#like I totally understand how he gets so many women

[hawnks]

Yandere boy weekend apparently

[gregmarriage]

whenever i get insecure about my looks etc , i remember that people have been attracted to me in the past and it WASN’T some long winded prank of some kind. also, they didn’t spilt up with me bc of my looks either, it was entirely separate issues they may have had. like, the year i was dating my ex wasn’t a joke in that sense, it was just kinda a waste of time, bc we broke up and it basically turned out they lied to me, and i felt very strung along, but again separate issue. they WERE attracted to me for a while. they asked ME out, the rest is weird, but that part’s true. like, there’s only so much you can fake, if you know what i mean

[thatneoncrisis]

i wrote a big long essay talking about tlt and how it engages with describing the skintones of brown characters its under a read more bc it is so long.

I already left a long comment about this on someone else post but I wish I could study tazmuirs odd little habit of dancing around the fact that Gideon and Harrow are women of color when she describes them, and how this kind of extends to other brown characters

We get a million descriptions for how sickly pale ianthe Silas and cytherea are, what a lovely golden tan corona has, the odd tannish yellow hue of colum, all imagined by her, in her own words, to be white. Then when it comes to Marta and Judith they're called dark like Once in the text. I don't think it's even mentioned for Jeannemary and magnus in the entirety of gtn though I will gladly stand corrected if I missed something. It's such a non factor for them, which normally I would overlook if it wasn't for the aforementioned specificity of how white characters are described on Top of one of the major themes of the book being how John, a Maori man, resurrected a largely Polynesian population and then proceed to rule them using the exact same methods that actively colonized new zealand. Like I just think it's really interesting that in many ways, the story is about two young Maori women completely stripped of cultural heritage, they can't even speak te reo maori they cannot even conceptualize the scale of that kind of loss. Theyve been to earth once and during her brief time there Gideon literally died on it's soil it feels so poignant

Back to them specifically being Not Pale, this is not me saying they would be "less" maori if they were light-skinned that's total bullshit and the entire paradigm exists as a product of European bullshit. My fascination is more with the fact that tamsyn has clearly thought of them as midtoned to dark skinned. I'm going to be really generous and disregard the Tommy Arnold covers- he is a talented artist but he's not the author and Taz stated in an interview that she didn't envision Gideon with an undercut either so he clearly has little liberties he can take and I'm fine with that get your coin dude. For these two I'm going to have to focus on Nona the Ninth, bc for the entirety of gtn, harrow is described as grey, and while I understand that's bc she's constantly under a mountain of white and black facepaint, we basically never get an objective description for either of them. Gideon stand out features are her build, hair and eyes, like a lot of characters, but it could have been pretty easy to throw in a line about how she seems less desaturated than what one might expect from a ninth cavalier, like a rich warm brown, possibly hinting to other characters that she isn't a ninth native

Htn also gives very little to work with, again harrows primary colors are the blacks whites and greys of facepaint and her hair and the reds of constantly sweating blood. The character who's darker skintone is Most remarked upon (also one of the few ever constantly headcanoned) as black, is g1deon. I've actually spoken to a few people about this and there seems to be some actual Mandela effect shit going on where people remember Taz saying he's black despite me never once finding evidence for this. However, this is not a case where I'd be overjoyed to be proven wrong, because g1deon being the one black guy in this entire cast, the one who's dark skintone is commented on the most, being the guy who barely speaks, tries killing harrow with a spear 14 times and then dies offscreen. Not good. Bad, actually

Finally onto ntn, in the beginning chapters Nona remarks her (harrows) skintone is the color of an egg carton. I assume she means the light tan, desaturated brown of the cardboard used in certain cartons, which is fitting for harrow, girls lived in an ice cave for 17 years. This is basically the only word we get on it. I believe a few times the text will say something about pyrrha's (g1deon's) brown Everything; brown skin, russet brown hair, rich brown eyes. that character gets to be viewed and constantly affirmed as a brown character in teh way gideon and harrow arent, it kind of others pyrrha. to contrast camillas hands are called tanned way at the beginning while recording nona's dream, then at the way end it says, "Her face still looked grey beneath its nice normal olive," olive being used to describe her once before in gtn as far as i can see. pyrrha's (g1deon's) skintone is one of her most notable features, its brought up to a noticeable agree the text wants you to keep it in your mind when you think of the saint of duty; "Most of Pyrrha was the colours of the building site: deep dried-out browns, dusty hunks of clay, rusted metal." "Pyrrha wouldn’t burn any colour other than her deep cool brown." "Nona took the water from Pyrrha’s brown, work-chapped hand and even sipped it" "Pyrrha had carried Camilla to bed in her big brown arms like Cam weighed nothing" "Pyrrha said, “Thanks, Nums,” and drained the whole thing. Nona,fascinated, watched the brown column of her throat move as she swallowed." its just notable to me when alternatively with nona you'll get a line like "Camilla didn’t say anything to that either, only rubbed her wrists where the tape had been. Nona’s skin was already back to its nice normal colour." like just the vagueness in nice normal color, we get one line about what shes supposed to look like in the beginning and thats it

towards the end during the broadcast, nona gets her first clear look at kiriona, described as: "warm-coloured skin that should have been a similar brown hue to Nona’s, except that there was something wrong with it." break out the champagne its official

Obviously, dying takes some color from you. If anything, gideons desaturation should make them More comparable given the egg carton comment and harrows general state of constant anemia. Has Nona gotten darker during her time on new rho? Was Gideon lighter than the cover led us to believe? We don't know. We well never know, which is odd, bc these books fucking love purple prose about people's appearances. We have like seven different synonyms for the shade of ianthes hair. New words for black have to be invented in order to convey harrows eyes which are Black, not the dark muddy brown of someone like ortus. It's less that I'm bothered by the text not hyperfocusing on their skin and more it picking and choosing when it will laser focus on a detail like that, and how often it's skipped over to the point that I like, constantly see people draw harrow as incredibly pale, which is very different from being light-skinned

Finally, I know people can dismiss this as like an audience interpretation thing. I know I actively draw harrow darker than Gideon which I know isn't canon. But this is less about Fandom response to the text and more the text itself and how it's like. Afraid to say brown. near the end of ntn i found One instance of it referring to gideons "slim brown hand" on nonas cheek and that is direct as it gets. even her other like, strongly non european traits are sort of danced around. her nose is "a nose that was the complete opposite of Nona’s nose, one that put her in mind of those big poison desert cats Born in the Morning was crazy about." a very fanciful description, you have to infer that nona means that its probably flat and wide, also giving us the information that harrows is most likely narrow and straight, possibly downturned. im not opposed to this, especially given the character talking about her is nona, but then you get the following paragraph:

"Her skin was very much dead-person skin, ashen and tinted the wrong colour around the nostrils and the mouth. But even if she hadn’t been dead, Nona was critical. Her eyelashes were very dark, but short and curly, whereas Nona thought all eyelashes should be long and straight (her own eyelashes were long and straight). The corpse had too much mouth and a dimple (nobody in her home had a dimple). You could not, at least, see the veins in her eyelids, which were heavy and cold and deep-set. But Nona thought it was going to be a shame to go from being so lovely as she was to being so—redheaded."

its a very frank description. dimple, curly lashes, red head, dead skin, probably a wide mouth. her nose is contrasted against nonas nose, which is also never directly described, and then compared to a fantasy animal we have never heard of until right now

kicks rocks. there isnt a point to this. the series is almost over, there is zero reason to like, knock on taz's door and ask why she did this or that. it doesnt stop me from loving the series, and the insinuation that noticing this means i must dislike the series is frankly insane (real thing that happened). if someone got the impression that harrow was white given how shes described i wouldnt blame them honestly, its most apparent she isnt in the third book (with the cover art being incredibly ambiguous) and a single blog post from taz mentioning shes maori, immediately followed by an "oh i dont care how you see the characters" addendum, which i think is like. an odd thing to tack on bc them descended from kiwis is like, very integral to the story, and gideon being the daughter of the maori man who took everything from her she didnt even know she could have and the (presumably, given her name and a very brief description) maori woman fighting to get that world back its like. damn. it feels a little important. that the audience knows theyre maori. like a little. it feels intertwined with the whole thing about john using european standards of imperialism and general aesthetics to hurt his own kid. actually.

[penkura]

You have no idea how happy I am to finally find someone who writes for penguin 😭 he’s so fucking handsome and I love him sm!

Anyways onto my request, could you write a scenario with Law, Penguin, Zoro, and whoever else you’d like, of reader being hit on and then protecting her?

Thank you so much I am obsessed with your writing 😭💛

Yesss more love for Penguin!! He deserves it so much, omg, he's so good!

I've never been hit on before to my knowledge, so I'm just winging it here, but aahhh protective men. <3 I decided to add Shachi to this since he's started working his way into my circle of blorbos, so this my first time writing him in a romantic light lol. I hope you like it!

I'm sorry this took me SO LONG TO DO AAHH. I got back from vacation and life took over again.

Law

Law understands fully that his crew needs time off the Polar Tang every now and then, and that most of the time, that leads to everyone taking over a tavern when you dock, drinking their cares away while he watches to ensure no one does anything stupid. After the one time a fight broke out because Penguin unknowingly hit on the bar owner’s wife was enough, your captain keeps a close watch to cut off anyone who needs to stop before they do something to get you all in another fight.

Still, he has no problems letting you all have some time to relax and unwind, enjoy some drinks and the bad karaoke some of your crewmates partake in, as long as he keeps an eye on you specifically, Law is totally fine with the bar crawls that happen. He isn’t watching you because he doesn’t trust you, it’s the opposite. He trusts you more than anyone else on the crew, that’s why he watches you so closely when you’re out, to make sure you stay safe. There’s too many people out there, men and women, that are willing to lie or take advantage of you to get to him, Law understands that very well.

None of it has to do with the tiny little secret crush your captain has on you, nope. Not at all.

It has nothing everything to do with the guy flirting with you at the bar, it’s definitely not the reason his grip on his glass is so tight to the point you could hear a slight crack. Law can tell you aren’t entirely comfortable, by the nervous smile you have on your face as you inch back a little at a time, but the guy doesn’t seem to get the hint, moving closer, with a drunk grin on his face. Law doesn’t step in right away, just watching to make sure you’re safe. The second you let on that you feel unsafe, or the guy makes the wrong move, he’ll intervene. He has to keep his crewmates safe, small crush or not.

It's not even a minute later when the man puts a hand on your thigh, causing you to stiffen up, that you see the familiar blue from Law’s Room, and suddenly you’re sat in his lap as the drunkard jumps up when you disappear. Law’s arm wraps around your waist as the other guy looks around for you, too drunk to notice where you’ve been placed before he downs his own drink and asks for another, your captain almost sighing relief that he seems to be ignoring your sudden disappearance now.

“Uh, captain…?”

It takes just a moment for Law to realize you’re still in his lap, but he doesn’t bother to push you off or anything, not when he catches the eyes of another patron on you, instead pulling you a bit closer.

“Just stay here. I can keep those drunk idiots off you.”

You feel a bit weird sitting on his lap, but still nod, thankful Law watches out for you all.

You may have to talk to him later though, based on how touchy he seems to be while he keeps you with him, but that can wait. You’ll enjoy it while you can.

~~

Penguin

Penguin trusts you, sometimes he thinks more than he trusts Law and Shachi. He knows that no matter how many people try to flirt with or hit on you, you aren’t leaving his side. You two have been through far too much for you to even think about leaving Penguin at this point, and he does recognize that.

