooned your trembling body and helped you get the soft blanket over your bodies, holding you in his strong arms, he stroked your hair back and enjoyed the soft moment, complete oppose from his rock hard dick pressing against your ass, you knew what he wanted, you just really needed a moment.

“You’re so hard,” You whispered. 

“Don’t worry about that,” He coaxed you to stay in your post orgasmic bliss, not wanting to make you jump back into action so quickly. You turned around anyway and cuddled into his front, swinging a leg over his hip pressing yourself to him, he let out a breathy sound at the action and let his face find shelter in the crook of your neck. So, very softly, you started to move your hips back and forth, your lips and his shaft rubbing against each other, he tightly wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you flush to him, his face completely buried in your neck, your hand stroking the back of his head, now your turn to coax him into a less calm kind of bliss, but just as delicious. He would make the prettiest sounds here and there, so soft, when rubbing harder or on a spot you hadn’t, he couldn’t help himself and just softly moaned. 

“I ne- uh… I-I, argh…baby, please,” His voice was slightly muffled by the skin of your throat, but you understood, you further leaned into him, pushing him back, until you were on top of him, he threw his head back and placed his hands on your hips, and you placed yours on his chest. You lifted yourself up, and searched for his lips, placing a soft but deep kiss in them, once you were satisfied, you reached one of your hands back, to align him to your entrance, and sunk yourself back into him, in unison letting out a groan of pleasure, eyes screwed shut. His beautiful cock deep inside you, pale, matching the color of his skin, how it flushed the same color of his cheeks when the moment called for, an average length, but an exquisite girth, perfectly complimented by the occasional vain, like the ones in is arms, that would run from the base to the middle, and from the middle to his mauve pink, leaking head. 

After a moment of getting used to the new stretch and when Peter loosened the strong grip he had on your hips, now just rubbing the spot, slowly you started to move, back and forth, and rode your man, leaning slightly forward, putting all of your weight on him. 

“Do you like that baby?” Your voice was so breathy.

“Yes, yeah…so good,” He struggled to get out. Both of you so lost in the act, your movements had gotten faster, but still very punctuated, not letting the pleasure shorten or falter your thought out, deep back and forth, Peter just seemed happy to be there, under you, powerless by choice.

You were getting impatient, you knew neither of you would last long, sensitive and desperate for the other, great combination for an intense but rather quick fuck. As you tried to chase your own pleasure your movements became sloppy, shorter but faster. Peter seemed to love the way you were using his dick to get you off. As your body leaned back, the tip of Peter dick hit you at a complete different angle, you let your weight fall back and moved your hands to the meat above his knees, quickening your pace, letting your weight fall forward while leaning back, slamming down on his dick, making him jolt up.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby fuuucckkk,” Peter slightly bended his knees and placed his hands on your ass, helping you deepen your movements.

“ah! Ah!” you anchored yourself on his shoulders and let him help you chase release, this new position allowed you to deliciously rub your pulsing pearl on his pelvis, both of you so close. All you could do was look in the other’s eyes, any second now, ready to burst, both of your mouths open in a silent cry, your foreheads pushed together.

“Oh! Ah! Argh!” You came crashing first, and gripped him like a vice, making him follow, yanking him strongly into it.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He pulled you into him and rolled your bodies so that now he was on top of you, your hands still on his shoulders, pushing your breasts together, he crashed into them and repeatedly slammed in and out of you, his cries muffled by the plumpness in your chest. That  until he settled deep inside you, holding you tight to him, feeling his cock pulse between your walls, your mind completely blank of anything else, but that feeling, not a register of what could be happening around you. Just him, just Peter, on top of you repeating “I love you” catching his breath on top of you. 

You were so out of it, when Peter suggested a quick shower before bed, you think you nodded and mumbled something, you even barely felt the warm water hitting your sensitive body, or how Peter placed a toothbrush with a dollop of toothpaste on your hand, not even when he lathered you up with the soft pink loofa and your favorite body wash, you only gave a small whine when he rubbed a little too hard on your pussy, again when he placed a kiss on your neck and used the smaller shower head to wash the soap away, when the water hit your clit you shivered and backed away, he let it rest for now. Then, after having some amusement in the shower you think that maybe he dried you and wrapped you in a warm towel, walked you to the beautiful walk in and put you in panties and a loose tank, how he so gently moisturized your face with your favorite five hundred dollar cream, or when he kissed you wearing a thick layer of your favorite lip mask, almost feeling like a doll he could move, and dress, and do whatever he wanted to with, including guiding you to bed, getting in the covers with you, cuddling you from behind, so close and warm. What you did feel was loved, how much he loved you, and knew you, and took care of you, and maybe that's all you cared for, feeling loved by Peter Parker. 