It still doesn’t help the pang he feels in his chest when someone starts to flirt with you, even thought you never reciprocate and instead bring up your boyfriend in retaliation. Most of the time that makes people back off, usually with a dejected look at the fact you’re already taken, and appear to be happily so. Rarely do people try to push and tell you to just forget about him, and when they do, it makes you angry enough to start yelling at them about how awful they are for trying to make you give up the best thing to ever happen to you, it never fails to make Penguin blush and give you all the love and affection in the world later.

Still, this time, he feels like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. An older man flirts with you at the bar, but you of course aren’t interested, making that apparent as you sit with her chin in your hand and barely respond. He doesn’t seem to get that you have no interest in him, even when you say you’ve got a wonderful boyfriend that you’re madly in love with. When you get up to leave, the guy grabs your arm and tells you to forget Penguin, which just makes you mad and your boyfriend quickly gets up to try and stop you from doing anything to get you thrown out.

“Excuse me?! I’m not gonna just ‘forget him’! He’s the love of my life, he’s been with me for years!! You’re insane if you think I’m going to just leave him because you think I’m easy or something! And another thing, I—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Penguin hooks his arms under yours, lifting you up as you keep yelling and start kicking your legs, he gives a nervous smile to the man and the bartender, “Sorry about her! My girlfriend gets a little angry when she’s had too much to drink! Come on, sweetheart, let’s get back to the hotel~”

Even though you agree, the whole walk there you complain to Penguin about the man that was hitting on you, how he couldn’t take no for an answer, and it makes your boyfriend sigh with a smile.

He’s always the one to pull you from starting a fight, he doesn’t have to protect you most of the time, but he’s always glad to pull you away before you hurt someone.

~~

Shachi

Shachi knows, he knows, that you and Sanji are just friends. You’ve been friends since you were children, your moms were best friends, you and the blond were just very close and spent a lot of your time playing together back then. You’ve told him, multiple times, that Sanji’s flirting with you is a joke, he’s never had romantic feelings for you and vice versa, you’ve always viewed him as a brother.

He just can’t help it and ends up giving Sanji the slightest of glares every time your dear friend flirts with you, even as you laugh and shove his arm, it doesn’t really help your boyfriend in feeling less jealous about it. Does he feel bad about it? Most of the time, yes, but he still ends up putting an arm around your shoulders and either ignoring Sanji’s comments or glaring at him to the point your best friend feels a little awkward.

Shachi is just very protective of you, even about Sanji. He trusts you, but he doesn’t want someone to steal you away and you’re the best thing to happen to him in recent years. You notice it quickly, when Sanji takes glances from you to Shachi and back, so you smile and tell him that Nami could probably use his company, which always gets your friend to throw his flirting and heart eyes to the true object of his affection, and Sanji runs off to her. You feel Shachi physically relax, still keeping his arm around your shoulders though, as you look up at him.

“Shach. He’s my best friend.”

“I know, I just…I’m sorry…”

“No need to be sorry,” you give him a quick kiss that makes Shachi bury his face in your shoulder and wrap his other arm around your waist in a hug, “Just trust me, okay? I love Sanji like a brother, but I love you.”

Shachi nods, telling you he loves you too, and feeling so grateful he has such an understanding girlfriend. He doesn’t feel like he deserves you sometimes.

He tries to not let Sanji’s joking flirting get to him after that, but it can be hard for him at times. At least you know it’s just because he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you.

~~

Zoro

Zoro has never worried about you being hit on by others. You rarely ever reciprocate, only if you really are interested, and that’s only because your swordsman has yet to make a move on you.  Literally everyone around you can see the fact you both have feelings for each other, but neither of you wants to ruin your friendship, so you’ve not even tried to say or do anything to change your status.

So when he sees other bar patrons flirting with you, Zoro doesn’t do much apart from keep an eye on you. He knows he has no real right to, but he’s always ready to jump up and help you if needed, keeping his free hand on his swords just in case someone gets a little too friendly with you. There have been a few times he’s almost jumped up and helped you, but you’ve been able to shake off the people flirting with or touching you easily, normally saying you’d get them another drink but never going back. They’re normally too drunk to notice anyway as you sneak back to your crewmates.

That normally works, but tonight, it seems the man who’s attention you’ve grabbed is a little more stubborn than others. He sits closer than anyone else has, and keeps touching you, even as you remove his hands from you or shrug him off, he still does it. The man has no sense of personal space or your rejection of his touches, it makes Zoro grip his swords a little tighter as he watches. He really wishes he could just go over, tell the guy you’re his, and get you away from him. So at first he doesn’t, Zoro knows you can handle yourself well enough to stop anyone that make you feel uncomfortable, you’re not his partner either, you can do as you please.

But the second he sees the guy’s hand move further up your thigh and you almost seem to freeze, he’s up and by you in a second, pulling you out of your seat and behind him, sending a harsh glare to the patron that dared touch you without your consent.

“She pushed your hands off multiple times, how much does it take for you to get the hint?!”

“Hey man, she—”

“Leave my girl alone or you’re dealing with me next time.”

Zoro doesn’t wait for a response and takes your hand, leading you over to where the rest of your crew is still seated, placing you beside him and not letting go of your hand, even when you try to bring it up. None of them say anything either at first, until Sanji smirks just a bit.

“So…‘your girl’, huh?”

“Another word and I’ll tell Luffy the combination to the fridge lock.”

Even as they all laugh at the horrified look on Sanji’s face, you smile and look at Zoro, mouthing a ‘thank you’ when he looks back to you, before he holds your hand a little bit tighter with a nod.

You could’ve easily thrown the pervert that was touching you to the ground, Zoro even knows that, but he wouldn’t miss the chance to prove how important you are to him and that he can protect you from anything. Not like you needed him to show you that though.

[itsmaferart]

Keep your hands off my woman!!

Leaving aside the most important part of the chapter, Yor must kiss her husband for world peace and the Twiyor nation to be happy.

I think it's a good message if we look deeper into how the stereotypical duality of women is portrayed to us, which I think is a message that can encompass anyone in general.

The most conventional romantic movies are usually about the man being - stereotypically - the strongest and the one who must protect the woman, who wins his sensitive heart and makes the hero bring out his sweetest feelings.

Becky being a little girl has in her heart the fantasy of a sweet romantic love just like the one in her novels and movies. But sometimes, people are not so conventional.

Both Anya and Yor, don't feel comfortable being pigeonholed into “girls waiting to be passively rescued”, because within themselves the love for the people around them is a drive to be strong, take action and save others.

I feel that one of Endo's best points, is her way of undertaking a concept of what femininity, or rather, “feminine energy”, represents. Feminine energy is a force that comes from feelings, it is fluctuating and unpredictable, sometimes like a gentle breeze and sometimes like a terrible hurricane.

Most of Endo's female characters are strong, independent women who do not need to be rescued. And they are very willing to put themselves in the face of danger to protect those they love. This is something we have seen, with characters like Yor, Sylvia, Martha, Fiona, and they have been able to save other men or take on subjects much larger and more muscular than them.

Even with girls like Anya who we know very well is a very brave girl and has been in the face of danger despite her age (maybe too much, our poor baby is only 4 to 5 years old, God), and has the strength to send a bully flying (and fall in love in the process) on the first day of school.

So …. if women are strong …. men are weak?

Absolutely not!

Everyone, regardless of gender, is strong. We know perfectly well that Twilight is someone capable of taking care of himself, is someone who is physically trained and has enormous intelligence. Even Yuri has survived so many dangers that we wonder how the hell he didn't die. Damian is a brave guy (when he doesn't see an insect lol).

The point is, even though women and men (or any gender in general) are strong. We all have our weaknesses, our sensitive sides.

You can do things on your own, but you don't have to do everything at once....

Clearly, although Yor is physically strong, she has problems with metal and verbal confrontations. Because her insecurities are so great that when they make her doubt herself and her own value, she tends to lose it and that is when Loid is there for her, not to take care of her because she is weak, but to remind her of her own value (because she doesn't seem to realize it herself) and to make her see that she is worthy of the understanding and love of others. In the same way that Yor reminds him that he too can be a little weak and take refuge in her.

Even if we feel weak and awkward, we can take initiative....

I think it is very important, the idea that Yor or anyone in general can have the “initiative” to seek on their own that “love” that you so desire.

Many times we feel that if we don't fit into the expected canon, or social archetype we are not worthy of love. (Feminine women who feel vulnerable and who depend on the guy to live are the ones who get love in the end). When nothing could be further from the truth….

Being weak and vulnerable is something totally natural and not exclusive to one gender or social role. We are all weak and strong at the core, and we need each other to complement each other and to be able to enjoy much more of our own love and the love we can give and receive from others.

Yor's desire to actively seek love (kissing her husband a lot) is not only a way to develop her bond with Loid, but a way to grow her self-esteem and challenge her insecurities. To stop seeing herself as a child in front of the world, but a woman who can get things because she wants them (and has her husband's consent, of course) (But, come on, we all know Loid needs kisses from Yor).

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[salmonskinrolltf]

Soulmates 2

[Here's a sequel of sorts to my previous story Soulmates (you don't need to have read it to understand this story). With thanks to @guytransformedforever, @beardobession, @tf-vigilante, @maletransformationlover, @clevertreephilosopher, @scorpionofredsand, and @maletffanatic for providing the photos used as inspiration.]

Hello, my name is Tyler. This is me:

And this is my roommate, Dylan:

Now look, I don’t have a problem with gay people. My cousin is a lesbian. And Dylan is a great roommate. Stays out of my way when we’re not gymming together, but is always down to hang when I need someone to talk to. I just wish he would be less in my face with all his gay shit. Rainbow flags everywhere, blasting Ariana Grande at all hours, constantly bringing new Grindr hookups back to the apartment but giving me side-eye when I ogle women. It’s just… too much for me.

Here’s the thing. I might actually be able to change that. I have this friend Evan, who I’ve wingmanned for on a few occasions over the past year. One night, when we were getting drunk together, he shared his secret with me. He has a magic gift. He clasped my hand and said “tomorrow, you will wake up and have this magic too.” And sure enough, the next day I could feel a tingle coursing through my veins, and I automatically had the knowledge of how to channel it.

Now I have the ability to change somebody’s future. I can’t fiddle with anything that’s innate or has already happened to them. Like, I can’t just make Dylan straight. But I can shape his future decisions or actions, and my magic will make alterations to speed the process along. Like if I made him decide to work out more, he would basically become a muscle beast within the week. Not that I’d do that. I still gotta be the alpha here. I just want to make him a little more… palatable. Someone cool to kick back with all the time, even if he sucks dick. Let’s see... I think I know what will work.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL BECOME OBSESSED WITH SPORTS

———————————

Hello, my name is Dylan:

Sports are my LIFE. I never cared about them much growing up, but about a month ago I felt the urge to join my local queer volleyball team and never looked back. It became my everything. It’s been great exercise, but on top of playing volleyball and getting totally jacked off of it, I’ve loved the sense of camaraderie. I love my team. So much so that I even pierced my nipples on a dare when we lost the semifinals. My teammate River also recommended I stop dyeing my hair, and I think the look is really working for me. For some reason, even though it’s only been a month, my hair has grown out significantly since then. Was the red dye stunting its growth or something? Anyway. I also feel like my roommate Tyler and I have really bonded. We’ve been watching baseball games together and I think he appreciates how into it I am. He says he’s excited to bro out while watching football together in the fall.

I love Tyler, but here’s the thing. Maybe I love him too much. I’ve always had this huge crush on him, and no matter how many random Grindr hookups I try to distract myself with, I just can’t stop hoping that one day he’ll give up women for good and decide he loves me. Especially now that we’re spending all this time together, bumping chests when our team wins and shit.

I know us getting together is never going to happen, but I have this… temptation. I was born with a gift. Or maybe I wasn’t. Something my twink friend Paul told me made me think maybe he had something to do with it. Anyway, I have the ability to reshape someone’s past. I change just one thing about their past, and everything about their present just ripples forward to reflect that change. It’s a delicate art. Changing something big can have huge effects that are totally unpredictable. It’s a major temptation to make Tyler gay, but who knows how he’d turn out. Plus, I think that’s just too invasive.

But… Maybe I could change something small about him. Something that would make him less my type, and allow me to move on and focus on finding a boyfriend who would actually be into me. I’m into nice guys. I really love how kind and caring he is. And come on, he’s a FIREFIGHTER. So maybe I can try…

TYLER GREW UP SELFISH AND SPOILED

———————————

What’s up, I’m Tyler.

You dig the jacket? Yeah, I’m still a firefighter, I’m just off duty. But babes dig whatever look I rock, you know what I mean? I get what I want, and what I want is a lot of one night stands. I know how to get ‘em, too. I’m so glad I made the decision to grow this beard out a year ago, it’s opened so many doors for me. And opened a lot of legs.

I’m getting what I want from Dylan, too. Finally, I have a roommate who’s willing to grab brews and watch the game with me. But I think I fucked up when I changed him. Queer volleyball isn’t exactly “sports,” at least not in my book. I thought he’d come out like a linebacker or something! I mean, nipple rings were never part of the plan. The gay guys seem to really go for them, too, so he’s got an even steadier stream of Grindr hookups coming in and out of the place.

On top of that, I’m a little sick of his shit. He’s always giving me lip about stupid stuff like leaving my dishes in the sink or dropping my unwashed uniform on the bathroom floor. He says it’s unsanitary. Like his parade of twinks aren’t dying to sniff that shit anyway. He just doesn’t get it. I think his volleyball teammates are a bad influence too. They’re all so obsessed with aesthetic and anti-hetero rhetoric. I still can’t make him straight, but I can definitely make him less… annoying.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL START HANGING OUT WITH MORE STRAIGHT PEOPLE WHO WILL HELP HIM STOP WORRYING ABOUT STUPID SHIT AND BE LESS PRISSY, WELL-GROOMED, AND UPTIGHT

———————————

Yo, I’m Dylan.

Yeah, I cut my hair shorter than the last time you saw me. The upkeep was just getting to be too much, y’know? A couple weeks ago, about the time I dumped that lame-ass volleyball team I was on, I just got bored with shaving every day, too. I invested in a trimmer and now I rock the stubble look, and it’s working for me. I’ve gained a bit of weight since then, and it’s all for the better because I joined my local football league. Having a few extra beers with my new buds afterward just adds to my potential as a linebacker, anyway.

I thought hanging out with more straight people would make me get used to their vibe and kinda inoculate me against Tyler, but I’m still totally obsessed with him. He’s more of a bad boy now, but I’m finding that less unappealing than I used to. Plus, he’s still parading around in his uniform all the time. I can’t help it! I’ve jerked off more times that I can count to his Mr. June photos in the local firefighter calendar.

Whenever I see his mom, she’s constantly going on about how, out of all his Tonka toys growing up, the fire truck was always his favorite. She thinks that’s why he grew up to be a firefighter. Maybe I can change that core memory into something a little more… disreputable. That would definitely make him not my type anymore. I hope.

TYLER’S FAVORITE TOY GROWING UP WAS A TONKA MOTORCYCLE

———————————

Fuckin’ A, man, I’m Tyler.

God, I love my hog. She’s a beaut, ain’t she? My parents wanted me to grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer or a firefighter or some shit, but all I ever wanted to do was ride my hog. Chicks want to ride my hog too, and I let them. As long as they don’t go near my bike! Hahaha, get it? Fuck, I love life. Let me take another drag on this stogie real quick.

Where was I? Oh yeah, my roommate, Dylan. I wish I didn’t have to room with anyone, but my boss at the garage keeps refusing to promote me. I should knock him around one of these days, see if that changes his mind. Anyway, sure, Dylan isn’t so much of a priss anymore. He doesn’t give me shit if I leave my grease-stained clothes on the couch or light up when we’re watching a football game.

But I wanted him to be straight-acting, you know? I tried to train him up as my wingman but he wore a super gay shirt with all these see-through holes to the party, and all the chicks kept their eyes on him the whole time! Fucker. Why can’t he be more like his brother? I’ve seen pictures. That dude is a full on redneck slob, got a Confederate tattoo and everything. I know they had the same backwater-ass trailer trash upbringing, why can’t he be rougher around the edges? You know what… maybe he can!

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL REALIZE HE WANTS TO EMBRACE HIS WHITE TRASH UPBRINGING

———————————

Hey y’all, I’m Dylan.

Hoo-ee, life has been good lately. I dunno why I resisted my good ol’ boy roots for so long. This goatee really makes me look rugged, dunnit? Also the chest hair. So grabbable. I decided to stop shaving my body, and poof! There it went. A full rug, within like two days I reckon. Like a sign from God. This is how I was always meant to be.

I know I was trying to push away my crush on Tyler by making him not my type, but what’s the fuckin’ point? I need someone who can handle me, and this hot as fuck biker dude I’ve created might be the only one who can handle me at this point. I ride ‘em rough and bareback, just like the horses back home, and weak city dudes just can’t handle it.

Will he be the same if he’s not straight? Maybe not. But as long as he can take my eight inches, I’ll keep him around. I vaguely remember having some sort of compunction about changing him so drastically, but I’m too horny to remember what it was.

Fuck it.

TYLER WAS BORN GAY

———————————

Uh… hi. I’m Tyler. Who are you again?

Sorry, I’m pretty forgetful. Daddy Dylan says I don’t gotta remember shit though, as long as I let him ride me as rough and as long as he likes. He’ll do all the rest for me. He tells me where to go, what to do, who to do. There are so many nice, hot guys who are willing to pay our rent if I turn a few tricks. I love it.

I’ve been like this as long as I can remember. My mom and dad kicked me out when I was 18, in my senior year of high school. I was caught sucking my English teacher’s dick behind the locker rooms. I never went to college after that, but it’s not like I was getting good grades anyway. Sucking Mr. Brentmon’s cock wasn’t for my health, you know. He had a nice juicy one, too. I still dream about it sometimes.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, I took up with this biker gang for a while after getting kicked out. I’ve always had a thing for bikers. But once they got through using my ass, they got bored. It was hard for a while, but now things are oh, so easy. I get all the dick I could ever want. I have a roof over my head, and no job to worry about. All I do is go to the gym and eat and fuck and I never have to think. Dylan said he might take me out muddin’ sometime too. I don’t know what that is, but anything Dylan does is fun. Fuck, I love the way his goatee tickles my skin when he kisses me, so rough, so manly. Way manlier than I’ve ever been. It’s so fucking hot. I love how he takes care of me.

I really have no complaints. I wouldn’t change anything about my life, even if I could remember how…

[kjdkive]

accidentally revealing you're engaged — CL16

top actress! yn and f1 pilot! charles leclerc 

“you know, chloe, i am very scared of red carpets because it means interviews and questions and i hate them, why can’t we all just watch the premier in peace and in comfy clothes?” you ask your manager. 

“you talk a lot when you’re nervous.” she says. 

“i know and i am sorry.” you tell her. “i get anxious because you never know if they can twist your words. but whatever, i’ll be fine, right? like it’s nothing serious, right, chloe?” 

“we’re here.” chloe replies and waits for one of the bodyguards to open your door and let you walk out. “you’ll be fine.” she says before you get off the car. 

as soon as you get off you hear the screaming from the fans and you run to them so you’re able to take as many pics and sign as many autographs as you can before security tells you to stop. 

but the part that you loved the most is over, now is posing and then interviews. 

“yn! let us see the back of the dress!” you listen to the paparazzis and you turn around. you keep posing the way you’re being asked to, expecting for the pictures to maybe not look perfect but just fine. 

and the posing is over! now it’s the interviews. 

you’re 3 interviews down of 5 to go and your manager and your bodyguard are behind you supporting you, mouthing “you got this!” which makes you laugh. 

“hi, y/n, it’s so nice to meet you. i am kate and i am from know-it-all magazine.” 

you have to be honest, you had never heard from them. 

“hi, kate, nice to meet you too.” you smile at her. 

“i’m loving your dress, it fits perfectly! can you tell us who you’re wearing?” 

“of course, i am wearing a custom-made oscar de la renta which is a huge honour.” 

“are you excited to be here? i mean, you’re probably going to get asked out a lot because you’re a single woman now.” 

“uh, yeah…” what did she just say? this is what you didn’t want to happen, questions that are not normal and that you do not want to answer. 

“can you give a few tips to women who now are after charles?” 

okay. now you didn’t understand what was going on. what the hell is happening? 

“did you just ask me to give tips to women who like charles? as in what he likes and stuff?” 

“yeah, i mean, you broke up.” 

“we broke up?” you ask her, shocked. 

“yeah, that’s what everyone is saying.” she never stops smiling which is creepy and annoying you. 

“can you hold on a second?” you ask and she nods. 

you grab your phone from your pocket because yes, your dress had pockets. right now, a blessing and a curse. your manager was about to stop you but what you were about to do was going to be funny. you scroll a little bit through your phone, dial some number and put it on speaker.

“hey, charles! i’m on an interview and you’re on speaker, okay?” 

“hey, baby, yes, what’s up?” he giggles. “why are you calling me charles, though? did i do something?” 

“i think you did.” you laugh. “did we break up?” 

“what?” he asks, almost yelling. “did we?” he asks now more calmly but confused. 

“i mean, i don’t think so.” 

“as far as i know, babe, we’re engaged so you’re kind of stuck with me.” 

you roll your eyes laughing. 

“i know, right? thanks for letting me know though, i’ll call you later after i’m done, babe.” 

“m’kay, i love you!” 

“love you too, baby, bye!” 

you hang up and you look at the interviewer. 

“does that answer your question?” 

“it totally does. thank you so much, hope you have lots of engaged fun tonight.” 

“i will, thank you.” 

you start walking away from the camera but you hear chloe whisper to the interviewer: “she’s kind and naive but next time, ask better questions. just be thankful for now.” chloe could be a very scary person. 

“i think you’re going to go trending and you’ll also make a lot of money to that magazine.” chloe laughs. “good job.” 

“thanks? i guess.” you look at her. “charles fucked up, though, we were supposed to keep our engagement a secret.”

“you know how he is, he could never keep a secret.”  

[1d1195]

Toothpaste III

Read Toothpaste here | ~2.6k words

From me: Been way longer than it was supposed to since I last chatted about these two.

Warnings: a couple sweet fluffy puns and pining.

Summary: Harry realizes there's a bit of nepotism in hiring her to work for him while she finds a new job. But Harry would call it flat out favoritism. Also, he really likes the way she says Dr. Styles when she answers the phone.

“Good morning, Dr. Styles office.”

Harry was used to hearing his name said by women all the time. He worked with all women—they all reminded him of his mum which is why he hired them. Unfortunately, he found that many of the newly graduated dental hygienists were there for him...and not the job. He started his practice fresh out of school. Wanting to make good on his degree (and start pecking away at the loan debt from dental school) and help those with toothaches as soon as humanly possible. He was kind to each of them, but he wasn’t oblivious to the flirting that attempted to reel him in during the interview process. They would make small remarks about how they saw themselves fitting right in at his practice—and life. They batted their eyelashes and smiled just a hair too hard.

Now, he was no better than those he turned down in favor of the woman flitting about his office and eyeing the same sweet girl on desk duty. Hiring her because she was pretty, funny, intelligent.

And very much unemployed thanks to him.

Not even dinner first?

It rang in his head. The promise to take her to dinner still only remained just that: a promise. He had given her space as she was excited about the time to herself for the first time in two years. But then when she called again about a month after, claiming she was getting bored and antsy, Harry had to hire her. There had been paperwork to get hired. Training in what her tasks would be as she made the desk her home-away-from-home.