[cwritesforfun]

Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader: Escape pt 2

Link to Part One ~> READ FIRST!!!

Y/N = Your First Name & L/N = Your Last Name

They will not follow the Roman style of speech - it will be written in modern language.

*I do not own the Gladiator 2 characters or plot* I do change some of the plot!!!

Masterlist

GIF from @freckledjoes - thx! @helsa3942 had some good ideas, too!

Y/N’s POV

You lead Emperor Geta to the bedroom and help him undress as you fill the bathtub with warm water. You have him wait in the bathroom as you request night clothes for him, food for both of you, and his things to be delivered to your room. You also ask for privacy. You have no idea if Geta will divulge any other information or what you two will be up to.

You receive a scroll with the latest news at night if something bad occurs. You open and read the words, "Emperor Calla has died. Macrinus seized power shortly after. Hanno, who is actually Lucius Verus Aurelius, has taken control and now leads Rome." You need to tell Geta, but when? He seems so fragile, and what if he wishes to return to Rome?

You walk back into the bathroom and see Geta in the bathtub. You walk over, bend down next to him, and say, “You look peaceful, Geta.” He looks at you, softly smiles, and says, “You should get in with me.” You reply, "Fine, since you asked nicely." You feel his eyes tracking your movements as you change and step into the tub with him. You lean your back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you. You both talk softly before you wash each other. You notice small cuts and bruises across his skin, but you don't ask him about them yet.

You dress in new clothes, and Geta takes your hand as you walk to the bedroom. You see the food and lead him to the couch so you can eat a little. He sits next to you, and you both eat some food.

You lay down on your bed and pat the space next to you for Geta. He climbs in bed and collapses with his head on your chest. He picks it up to kiss you on your hand and says, "Let's never be parted again, love. I don't think I can bear it. You complete me." You reply, "You can stay as long as you wish. You're always welcome here." He softly asks, "And what if I never want to leave?"

You ask, "What really happened in Rome, Geta? You told me that you faked your death and how your brother thought he killed you. But, I also see the cuts and bruises on you that tell another story." He answers, "It started a few months ago when General Acacius came home after taking over Numidia for Calla & I. I could tell it was different this time because I could see we were losing the support of the General. However, I didn't voice these opinions to Calla because he had enough on his plate, or I thought he did... I needed a release, and I was tired of everything, so I invited a girl back to my bedroom. She was a nobody, and I accidentally confided in her. I don't know what I was thinking. The next morning, I woke up to Calla and Dundus standing there. They attacked me, and the guards did nothing. I should have left and come here then ... but I hoped there was still some good in my brother. I was wrong. The fights at the Coliseum were getting louder, and the Romans were rooting for this guy named Hanno." He takes a deep breath and continues, "I heard rumors that General Acacius and others were plotting against my brother and me. We locked him up for treason, and Calla started acting out more. I tried to keep the peace, but it just wasn't working. This man, Macrinus, started showing up and whispering in Calla's ear about me. That's when I set my escape plan in motion. One of the good things about being Emperor is the endless resources that you have at your disposal. At first, I wanted to make my head out of cake, and he's crazy enough that he'd think it was real. But I knew Macrinus would know something was up. So, I did something that I'm not proud of. I found a guy who looked like me who was up to compete in the Coliseum, and I told him to just sleep in my bed to pretend to be me. I told him all he had to do was sleep there, and I'd pay him handsomely. I gave him some of my clothes, and that night, I snuck out. I threw on a brown cloak that some soldiers wear, and I went near the water to the safe house you told me about. The man, Titus, kept me hidden for the rest of that night and the next day in his small home. We set sail the next night, and by then, we'd heard that everyone was claiming I was dead and that my head was brought to the Senate meeting. I feel horrible for the guy in my place, but he was going to die anyway in the arena... You know the rest. The journey was long and cold, but I'm here."

You're shocked. Horrified. Terrified. Stressed. Sad. Angry.

Geta sits up and asks, "Hey uh Y/N, is everything okay?" You answer, "Uh I have something upsetting to tell you." He asks, "What?" You grab the scroll and hand it to him to read. His eyes widen, and he looks in shock. You say, "I um... I understand if you have to return home." He asks, "What's left for me in Rome but my enemies and a land of disease? You are my home and my future. Rome means nothing to me, especially now that you're in my life." You place your hand in his and ask, "When did you get so romantic?" He moves closer to you and answers, "When I realized I let the love of my life return to her home, and we were not together. I had to read poetry and other works to better express my love for you." You reply, "Well I love you too, Geta. I always have." He leans in and you both kiss.