It seemed wrong to hire her and desperately want to go on a date with her, so he separated the two. Let her get her feet under her and whatnot. So, he never got to find out if ‘open’ would be the last of their flirting.

Unfortunately, Harry was ready to let all of his sanity fly out the window. The way Styles sounded in her mouth was a sin and a virtue. Completely and totally the cause for him struggling to maintain a semblance of control over his emotions.

“I know we say drooling is good thing in this office, Dr. Styles, but that’s a bit much,” Mary chided as she walked past him in the small hallway between rooms. Harry cleared his throat. Once more thankful for the mask covering the majority of his face to hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. She was none the wiser, fiddling with a pen as she listened intently. The little headset on her head while she scribbled on a notepad.

“Let me check and I’ll call you right back, yeah? If not, I’ll find someone to recommend,” her voice was so soothing, oozing with kindness and understanding that Harry didn’t know was necessary for someone scheduling appointments for him, but it was the moment he heard her voice. There was an exchange of goodbyes and then she clicked the headset off. “Dr. Styles,” she sang analyzing her notes while clicking and tapping away at her keyboard.

Now Harry had to pretend like he wasn’t just waiting for her to call for his attention. He turned immediately into a patient room where Helen was tending to a teen boy. Helen glanced up; her eyes danced with a smile unseen by her own mask as she continued to pick at the buildup between her patient’s teeth. “Toby isn’t due for an exam, Dr. Styles,” Helen teased.

He glared at her briefly and turned to call out of the room. “Jus’ a second, love.”

“Did you hear that, Toby?” Helen whispered. “Dr. Styles is a bit smitten with his secretary. He’s trying to act casual.”

Toby smiled around the instruments in his mouth and peered back toward where Harry stood. “She pre-ee,” he murmured.

“She is pretty,” Helen agreed. “But he’s pretending like he isn’t in love with her.” Toby chuckled around the tool once more and Harry glared at him.

“There’s a joke ‘bout me being a sadistic dentist, Toby. Make sure y’floss before y’next exam,” he warned lowly. “Helen,” he nodded.

“Dr. Styles,” she nodded in response, the smile never leaving her eyes.

*

She was scribbling on the calendar in front of her inputting as many random national dates as possible. It started shortly after her arrival. The other women in the office usually multitasked their dental duties as well as the front desk. They were excited to have her. As motherly as they were, they knew immediately why Dr. Styles hired the pretty girl and were hopeful the otherwise quiet, shy man would open himself up for her and let love in rather than spend all his waking hours thinking about his practice.

The day of her follow up appointment, she informed him it was National Chocolate Ice Cream Day and she wanted to be sure she would be allowed to celebrate.

“National what?” He chuckled.

It was the kind of thing that made life a little more enjoyable, she explained. After he hired her to be secretary, it was a whirlwind filling the calendar with as many silly days to recognize as possible. Many days had multiple things to be celebrated, so she chose carefully. National Dimples Day was a must—given that Harry had pretty dimples hiding behind his mask. It was followed by National Pina Colada Day, and she told him it was one of her favorite summer drinks.

“Did y’need something?” His voice was warm. Like always. The way it made her feel safe when she was scared that first time she met him, worried a root canal was in her very immediate future. “What’s that say?”

“National Retainer Day!” She nearly cheered. She looked up at him with a bright smile and he couldn’t help but fall harder for her. Each topic of the day was curated with someone in mind. Even the other ladies in the office got their moment to celebrate something they loved as she would randomly call out factoids about the coming month. “Anyone like rosé?” She had called.

“Who doesn’t?!” Melissa shouted back. Of course, the entire time she worked was spent mainly doing tasks, waiting in between calls and tasks to continue filling in the calendar with her funny days of recognition.

Harry was still chuckling about Retainer Day. “Something y’needed t’ask from y’phone call?” He repeated gently to jog her memory.

“Oh yes,” she dropped her pen midway through writing National “Ba” and he felt a little bad for interrupting her thought. Also, he desperately wanted to know the end of the word, and what they would be celebrating in a few weeks. She opened a different window back up and held her notebook poised professionally in front of her. “It’s a little boy,” she explained. “His teeth sound a lot like mine, so I’m probably being too nice,” she frowned. “I know you’re not a pediatric dentist, but the mom sounded exhausted so I told her I would ask and if not recommend someone you know personally from dental school who would take care of him.”

The kindness in her heart was way too sweet. No wonder she was filled with cavities.

“S’fine, set it up, I’ll look.”

“Like today?”

“S’it that serious?” Harry asked curiously.

“Mom sounds exhausted.”

“Like she’s going t’pull her son’s teeth out at a hardware store?”

“Exactly,” her smile was so beautiful. Harry knew smiles.

“S’this m’next patient?” He asked pointing at the tablet waiting beside her. She handed it to him and watched him read.

The way Harry leaned against the counter surrounding her desk put his forearms on full display making her stomach flip. Due to the mask, she couldn’t see his mouth—which was probably for the best. If she saw his lips, his nice teeth, perfect smile, or that dimple in his left cheek she would do something crazy, like kiss him in the middle of his waiting room. Even though no one was there in the waiting room, it seemed like a precedent she couldn’t let happen. Especially when her coworkers were down the hall with patients as well.

His eyes were so focused on the tablet, he didn’t even notice she was staring at him. His concentration was adorable. It was obvious Harry cared about all his patients. He was so intelligent (obviously) and just overall lovely.

“Are we ever going to go on our date?” She whispered quietly so not even Mary, Helen, or Melissa could hear.

Harry nearly dropped the tablet. His mask saved him once more by hiding his surprise. “Oh...um...” It spooked him that she was so confident and easy going about their flirting. It was only a few moments of flirtation and yet, it was enough to make him flustered. Tongue-tied. His brain misfired, no words could get out of his mouth.

Which was not great for her.

“I’m sorry,” she looked away and her hair fell in front of her face so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. “That was rude, I was...” she shook her head. “Forget I said it.”

Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest, and she thought she might die of mortification. How could she say that in the middle of the workday? That was so inappropriate. Maybe more inappropriate since he was a hand deep in her mouth and she asked to open for him. At least then she was a patient and could leave. Instead, he was going to have to go be a hand deep in someone else’s mouth thinking about how she cornered him and flirted with him when she shouldn’t have.

Her stupid mouth was going to get her fired again. She finished the word “Bagel” on her calendar and looked for the information to call that poor mother back. She dialed the phone number and listened on her headset at the other end rang.

A note was dropped on her desk, a prescription paper from Harry’s notepad. Fluttered and settled directly in front of her as the phone continued ringing. She turned to see Harry’s retreating figure before she picked it up and read it.

Tomorrow? Tooth-irty is too early. How about six?

*

The bell to her apartment rang at quarter to six. She was doing some finishing touches to her hair and makeup, and it seemed they would remain unfinished. She wasn’t mad that he was early because it was making her anxious to wait for so long (hence the extra primping). “Just a second!” She called scrambling to put the last bobby pin in place and swiped mascara over her lashes quickly.

She hurried to the door and pulled it out of the way. Harry held three red roses in his hand. “Sorry m’early. I was... nervous and excited.”

“Nervous?” She questioned.

He nodded but didn’t say anything else. Harry wasn’t a man of many words. He was quiet overall. But when he did speak, every word was warm, important. Nerves must not have been important. “Those are beautiful,” she reached out to touch the mini bouquet. The petals were like velvet, and she imagined that he paid a pretty penny for just three little roses.

“S’not too much?” He asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “They’re perfect.”

He released a relieved sigh and smiled. “Good.”

*

At dinner, Harry pulled her chair out and his knee bumped hers beneath the table. She tried to memorize every detail of the moment. It was a feeling that started all the way in her toes and worked up to the roots of her hair. This was a big day. A big moment.

Three months ago, she was in a different world. Now she was at a new job, a new apartment, and on a date with her unbelievably handsome dentist and boss. It was unreal and perfect and something that didn’t happen every day. Something that had never happened to her.

So, she was memorizing every little detail so that when she thought about it for the rest of her life she could talk about the wrinkle near the corner of his mouth when he smiled. How his eyebrow quirked up when he read something he liked on the menu. The way his fingers wrapped around the stem of his wine glass like he was a connoisseur. Was he? She wanted to ask.

“S’it alright?” He asked quietly.

In all her memorizing, she forgot how quiet she must have gotten. Even a man as few words as Harry, it was probably unnerving to sit in silence while sipping at wine, listening to the quiet jazz quartet in the corner of the space while the girl across from him nibbled at the bread on her plate and stared at him for what must have been an embarrassing number of minutes. “Yes,” she said quickly, her knee bumping against his and the table causing the glasses to wiggle. He smiled. That gorgeous, beautiful smile that should have been on pamphlets and billboards for his practice. “Sorry,” she cleared her throat.

She wondered if he would ask her back to his place. Was it too much to do that? Maybe they could just hang out. Her entire work week was spent with Harry and yet she just wanted more time with him. Like something had changed in her that this was...this was something more. More than a toothache. More than toothpaste.

“Are you alright, love? You’re awfully quiet...”

“Can I say something...insane? You obviously don’t mind my ranting thus far between my intake form and my appointments. But this one might... really make you regret asking me out... I don’t know... I just think I have spent a lot of my young adulthood being unhappy. I watched rom-coms and read romance novels and envisioned this all-encompassing love that would put Nicholas Sparks to shame. Then I started my job fresh out of college and I hadn’t thought about love in three years? Four years. Four years of not thinking about love, reading about love, watching love and it was my favorite thing in the world...and then I got a toothache and wanted to yank it out myself and you were just there. You don’t say a lot but you... you helped me quit a job I wasn’t happy in, a job I wasn’t in love with a job that was killing me from the inside out,” she took a breath and Harry was stoically watching her. “I am trying to focus on everything that is happening. For the last three months I’ve been trying to figure all of this out and remember every little detail about you. The way that your knee feels next to mine and how your ring clinks on your wine glass and how I have imagined falling in love so many times in my life and I never thought it would happen in a dentist office—arguably, my least favorite place in the world.”

Speechless. Completely totally speechless.

Harry held his hand up for the waiter. “Could we get our food t’go?” He asked.

Part of her hoped the ground would open up and swallow her. The anxiety and mortification she felt was so intense her voice was dead in her throat. All emotion stopped existing. Part of her thought she did combust as he asked to leave. “Is everything alright?” The waiter asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded assuredly. “S’jus’... I’ve got a bit of a toothache,” he explained and glanced at her finally. The left dimple making itself visible. The relief swam through her. “Need t’head home t’take care of it. S’that okay, love?” He asked quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she cleared her throat. “It’s that sweet tooth of yours.”

“Well, y’know me, love,” he winked and handed his credit card to the waiter. “I crave sweet things.”

--

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[insane-in-the-membranee]

Men fucking scare me.

Now, some are going to go like, "it's not all men", " Are you also scared of your dad/brother/male relative?", "Another 'feminist' hating on men" and so on probably. Sure, it's not all men but it's always men.

I was scrolling insta when I came across a reel where a guy is complaining about how whenever there is a crime concerning a woman, we raise our voice and protest yet when there is a crime concerning a man, there is barely even news coverage. Which is certainly true and fair. But seriously, right now? Why is it that men always complain whenever people are trying to give justice to a poor victim girl?? I totally agree that whether men or women, all victims should get their justice but have some fucking sympathy instead of complaining?!?

Next, another reel where a lawyer guy was talking about women's safety laws and all, the comments? "Law for women, la*da for men". Well, why don't you go and take a look at the statistics? Maybe read the news daily, I mean the local one. Again, I'm NOT against men's safety, ofc no. It's just that, why can't men complain or raise their concerns without pulling the women with them? What do you want? The laws that are made for us (not that they're REALLY useful) to go nil??? Or what?? Equality? That is feminism. Fucking equality!! You don't hear a true feminist complaining, "why do men get paid more than us? Salary for men, chillar for women" or anything, instead it's "We want to get paid the same as that of a man." Again, I'm NOT speaking against men particularly, just the ones who feel enraged towards us just because we want to get treated as a human first, and equally.

I was talking to a guy friend and his attitude is, "Yeah what happened to her is TERRIBLE but hey, it's not like I can do anything about that? I would never do that and be a good person but that's all I can do, I can't tell the rapists that what they did was wrong and they'd too be like 'oh yes yes oops we did wrong' right?". Now, I do understand his perspective but sure a bit more sympathy and kindness won't hurt anyone?? He even has a sister!! And in the age of social media, anyone with a phone can contribute to some extent.

When I read the details of the case, my soul cried out. I can't even imagine her sorrow. Oh my goodness. My insides felt all queasy reading those gruesome details. All girls of all ages have almost experienced a bad incident with men. Harassment, molestation, abuse, assault, SOMETHING! So many cases everyday and so many more which don't even get registered. Rapes have become so common in India that unless and until it's something very gruesome, people don't even bother that much. It's always "What has it got to do with me" until it's someone you, someone who is close to you. 78 years of independence yet girls are still caged behind walls.

It's always "Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao", Beti padh toh li lekin Beti bach nahi pai. Why is it always "Arre voh toh ladhka, voh toh aise he karega", Voh aisa kyu karega?!?

Why is that ladhkiyo ko mana karte hai raat mein bahar jaane ke liye because it's not safe for her, lekin ladhke puri raat awaaragardi kare, koi dikkat nahi.

Why can't we just teach boys to respect women? To not just respect women, but to respect everyone? The next person is a living being, is that not a good enough reason to not be cruel??

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C-ry4xNvZw0/?igsh=N2M0bW51c3dueGpi

Ajeeb toh hai.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

So happy your back!!!😊😊❤️could you please do one where the readers (Baldwin Iv’s wife’s) mind work differently, for example she doesn’t understand jokes or sarcasm, doesn’t pick up on social cues, brutally honest, obsessed with organization and cleanliness, but very smart and kind and she’s very self conscious because she knows she’s different and Baldwin reassures her that her mind is a gift from god, and that he loves her, later on Baldwin hears people gossiping about her because she’s different and gets angry and confronts them and defends her. Thank you! 😊

♡ Gift From God - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request and your kind words 🩷, I'm so sorry this has taken so long to get to, I have been so busy 😭. I hope you enjoy! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Self Doubt

Y/n had always been different. For her entire life, she never truly felt the same as everybody around her.

Not her brothers and sisters or her friends. Especially not her parents. Her father was a lord with much land. He was powerful and required respect.

Many times through her life he had become angry at his daughter for speaking out of turn during important meetings or events and embarrassing him.

Y/n was intelligent. Women were not supposed to be intelligent, they were supposed to bear children and take care of their husbands. They were supposed to be silent.

Y/n was far from silent.

She spoke her mind. She simply couldn't help it and did not understand why so many were offended by her. She never meant to harm anybody, it just happened.

Her intelligence left many feeling threatened by her with the blunt remarks and witty replies. Because of this, she had been rejected by many men who her father wanted her to marry.

The young lady was kind, organized, clean and tidy.

“I would make a perfect wife!” she thought one day. “Why am I not enough?”

She felt alone in the world for many years, until he came along. The king of Jerusalem himself who her father had arranged for her to marry.

No matter how much she protested this, her father was insistent.

Y/n had come to believe she was unlikable and would never make a good wife. It wasn't that she did not want to be married, she simply believed that no man would want to marry her.

But this simply was not the case. From the day he laid eyes on her, Baldwin was in love. She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and after speaking to her for the first time after the wedding, she was even more beautiful in his eyes.

Her words were like magic, leaving him hanging at the end of each sentence. He loved how she spoke so honestly.

To the young king, she was different to every woman he had ever met. She was unique and reassured her of his such feelings. He loved everything about her.

The two were a perfect match. They played chess, studied in the library, and had many deep conversations well into the night, lying side by side in a comfortable bed.

They spent every possible moment together.

Y/n had been nervous at first, desperately trying to remember everything her mother had taught her about being a good wife, but her nerves were soothed with each moment she spent with her new husband.

Baldwin was gentle and kind, patiently reminding her of social hints that she missed in public and doing everything he could to stimulate her sharp mind. 

They had been wed for a few weeks and everything was perfect. The castle had taken a great liking to their new queen and Baldwin could not be more pleased.

She fit right in.

Until one day, the young king overheard something that made his blood boil.

Guy De Lusignan, his sister's husband, sat in the dining room, speaking with a small group when Baldwin heard him mention the name of his wife.

The young king stopped to listen with his ear against the door.

“She is a total freak,” the older man said.

“Can't take a joke, blunt and cold. I don't know what the leper sees in her. HAH! What am I saying, they are perfect for eachother! They can hide away in his chambers and play chess all day like the freaks they are-”

Baldwin had heard enough and pushed open the door, taking the air out of him slightly but he did not care.

“How dare you speak ill of my wife! Not just my wife but your queen. Show some respect for your higher ups, you ungrateful bastard!”

It was not often that the young king raised his voice, but when he did, even the most arrogant listened.

Baldwin even shocked himself with the sudden outburst.

“Y-yes my lord. I apologize” Guy stammered out, standing and taking a small bow with that half smile Baldwin despised.

“Get out of my sight. The lot of you” he growled sternly.

The group obliged and scurried off, leaving Baldwin to his thoughts.

He took a seat at the table with a pained groan. How could this happen? Why did Guy have to be so cruel? He simply prayed that his beautiful wife never heard that rotton man speak about her like that.

It would break her heart.

She had been doing so well, finally accepting herself and coming out of her shell and all.

-----------------

Baldwin returned to his chambers to find y/n tidying up his desk. Upon noticing him, she turned to her husband with a smile.

“Hello darling! I figured I would tidy up a little while you were out!”

Baldwin smiled, his heart relaxing in her presence.

“Thank you my love” he said gently, taking his wife in his arms.

Pleasantly surprised by the sudden affection, y/n wrapped her arms around him in return.

“Never change y/n. You are a gift from God Himself. I adore you just the way you are” Baldwin sighed.

The young queen smiled, looking up at him.

“Thank you sweetheart. I love you just the same and I always will

[mypoisonedvine]

𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 (part III) | frater imperator x reader

(part I) (part II)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 | your first trip together ends on a sour note as some of your suppressed concerns about your relationship begin to show, but a delayed wedding reception might turn it all around.

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 | 6.7k (fucking hell)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 | jealousy/insecurity, MORE heathers references for some reason???, alcohol consumption/slight intoxication, nothing too bad but I swear the slowburn is almost... burnt, or whatever just bear with me

The next day of your visit to Brussels was mostly boring meetings; you almost wanted to ask him why you both had to travel all this way to do the same things you always did, but ultimately you did understand the value of this trip even if it wasn’t especially exciting.  And though you weren’t really capable of assisting with any of the business side of things, you figured out after a while that you were mainly here just to be here— because it would be weird if you weren’t.  Because it would be, for lack of a better word, suspicious if a newly-married couple were traveling separately.

So, you were here, sitting beside him as he and the clergy of the local church discussed various important topics— mission work, ministry, how best to spread the message of Satan and bring in the age of the antichrist… you know, the usual.

His hand rested on your leg again— maybe a little higher than before?  You weren't certain, but it made you smile to yourself as you tuned out the boring conversation going on around you.

You glanced down at the leather-covered hand by your knee, his fingers moving slightly; the silver grucifix embossed on the back shined in this light.  Absent-mindedly, you traced it with one finger, not even noticing that it made him look over at you— not even really appreciating that his hand was still under there, and could probably feel you drawing shapes over his skin.

“Frater,” a clergyman interjected sternly, “do you have a response?”

You'd both totally zoned out, and were quickly brought back to reality; Copia jolted in his chair and cleared his throat as he sat up straighter.  Worst of all, he took his hand off your leg to clasp them both together in his lap.  “I-I’m sorry?” he coughed.  “I fear I lost my train of thought, could you repeat the question?”

“Don’t ask Frater Imperator so many complex things so early in the morning,” Comis scolded his fellow cardinal, “he didn’t get much sleep last night— non?”

He wore a lopsided grin as he playfully elbowed Copia in the side, who nervously reached up to run his fingers through his hair.  “Oh, well— eh— I just lost focus for a moment, is all…”

“Sure,” Comis agreed sarcastically.  “Maybe we should take a break, anyhow.  Give us all a chance to stretch our legs.”

“That sounds nice,” you agreed quickly, mainly just jumping on any chance to get out of this stuffy room and personal conversation.

The meeting room had a sort of lobby outside— or maybe it would be called a parlour?  A sitting room?  You weren’t really sure, but it was fancy; there was tea and little cakes and things, the whole place was so detail-oriented like that.

Copia was busy making small talk with some clergymen and women, while you were nursing a cup of lemon-water just to have something to do with your hands.

You heard someone coming up the stairs but didn’t think much of it at first.  “Sister Imperator,” a Sister greeted you— though you didn’t really process it until she reached out and touched your shoulder, making you turn around.

“Consortia,” you added once you realized she was addressing you.  “Sister Imperator Consortia.  Sister Imperator was my mother-in-law.”

“Oh, yes— I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offered gently.

You realized they were under the assumption that you knew her much better— maybe you would’ve if you’d been dating Copia before marrying him like, you know, most people do.  Instead of trying to explain, you just accepted her sympathies with a nod; it was a loss, after all, just not as personal as she might’ve imagined.

“I thought you might want to visit our convent,” she suggested.

“O-oh, um,” you stalled, nervously glancing over your shoulder at Copia as he sipped on a glass of water, “I—”

“He’ll be just fine,” she promised, leaning into you and lowering her voice.  “He knows meetings like the back of his hand.”

And he’ll probably fare better without me touching the back of his hand…

Nodding in agreement, you slipped out of the sitting room and followed her.

The woman introduced herself as Sister Nomina and guided you through the winding halls— Cardinal Comis had shown you the wing that housed the convent the night before on his tour, so you knew where it was, but you hadn’t been inside yet.  

“We keep a garden,” Sister Nomina explained, “and we have some outreach programs— an orphanage, a literacy program.  But nothing compared to what your church is doing!”

“Oh, yes,” you replied, “I suppose our reputation precedes us…”

“It must be very exhilarating, being in the Church of Ghost,” she presumed with a wide smile. 

“Well, I wish I could take more credit for all the work that's been done,” you 

The two of you arrived at the convent; visually it was similar to the one you'd been living in up until recently, but the inhabitants were quite different.  For one, they dressed a bit differently, and seemed to be more lenient with uniform (Sister Imperator would've never let that fly back home…).  And for another thing, they were much more excited to see you than anybody in your convent would've been on any given day. 

Actually, a group of nuns flocking to you excited reminded you of that day of the fateful clergy meeting— it felt like a lifetime ago already.

“Ladies, Sister Imperator Consortia from Linkoping,” Nomina introduced you to the group of women surrounding you, before reversing to introducing all of them to you.  “Sisters Mila, Lascivia, Camille, Perita, and Triette.”

“Lovely to meet you all,” you nodded, smiling warmly. 

“Give her some room, ladies, please!“ Nomina scolded gently, shooing them back with her hands until they took a few steps away from you. Admittedly, you appreciated the extra breathing room.

“Everybody's been looking forward to your visit immensely,” Nomina justified. “I hope you don't mind answering a few of their questions.”