You stay up late talking until you're both yawning.

At some point, in the cold, dark night, you wake up to feel fidgeting next to you, and Geta seems to be fighting a nightmare. He is whispering out loud, "Stay back. Don't hurt me. Don't hurt her." You lightly shake Geta and say, "Geta, love, you're safe." He turns quickly and you say, "Geta, love, everything is okay." He pulls you close to him and says, "I thought someone was going to execute us together for loving each other. Everyone was mad at you for liking me and they were mad at me for Rome." You softly rub the back of his hand in circles and reply, "You're okay, and I'm okay. No one will be mad at us for loving each other. Even if they are, I'm the Queen, and they cannot influence who I choose to love. My guards are loyal to me and always working, so we're safe. I take several precautions for my safety, and the safety of my guests." He replies, "I bet your people love you as the Queen." You reply, "They do, and they will learn to love you with time. We can talk about that after you get to rest, though. You had a long journey and need to sleep more." He replies, "I love you." You say, "I love you too."

Taglist: @ziggeddie & @helsa3942

Should I write a part three after he adjusts to a new land and new position ???

[lukellios]

What a difference six years makes

[hinamie]

I could've been a better man, but I'm not

more lmhs megu bc i love him. he is here fr ur lunch money :>

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Parentalbond Horror

*grinning* I am baaaaaaaack!! @spotaus get over here :D

So. I had the difficult choice on which drabble i wanted to write so For now I settled on this one because I haven't had the chance to write a drabble with Horror's pov since a while and that is a crime.

First Drabble here Prev Drabble here Next Drabble here

As always we go in unbeta'ed and unedited.

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Horror checks the windows again before turning back to the couch and seeing Nightmare just staring at him.

Horror tils his skull "sleep will be easier if you actually lay down...." And he looks pointedly at the couch.

Nightmare gains that stubborn glint in his sockets again as he huffs "I am fine. Not tired at all." he looks at the pile of bags in the corner of the room wishfully.

Horror has to keep his chuckling inside as he answers "Shame then that it is bedtime for young skeletons." And adult skeletons. Horror glances at the other three. All KO on the other couch, all still dressed in their normal clothes and none of them actually finished their meals.

Horror will have to pack up the leftovers. Make sure nothing goes to waste. But he will let them sleep for now and just make them eat a big breakfast. But all three had been running themselves ragged lately. Especially after the last encounter they had had with the Stars.

It meant they have been making more jumps and teleports and not going out as much to collect things to make it easier for them.

Horror walks over to them and puts one of the blankets in this apartment over them, he doesn't bother to try and pull them away from one another. The four of them always had the habit of sleeping in a pile and that habit only got worse once they started searching for Nightmare and reclaimed him.

Horror checks Ngihtmare's plate and smiles "You finished it all today." No wonder he is grumpier and more active than usual.

Nightmare pulls a face and crosses his arms. Horror walks over and nudges him at his shoudler "Sleep time." and he waits.

Nightmare grumbles more as he pushes the blankets and pillows around. Horror just crosses his arms as he waits. Nightmare huffs but lays his skull down on the pillow and glares at him.

Horror knows he is grinning but he is proud to say he doesn't actually snort or laugh at the grumpy face Nightmare is pulling. instead he moves closer slowly, the first week of watching Nightmare flinch at every movement and sound had been horrible, and puts the blanket over him as well.

Nightmare doesnt complain about it. Most likely becuase he just saw Horror do the same for the other three.

Horror nods and sits by him "Time to sleep." it is his turn to keep watch and he plans on taking ti seriously.

Nightmare huffs but just turns his face further into the pillow. Tiny body starting to relax with the simple comforts.

Horror tries to not be obvious as he keeps an eye on Nightmare.

Horror knows of course what is going on and he is trying to not give in. At least one of them should not give into the adopting.

Horror can admit he had been surprised that Dust was the first one to actually soul adopt Nightmare. Especially after only a week. It had been so fast and the transition between the before and after state had been so smoothly that Horror had honestly thought that Dust had done it on purpose and planned.

It would have made sense. Dust had been the one to find the book first and been the one to actually manage to get Nightmare back to them.

Only for it to become obvious that Dust had no idea what he had just done.

Soul adoption is a rather normal thing for monsters to do. Though in most universes they rarely happened as monsters don't tend to abandon children.

But well, Horror's AU had been one with starvation and a lot of fighting. People lost their lives in multiple ways. That meant quite a few orphans.

Soul adoption happened when an adult monster willingly took the role as caretaker for a younger monster who doesn't have a caretaker. There are a few more factors obviously but Horror doesn't know all of them of the top of his skull, especially not now with that hole in it.