“Of course not!”

Sister Camille piped up quickly: “As Sister Imperator Consortia, what responsibilities do you have?”

“W-well, I'm not qualified to serve on the clergy,” you explained, “because I wasn't nominated by the clergy— I was nominated, well, by my husband. So, mainly my job is to support him…”

“Did you grow up in the church?” Sister Perita asked politely.

“Well, yes and no,” you replied.  “I wasn’t raised a Satanist, so not in the traditional sense— but I ran away to join the church when I was still just a teenager… ever since then, up until rather recently, I was living in convents much like this one.”

That seemed to surprise Sister Triette.  “You really were another Sister of Sin, just like us?” she observed.

It wasn’t until then that you realized they didn't just find you interesting, but that they looked up to you— a role model of sorts, a Sister like them who was perceived as achieving some kind of greatness; it was sweet, even if you felt their admiration was misplaced.  “Yes, I was,” you nodded.

“Did you work closely with the Papa?” Sister Mila asked.

“No, my role mostly involved stewardship, administration, occasional gardening—”

That seemed to confuse them.  “So, then, how'd you fall in love?” Sister Perita wondered.

Your eyes widened; maybe you should've seen some of these questions coming and had answers prepared, but you were completely caught off-guard in that moment.  “O-oh, um, it's not a very interesting story…”

“No no, please!  We've all been dying to know since we heard you two were coming!” Camille insisted.

The Sisters leaned in excitedly in anticipation; you hadn't realized the news of your marriage had so much impact.  Then again, Copia was technically a celebrity— you just weren't used to his popularity outside of your own church.  “You're not all just trying to get pointers to seducing clergy so you can get a promotion, right?” you wondered with a frown.

“No!  We just want to hear how you two met,” Perita explained, “and how you realized you loved each other— and how he proposed!”

They all clapped and giggled excitedly, but all you could manage was a nervous grin.  The real story was definitely not going to satisfy them; you felt guilty imagining disappointing them with some clinical explanation of it all.  “W-well, how we met is sort of… obvious, I guess.  We met in Mass, when he was the Papa— he served me communion.  I didn't know him as a cardinal, I hadn't moved to his church yet, but he… well, I was pretty intimidated by him.  You can't blame me— it's the Papa, after all…”

Up until then, you had told the truth— but you started, for lack of a better term, winging it at that point.

“The first time we spoke— it was an unexpected thing, you see.  We bumped into each other, literally; I wasn't paying attention and he was rushing to get to a clergy meeting— I helped him pick up some books he’d dropped.” 

Clichéd?  Absolutely, but you felt like that was ultimately what they wanted to here: a too-good-to-be-true story about how an ordinary Sister was swept off her feet by such an important man.  Why the Papa would be running around carrying a stack of books is an absurd question for another day…

“We got to talking… we had more in common than we expected.  We bonded over—” you fought back a smirk as you figured out an easy lie— “slushies, actually. He said that traveling with the band meant hardly ever being in the same place, but that there was almost always a convenience store with slushies wherever he was. They became a comfort, I suppose.”

You decided not to go on and say that the two of you had played strip croquet together… probably too obvious of a reference.

“We were just friends for some time, but eventually we started to grow real feelings for each other,” you concluded simply.

They broke out into a collective aww; “What's he like?  You know, when he's not in front of so many people.”

“Um… he's not that different, I guess,” you mumbled, “maybe not as dramatic.  But he's so sensitive, too, and gentle…”

“I’ve always thought he would be that way,” Sister Lascivia agreed, “but intense, too, you know— like, dominating.”

You choked on your own throat for a second.  Why were you thinking about him at all?  “U-um, what makes you say that?” you wondered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, biting back a grin, “he just seems that way.”

“Y-you mean, on stage?” you pressed, but the line of questioning shifted suddenly when Sister Perita interrupted.

“And the proposal?  It must have been some fantastic gesture!” she assumed.  “Only fitting for a rockstar, right?”

“You’d think, but he doesn't really act like that… he's so humble.  Actually, it was very intimate,” you decided.  “He knows I can get a little overwhelmed with those big crowds, so instead we went out in a— um, little rowboat onto the lake nearby our church, right around sunset, and watched the stars come out… he played a little guitar for me, just to be nice because he knows I love how he plays— and then under the full moon, he told me that, uh…”

Why was your heart racing?  Why could you picture it so clearly in your mind, as if you weren’t just making it all up as you went along?

“That meeting me had made his heart whole,” you concluded.  “That he couldn't go on unless he knew we were going to spend the rest of our lives together… and he showed me the ring and— and, you know, all that.  Of course, I said yes right away.”

“Oh wow,” Sister Mila cooed— she looked as close to having heart-shaped irises as you’d ever seen anyone in real life.

But of course, another had to chime in as well: “And you don't get jealous, knowing how popular he is?  Plenty of people would kill for your spot, you know.”

You willed your eye not to twitch.  “He's, um… he's never given me any reason to be jealous,”   He's loyal, he always has been, even when we were just dating.  B-but we didn't date very long before we married…”

You realized you couldn’t retroactively ascribe some kind of fidelity to him— after all, he’d been a rockstar (as Perita had put it) on tour… 

And he’d been to this church before.  Your heart almost stopped as the sick thought entered your mind that he could’ve, potentially, hooked up with any of the people in this room; certainly Sister Lascivia would’ve probably jumped him if she got the chance, but she was far from the only candidate.  Come on, he was Papa fucking Emeritus the fucking IV, he had his pick of the litter if he so desired.

You knew it shouldn’t make any difference to you, you knew it was none of your business and you had no right to worry about it— but just the idea of him with one of them— with anyone—

“I guess he married you so quickly because he loves you so much,” Sister Nomina smiled.

You smiled back, even if you felt like you were still trying to keep bile down.  “Yes, I guess so.”

“And now you’re married to the head of the clergy; it’s like a fairytale or something!” Sister Mila beamed, clutching her hands together.

What kind of fairytales is this girl reading? “It all really has nothing to do with his status— Frater, Papa, Cardinal, he could be a janitor for all I care,” you assured her.  “I married him because he's the most patient, talented, generous man—”

You noticed the way many of them seemed to straighten up suddenly, the way Sister Perita’s eyes widened, and you spun over your shoulder to see Copia sauntering up behind you.  He had a good poker face, but there was an obvious smugness to it.  “What’s that they say?  Speak of the devil?” he mused as he leaned against the doorway.

“Oh, hello… dear,” you blurted out— seems you’d used up all your creativity on that fake meet-cute and proposal, didn’t have any left for a good term of endearment.  

“You’re not telling stories again, are you?” he asked, approaching you slowly, the slightest swagger in his step.

“Everyone’s very curious about you,” you explained.

“No, I don’t think so,” he denied, “they already know about me— they’re curious about us.”

Us sounded so nice when he said it like that.  He touched your shoulder for a moment, sliding his hand down to clasp at your upper arm.  Paradoxically, he acted more confident with an audience; you couldn’t tell if this was for your benefit, or theirs.

“Don’t go running off without me, hm?” he scolded sweetly.

“Yes, Frater,” you answered politely, wondering afterwards if it was too formal.

It didn’t seem to deter him: he brought his hand to your chin and held it delicately, keeping your head tilted up towards him.  “I worry when I lose sight of you,” he explained.  “We have to get ready for Mass soon, will you meet me at the chancel before the service begins?”

“Of course,” you agreed, smiling a little as he looked down at you so… lovingly?  Could that be the word?

You wondered if he would kiss you right then— you hadn’t kissed in public since your first kiss, and you thought you wanted to keep it that way… but wouldn’t it be a little fun, to show him off just a bit in front of these ladies?  Wouldn’t it be the best way to rub it in that he chose you?

Instead he only stroked your jaw with his thumb for a second, before letting go of you and stepping back.  He gave only one moment of attention to the women around you— with a quick bow of greeting and a polite “Sisters” — before spinning on his heel and departing.

You pressed your lips together and kept your eyes on the door even after he was gone; there was a heavy silence until the echoes of his steps down the hall faded.  Then they all broke into the squealy, girlish reactions you were expecting.

“Great Belial below!” “He’s so sensual!” “You can tell he’s completely enamoured with you!”

“O-oh, enamoured?” you repeated sheepishly.  “I don’t know, he’s just— like that…”

But your face warmed and you had to reach up to partially cover it with your hand— you didn’t want them to see your growing smile, in case someone asked why you were so giddy over a small interaction with your own husband.  

You departed from the convent not too long after that, knowing you didn’t have much time before Mass began and wanting to give yourself time to navigate to the chapel.  A walk through the church alone would’ve been a nice opportunity to clear your head, if your head was actually capable of clearing— but no, instead it was swirling with memories.  Memories all the way back as that first time he served you the body and blood, when he’d apparently taken an interest in you which eventually lead to this; memories as recent as the way he’d touched you just before.

Did it still make you feel a little nauseous knowing Sister Lascivia— and likely tens of thousands of other people— were somewhere out there thinking about how dominating he must be?  Yes, but you also felt a little proud of yourself… because that’s all they had, their thoughts.  You actually had a shot at finding out for yourself.

If you ever found the nerve, that is; regardless, you tried to push that thought process aside and actually listen to the priest as he officiated Mass that evening.  Of course, you really weren’t able to do that until being mentioned by name got your attention.

“And we have some visitors this Mass!” the priest announced.  “Frater Imperator and Sister Imperator Consortia—they’ve come all the way from the church of Ghost in Sweden!  Give them a warm welcome, will you?”

As the congregation applauded, Copia stood up; you followed suit quickly, getting a good look at the sea of people in pews all looking at you both.  You hadn’t seen a crowd like this since your wedding.  

Your smile was genuine but flustered when Copia placed his decorated hand on your shoulder; it already made your heart tremble when he did it in front of a few Sisters of Sin, this was on a whole new level.  He guided you a little closer to him, tucking you into his side, and you looked out over the massive crowd before glancing at the glove on your shoulder— namely, the wedding ring on it.

Then you looked at his face, at how polite and distinguished he looked standing before all these people.  “What do I do?” you asked your husband in a whisper.

“Hm?” he pressed, only briefly glancing at you.

“With all this attention,” you clarified, “what am I meant to do?”

“Just smile,” he encouraged.  “All they want is to see you.  Just give them a smile, maybe a little wave if you’re feeling generous.”

He was a showman, he knew what he was doing— you tried to copy him, with moderate success.  It was comforting, somehow, to see him in his element.  Unfortunately, how comfortable he was here only served as kindling for the flame of insecurity in the back of your mind.  Because he’s him, and you’re just… you.

And there in that sea of congregation members were plenty of those people you’d had mentioned to you before: the ones who would kill to have your spot.

~

“You should be proud of yourself,” he grinned as he took his seat across from you on the jet once again— it felt like so much had happened since the last time you were here.  “You shouldn’t be so adverse to social engagements, you’re a natural.”

“No, definitely not,” you laughed a bit, “but I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would.  You made it easier for me.”

“They love you already, darling,” he promised, and the casual affectionate name made you smile even more, though you tried to hide it from him.  “So does everyone back at our church— anyone who knows you would, really.”

Your heart swelled, but you just hummed and looked away in lieu of responding.  

Of course, as soon as your heart was happy, your brain had to pop in and ruin it: that smile on Sister Lascivia’s face, the way she was so clearly picturing your husband in some kind of compromising way.  And the horrible, sick idea that maybe she didn’t have to just imagine it.

Copia was already prepared for a quiet flight— he had his legs crossed and a book open in his lap, his chin resting on one of his hands as he read.  You looked at him for a moment, appreciating how calm he seemed to always be; sometimes it was hard to believe he was the same man with that rockstar reputation, but you knew it was too naive to assume just because he could be quiet that he must not have lived to the fullest in his time as the Papa.