What it comes down to? Nightmare is an orphan and has no one he could go to that could take care of them, and all of them know this. Dust found out first and surprisingly his soul was open enough to the idea to accept Nightmare as... well... his.

There are more hurdles in this situation of course. The fact that they Nightmare they knew was an adult, which is what Horror thinks is tripping up Cross. But Dust had been very quick with accepting that Nightmare is now a child and so immediantly treated him as one.

Killer took a bit longer but quickly fell into step as well. Calling Nightmare tiny boss and going from his right-hand-man to his babysitter, Killer's words not Horror's.

Horror is however a bit surprised that Killer also soul adopted Nightmare. In theory it shouldn't have happened as Nightmare at this time already had Dust as his caretaker and so technically didn't need one anymore.

Seems like Killer's soul didn't agree with that.

Horror can't say a lot about it though, seeing as he can feel it happening with himself as well. And he has no doubt that Cross is very close to giving into his own instincts and feelings concerning this as well.

The whole thing with their last interaction with the Stars is a very big give away. Even if Cross felt very embarresed by his own reaction.

At least Nightmare is no truly convinced that they won't harm him and will help him. Horror is happy they managed to get there and with it having only been a month since they took him with them. Horror can say they did a good job.

Nightmare has falled asleep.

Horror move slowly and silently and puts two fingers to the the side of his small belly and feels.

Horror may not have a lot of magic himself but his AU was left him with a very useful skill. Wiht how little food there was available and how little magic there was there came issues. One of the issues was that after a while the magic monsters had wasn't strong enough anymore to digest the food that the mosnters did manage to eat. meaning that even if the monster ate food they would not get any energy or new magic from it.

Meaing that even if they ate they would continue to starve.

Wiht how difficult it had been for Nightmare at first to eat or even remember to eat Horror had worried something simular may have happened. That being in the goop form had caused his own magic to grow too weak to be able to function fully.

But all Horror feels is the soft and quiet purr of NIghtmare's magic working hard to use the offered food to rebuild the babybones' small reserves.

Horror sighs a sigh or relieve and just watches Nightmare for a moment. Nightmare, having noticed the pressure on him, makes an unhappy sound and his socket flutters open to give him a sour look.

Horror chuckles as he whispers "I apologise." Horror is unsure how clear his answer is as Horror himself is purring like a loud law mower at this point.

Nightmare blinks at him, still looking like the tiniest little grumpy skeleton this multiverse has ever known, before closing his sockets again and turning on his side. surprisingly not away from the touch and light hold.

Horror watches the other. It is strange. They are all different yet Nightmare still has them all completely under his control. Yet it is in a completely different way and Ngihtmare now doesn't even seem to realise it.

Horror leans on the couch and watches their tiny charge just sleep. Horror had managed to keep the need to complete an adoption at bay by reminding himself that Nightmare already had a caretaker- well two and a half now, Horror is sure that all Cross still needs to complete the soul adoption is a tiny nudge. Horror thinks that Cross is jsut thinking too much about it and doubting his own instincts and feelings.

But that still leaves Horror, and what he wants to do. He figured that it would be better to at least keep one of them unbiased in this nature, just in case that Nightmare suddenly turns into an adult again. But the longer this went on the less likely it seemed to Horror.

Not to forget. Horror doesn't even think Nightmare wants to be an adult again. Not now that he is a child but doens't have to vigilent every moment of every day.

Does he technically already have caretakers? Yes. Does Horror still want to count himself as one? Yes.

So. He just picks for himself.

Horror moves slowly and quietly as he picks Nightmare up. Nightmare grumbles in his sleep at being moved but calms when his magic recognises Horror.

Horror gets comfortable on the couch and lays Nightmare on his sternum. He can still feel the tiny soul beat and pulse fast even through two shirts.

Horror pulls the blanket back over Nightmare and waits.

It doesn't take long as Horror can feel the slight pull on his magic and energy. Hardly noticable and Horror doubts that if he wasn't so paranoid about his own levels he would have noticed.

It is something tiny monsters do. To help stabalise and sharp their own magic they try to take tiny bits of their parents, or caretakers in this case, to help guide them. It all happens naturally.

Horror just holds the tiny babybones closer and feesl Ngihtmare's soul slowly start to match Horror's own soulbeat and he feels all the calmer.

Now it is pretty much done. Horror will have to probably deal with this decision one day but for now he is happy. Their tiny babybones is comfortable and everyone is resting. Tomorrow they will have to worry about getting supplies and where they can go and eventually where they will sleep that night.

But right now? Right now he doesn't have to worry about that. and all he ahs to worry about is that their babybones is comfortable and healing.

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