You managed to distract yourself by watching out the window as the jet took off, but once you were high enough to break through the clouds, the view was basically just white light and was not nearly interesting enough to keep your mind occupied.

It shouldn’t have even mattered!  So what if he was a bit more intimately acquainted with someone you’d met on that trip?  It didn’t make any difference now.  Yet, it was all you could think of, and even knowing it would only bring you pain, you compared yourself to her— she was quite pretty, after all, even with that habit covering up most of her.  Maybe she was more his type… maybe she was exactly his type.

By that point you’d basically convinced yourself it was true, without any evidence at all.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but for some reason you couldn’t seem to hold back the words forming there.  “Do you know any of the Sisters there?” you heard yourself ask before you could stop yourself.  “I-I mean, did you know any of them before today...”

“Eh… no, I don’t think so,” he mumbled.

“But you’ve been to the church before,” you recalled, “you know Comis.”

“Well, yes, he’s their main ambassador— Sisters come and go, you know.”

You nodded, and he looked back down at his book.  You let the moment rest for a few seconds that felt like an eternity.  “It’s just that—”

He sighed a little and shut his book.

“They seemed to be so fascinated by you,” you explained.  “I think you had quite a few fans there.”

“Fans?  You mean, the band?” he raised an eyebrow, and you nodded.  “Then that’s not me, is it?  I just sang for a while— I’m interchangeable, by design.”

“But still— you were, are, so popular.”

“Eh… if you say so…”

“Come on,” you tilted your head, a bit of frustration leaking into your tone, “don’t be like that— you know what you’re doing.”

He looked a little confused, if not almost hurt by the implied accusation of deceitfulness.  “What are you asking me about?” he pressed, narrowing his eyes.

“Did you fuck any of them?”

Your eyes widened when you heard yourself say it— you really couldn’t believe you’d just word-vomited it out like that.  He seemed a little shocked, too, but much more amused than anything.  You didn’t like it at all, the way he smiled; it made you feel even more stupid for asking it, for thinking it even.

“I’m sorry,” you said instantly, “I shouldn’t have—” I shouldn’t have started this conversation while we’re trapped together for four hours, for one thing— “it’s not my place.  Forget I asked, it doesn’t matter.”

“Now now,” he cooed, “if it concerns you, then it matters.”

He was teasing you— dangling it in front of you.  “It doesn’t concern me,” you assured, “in every sense of the word— it’s none of my concern.”

“You look concerned.”

“Yes, but… that's my problem, not yours.”

He sighed, looking at you as if he were a little disappointed for some reason.  “Do you remember our vows, tesoro?”

You swallowed thickly.  Not really, I'm pretty sure I was in the middle of an anxiety-induced blackout.  “Uh…” you stalled.

“We agreed to care for each other, to share our hearts forever,” he reminded you.  “That means that if something upsets you, then it upsets me.  Even if you think it's silly— and from what I can tell, it's not.”

“Of course it is,” you rolled your eyes.  “It's silly to ask a famous musician if he slept with any fans— of course you did.”

“I did,” he admitted, “but surely not with the frequency you're imagining.  And not with anyone in Brussels, if that's any comfort.”

You crossed your arms over yourself self-consciously, looking out the window even though the cloudy scenery hadn't changed much.

“Of course I've had lovers before— you have too, I know.  I hope we won't hold that against each other.”

“Yes, of course,” you sighed.  “Obviously I never expected, or even wanted, either of us to be virginal or something, Satan forbid.  And there's nothing wrong with you meeting women on the road, either… it's just… is it wrong that thinking about it makes me kind of want to strangle someone?”

He laughed; “No,” he assured, “I don't think so.”

Unfortunately, he was right— that talking about it made you feel a little better.  

“Is it wrong that I think you're especially sexy when you're jealous?”

Your throat caught and you looked away from him quickly, holding your face in your hand as an excuse to cover it, but he obviously noticed the way you crossed your legs tightly.  His eyes raked over you, you could feel it somehow even when you were refusing to actually look back at him.

“I don’t think you have much right to be so shy, after asking me such personal questions,” he purred.  

“I-I’m not being shy,” you denied in a mumble, “I just didn’t expect you to say that.”

“I hope it doesn’t offend you—”

“No!  No,” you assured quickly, letting go of your heated face to look down into your lap.  “You’re being sweet, thank you.”

“It’s only the truth,” he insisted.  “Let’s always tell each other that, alright?  Just the truth.”

You nodded in agreement, finding the strength to meet his gaze again; the look in his eyes was just like the one he’d had when he found you in the convent.  It must not have been just for show, then… 

“Promise you’ll get some rest while we fly,” he sighed, “we won’t be landing until the late evening and we have quite a day ahead tomorrow.”

You only remembered it right then: your wedding reception.  As if you hadn’t had enough excitement for a lifetime in this week already.

~

It was a unique reception in a number of ways, probably too many to count.  First of all, most receptions happen right after the wedding, of course— but late night Masses left little time for that.  Secondly, receptions usually have speeches and sentimental things for the families of the betrothed; while Copia’s family of phantasms were in attendance, they didn’t have much to say, and what could they say?  They didn’t even know you.  So, instead, your reception was much more of the good stuff: dancing, eating, drinking, and good old-fashioned partying.

And then there was, you know, the demonic statues and sacrifices.  But that, to you, wasn’t so out of the ordinary.

You were seated at the head table with him, watching the crowd in all their merriment, feeling an odd sense of pride— of responsibility for all this joy.  It wasn’t like you’d planned this, it was a gift from the clergy who had done the work of putting it together, but technically you were half of what was being celebrated.

Maybe it was just appreciation for home, after your trip to Brussels.  It was always nice to see familiar faces filled with joy.

He leaned in closer to you so you could hear him over the music as he spoke, and you felt his breath on your shoulder.  “I'm sorry we didn't have time for this sooner,” he said.

“Oh!  I wouldn't have known what to do if we'd done it any sooner,” you admitted with a laugh.  Not that you especially knew what to do now— but you at least, by now, knew how to fake knowing what to do.

“And I’m sorry we couldn’t do something a little more traditional,” he added.

“Traditional?” you repeated with a laugh.

“What’s that American thing, where they feed each other the wedding cake?” he raised an eyebrow.  “Maybe we should have done that… I’ve always thought it looked sweet.”

You had no idea he had any opinions about things like that; it was endearing to imagine he ended up watching wedding videos at some point and wanted something like that for himself.  “Well, we can still do that another time,” you offered, “when there aren’t so many people watching.”

Again, you didn’t quite put together how that sounded until he cleared his throat and his cheeks pinkened at bit; of course it sounded suggestive when you phrased it like that, how could you have not seen that coming?!

Before you could correct yourself, though— or decide if you actually did need to correct anything— the ghouls on the chancel began playing a familiar song.

It didn’t sound the same, of course, with another singer filling in, but you could so easily hear Copia’s voice in those words:  You'll soon be hearing the chime, close to midnight…

He stood up suddenly, and you looked up at him.  “May I have this dance, cara mia?” he asked with an extended hand.

You took it with a smile; “I think one of the privileges of marriage is that you don't have to ask me that.”

Guiding you to the dancefloor, it felt like one of those movie scenes with the way the crowd parted for you on their own.  Was there a spotlight on you or was that just your imagination?

One of the few things you'd known about him before marrying him was that he was quite a dancer— what you hadn't known until now was how much you enjoyed dancing.  He made it easy, guiding you through the moves so well that people would probably think you had more experience than you did.

You had every right to be nervous, and you were, but for the first time it felt sort of… good?  Surely the alcohol in your system was aiding you, but it wasn’t just that.  Your heart was racing but you didn’t feel the urge to run and hide; he was smiling at you, he was pulling you closer, and for just a few moments you were suddenly fearless.

I just wanna be, wanna bewitch you in the moonlight

I just wanna be, wanna bewitch you all night

He spun and dipped you, making you laugh with exhilaration.  When he pulled you back up, the look in his eyes almost took your breath away… so determined, yet romantic and vulnerable.  A look you felt like only he could pull off.

If the song’s lyrics were some sort of manifestation, then it was working: you were totally bewitched by him.  It was just the two of you and the music playing, it was just his hands holding and guiding you, it was just this perfect moment that you could hardly believe was happening to you.  Weren’t you just an ordinary Sister this time two weeks ago?

You knew when the song was nearly over, and when he spun you one more time and pulled you into him, your hand came up to the side of his face, your leg lifted to slightly straddle his side… your eyes drifted down to his lips.

Just one more split-second and you would’ve kissed him.  Not just any kiss, you would’ve kissed him like you never had before— like nobody ever had before.  

But the crowd of people around you instead began to proudly clap and cheer, and it tore you out of the moment; honestly, you’d sort of forgotten you were surrounded by all the guests.  You looked away from Copia and smiled at the people who had watched you dance, hardly even noticing that he never stopped looking at you.

It went by too quickly— not just the song but the whole night.  All too soon, you were back in your room; ears still ringing, heart still thumping, and (less enjoyably) feet still a little bit sore from dancing in new shoes despite having changed into your night clothes and comfy socks already.

As Copia walked to his side of the bed in his own signature embroidered pyjamas, you fell back on the bed limply, laying your arms out wide and staring up at the ceiling with a sigh— a happy sigh of course, a does this night really have to end? sigh.  “That was wonderful,” you announced with a beaming smile.  “I didn't think I'd enjoy it so much, but it was perfect.”

“I hoped you would,” Copia agreed.  “You've seemed so tense— I'm not sure I ever saw you looking so relaxed, and joyful… you look so beautiful that way.”

“Y-you don't have to flatter me,” you mumbled, pulling your arms back in towards yourself as tilted your head back to look at him— upside down, but still at him.

“Of course, I never would,” he assured, laying down carefully on the bed beside you.  “It's just the truth.  I bet everyone was as taken with you as I was… but only I got to dance with you.”

You smiled a little more softly, admiring how sweet he could be— a side of him you felt privileged to see so close.  You wanted to say something, but you really had no idea how to respond to a statement like that, or even how to just take the compliment.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked quietly.

“O-of course,” you answered, “you can tell me anything.”

“I-I'm a little embarrassed,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “but I… I've seen Heathers.”

You tilted your head, laughing in confusion.

“I don't know why I lied to you before,” he shook his head, “I know it quite well— I saw it in theaters when it was released!  I just— I thought— I'm not sure.  I guess I liked you explaining it to me.”

Your heart jumped, and you looked down at the bed under you sheepishly, as if your finger tracing the pattern on the quilt was fascinating all of a sudden.

“I wanted to give you an excuse to talk to me,” he added.

“You… you could've just… talked,” you told him quietly.  “It wasn't like I would've ignored you.”

“Yes, I know,” he sighed, “but the moment never felt right.”

“How does the moment feel now?” you asked shyly.

“Oh, tesoro, everything about tonight feels perfect.”

Your heart skipped a beat; everything?

You wondered, of course, if he would try something again; it was hard not to imagine that, since this was such a similar set of circumstances to that very first night.  But it felt so different, too— it felt less terrifying, for one thing, and less confusing.

But instead of letting yourself wonder about that for too long— afraid he’d somehow see it on your face, and know what you were picturing— you sat up a little bit and propped yourself up on your elbows.

“I asked why you chose me already,” you began, “but I never asked the bigger question, did I?  That is, why you got married at all.”

He sighed shortly before he answered.  “My mother, she asked me to get married.  At first, I thought it was just the will of the clergy.  I understand now it was much more than that.”

“She wanted you to be happy,” you assumed.

“Yes, yes…” he trailed off, looking to the side.  “She knew I didn't want to be alone anymore.”

Your heart twisted a little; “I figure the Papa himself never has to be alone,” you mumbled through a sheepish smile.  “You could take anyone to bed you wanted, a new companion every night.”

He chuckled a little.  “I think you know that's not what I mean— I learned better than anyone that being by oneself and being alone are different things,” he explained.  “Even if I did find the time and energy for a thousand lovers, I would've still been lonely without a real partner… something to call my own.  But I never had the time— or, I told myself that, to justify why I didn't have anyone.”

You understood that better than he could know— better than you wanted to realize.

“My parents loved each other, but spent most of their lives apart,” he explained.  “I don't want to be like that.  I don't want to have something beautiful and let it go to waste.”

He looked at you right then, and it seemed like it meant something but you wouldn't let yourself imagine what.

“Could I kiss you again?” he asked softly.  It sort of completely caught you off-guard, not what he said but the way he said it: the unsureness in his voice, the slight flush on his face.

You didn't answer with words, you simply reached up and brushed your fingers through the hair at his temple, where it was turning silver— another reminder of how long he'd been alone. 

You moved your hand in to cradle his face, leaning closer.

There was something shockingly comfortable about it, like you'd known each other for years.  You had grown to care for him, you couldn't deny that, but you surprised even yourself by how you pulled him closer as he kissed you.

It brought back memories of your wedding night, of course, and you couldn't decide if it felt like just yesterday or months ago.  All that fear and anxiety you'd been nearly crushed by then— it was only a distant memory, to the point that it was almost hard to believe you were the same person who had felt all that.

In some ways, you weren't.

His hand gently rested on your side, before carefully moving around to your lower back to keep you pressed against him.  Why did that feel so perfect?  His head tilted a little more, his kiss deepened a little more, you sighed a little heavier. 

As he pulled away, he looked into your eyes; you saw something new and totally indescribable in them.

If he kisses me again, I won't be able to say no to him, you realized.

He only smiled at you gently, his fingers brushing over your cheek.  “Goodnight, darling,” he offered quietly.

You were still in shock just a bit as he kissed your temple softly, before pulling back and turning to face away from you as he climbed under the covers.  Blinking quickly, you wondered if you would've asked him not to stop if he'd given you a chance.

Slowly laying down yourself, you faced towards him and sighed a little as you looked at the back of him.

You stared at him for so long that night, watching him sleep, willing yourself to just reach over and wake him; to run your fingers through his hair until he stirred and turned to face you.  And then you wouldn’t have to say anything, you could just kiss him and he’d understand.  All you had to do was lift your hand and touch him… then his arms would be around you, his lips would be on you, his weight would press you into the bed…

You fell asleep before you ever found the nerve.  But that’s not to say you fell asleep quickly; no, not at all.

[exhaslo]

Would you ever consider doing anything for Miguel/Fem!Deadpool reader?

One who's honestly just kind of tease which makes it impossible for Miguel to figure out *why* he hates her flirting with other spidermen so much until the penny hits.

Bonus points for recklessness and brat energy from DP we all know they aint got no self control. Needs Miguel to definitely put her in her place.

Ohhhh, I have seen so much fan art of just regular Deadpool being a menace to Miguel, Dr. Strange and the TVA. It gets me excited to see the new movie coming out!

But yea, let's give into the chaos!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, bondage, angry sex?, p in v, language

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"For fuck's sake, why is there so many anomaly's popping up in different universes?" Miguel barked, tapping against his screens as he sent numerous Spiderman and women out to the field.

"Actually, based on the energy signatures, it seems to be the same anomaly."

"Impossible, one person jumping around all of these?" Miguel cussed lowly, trying to identify the new anomaly.

This new frustration was giving Miguel a reason to want to drink tonight. The speed he was working to try and understand this problem was honestly amazing. This was probably the fastest he has ever worked.

"Wow! No wonder why all of the Spiders I met say great things about you!" You gasped.

"Que?! (What)" Miguel hissed, seeing both a new intruder alert and anomaly alert appear at the same time, "Who-"

"Haiiiiiii! Pleasure to meet you, sexy ass, my name is (Y/N), I'm like the hottest version of me there is-"

"I. Don't. Care." Miguel hissed, jumping down from his platform and approaching you, "This attire...fuck-"

"Yeeeeep! I'mma Deadpool!" You chirped.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose before taking long, deep breathes. Once he regained a portion of his composure, he proceeded to grab you by the collar and drag you to the 'Go Home' Machine.

At least one of his problems were solved today. Hopefully you will stay in your dimension. Trying to ignore your chatter, Miguel couldn't help but notice some of the other Spiders avoiding eye contact. This annoyed Miguel. How many of them ran into you before saying anything?

"Hm? Oh like half of them." You replied. Miguel groaned loudly,

"Wasn't even a thought bubble," He muttered under his breathe before arriving in the room, "I don't want to see you here again. Stay in your world."

"Awe, but isn't fun! Not when I found such a squeezable ass-"

"Send. Her. Home!" Miguel spat.

It only took a second, but you were sent home immediately. Miguel took another deep breathe before returning to his office to hopefully relax.

----------

"Hehe, he gets so mad when he finds me wandering around this place. It totally isn't my fault that all of you guys think of taking a break here and I just-hop into those thoughts and end up here!" You huffed, talking to Peter B. Parker and Jessica.

"Yeah, yeah, we still don't understand the whole hopping into thought bubbles thing you say you do. It's so confusing." Peter huffed.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. I'd like to describe it as a comic book, but you guys won't understaaaaand, the readers will though!"

"Readers?" Jessica groaned softly. You just laughed,

"Oh yeah! The readers reading this now! So like, normally it's a comic I hop around or thought bubbles or I just rip through the screen, but this time...It's the readers who bring me here!"

"I think I'm more confused than when I started," Peter whined and turned to Jessica who tossed you into the 'Go Home' machine, "Look, just...don't come back before Miguel gets bad again."

"Hpmh! I just said it isn't my fault I keep coming back!" You whined loudly, "The readers and writer keeps bringing me here! I am meant to share my wisdom to Miguel!"

"Why do I hear that Deadpool's voice?" Miguel grumbled, holding a cup of coffee as he walked by, "Again?"

"See! He neeeeeeds me! That has to be why the writer keeps putting me here!"

"What the hell is she babbling about now?"

"Please, don't ask. I don't think my brain can handle anymore." Peter whimpered. Jessica waved him aside,

"She's going home now, Miguel."

Just as the machine turned on, you immediately got sent home. Miguel let out a sigh of relief and right when he was going to drink his coffee, you appeared behind him.

"Fuck!" Miguel yelled as he noticed you. You just casually waved,

"Believe in the spirits beyond."

"I want her gone!"

"Miguel, we've tried so many times. I think...we just need to accept her appearing here." Jessica whispered. You grabbed Miguel's cup, taking a sip,

"Oof, so bitter. So now that I can stay here under the writer decides to let me go home, wanna show me around, big boy?"

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he followed you, mainly just wanting his coffee back.

------------

It has been a few weeks since you've stayed at the-

"Whoa, whoa. Really writer? You gonna make here stay here for weeks without going home?" You huffed.

Okay, sorry, um, it has been a few weeks since you started to willingly appear at the Spider Society.

"Thank you!"

....

Uh, anyway, Miguel has finally started to tolerate you to a certain degree. You still couldn't understand why you kept appearing there, but you were making the most of it. Miguel on the other hand, was starting to find something new to irritate him.

"It's just so fascinating how different each of you are~ Can I touch those wonderful large boobs of yours?" You whispered in awe towards a Spiderman. Yes a Spiderman.

"They're not boobs."

"It's okay to not want to admit your flaws. I buried mine with my neighbor." You whispered, slowly reaching out to the boob.

"Enough." Miguel hissed, grabbing the back of your collar and dragging you to his office.

"Hey! I was about to grab something that could have been the most magically experience of my life!"

Miguel chose to ignore you, growing annoyed at your bratty and quite ignorant behavior. Honestly, he was more annoyed by the amount of flirting you've been doing with the other Spiders. You just didn't know when to stop.

"I can't help it. A natural icon I am," You chuckled and grabbed Miguel's ass, "But this...is a multiverse icon."

Miguel's eyes lit up as he locked his door and tossed you on his platform. In an instant, he webbed you in place, making sure that you couldn't move to try to free yourself.

"Ohhhh~ This is kinky~" You cooed, rolling around like a worm. Miguel pinned you to the floor, his blood red eyes piercing into yours,

"Do you know how frustrated you make me?"

"So...you aren't happy to see me?" You grinned, your knee poking at his growing erection, "I made you horny!"

"Silence," Miguel covered your mouth, "Shit, you're so annoying. No one has been able to put you in your place. Do I need to be the one to do that?" He said with a huff.

You licked his hand in response, "Awe, not sure if a fucking will stop me, but you are so willing to try~" You hummed.

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he captured your lips in a kiss, wanting to shut you up. You couldn't help yourself and smirked, enjoying this moment. Parting your lips, you hummed as Miguel forced his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming your body.

"Mhm~ Gim....sq..." You tried to say. Miguel broke the kiss, glaring towards your,

"What?" He grumbled, biting and sucking against your neck. You chuckled as his hands reached your breasts,

"Give em a squeeze~ You know you wanna~"

"Do I have to shut your mouth again?" Miguel grumbled, kissing you again.

You tried your best to behave, you truly did. You couldn't help but try to grind against his hips, press your chest to his, or even kiss his neck. Miguel was ready to web your mouth, at least until he started to rub your-

"Whoa, whoa, writer, now I don't mind a good sex scene, but lemme have some privacy here!" You huffed.

Uh, I kind of wrote smut in the warning...so I'm giving the readers what they want, a sex scene.

"Well, I want this man to myself right now! You write other smuts! Let them read those!"

But they wanted this...I can't just-

"Consent!" You huffed, literally spreading your legs towards a feral Miguel who had you pinned, "This is different! I'm totally into this freaky shit!"

"Who are you talking too?" Miguel grumbled, ripping your suit. You shushed towards him,

"The writer! Wait juuuuust a second before shoving that monster of a cock inside me!"

I need to give them a sex scene here. You're already helping me write it.

"No, no! You are trying to write it. I'm trying to enjoy the moment. So be a good writer and juuuuuuuust-"

---------

"Thank you~"

What just happened?

"Oh, I totally skipped the part where Miguel fucked me so good that I actually did shut up. Hell, I think I still feel weak in the knees. Who would have known the stamina and strength that man had. Fucking hot, can't wait to-"

You skipped my story?! I'm the writer here!

"Yeaaaaaah, but like, you can always write more smut. Let me just enjoy that moment to me~. I'm sure you understand~" You cooed.

...

"Hehe, go on. End the story. I'm sure you have other smut to write."

I just- Whatever.

Let's just say, you made yourself a permanent member of the Spider Society. You made sure to annoy Miguel just enough so that he could keep teaching you a lesson. Hopefully, we'll get to see one of those lessons one of these days.

"Maybe~ If I decide to show the goods."

Freaking Deadpools.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hahaha, hope you enjoyed! I always loved it when Deadpool would just talk to the narrator or hop comic pages sometimes. It was great.

@tojishugetiddies

[cornyforjk]

Your quite treason | JJK

ᥫ᭡pairing: married exbsf!jungkook x female reader 

ᥫ᭡genre: ex best friends, forbidden love , angst rating: 16+

ᥫ᭡warnings: drug and alcohol usage, mentions of cheating, swearing, depressed, obsession, crying and all that stupid stuff.

ᥫ᭡word count: around 20K (ik it's too much but i couldn't control my feelings 😩)

ᥫ᭡summary: Your love for Jeon Jungkook was ruining your life.

ᥫ᭡inspiration: Fortnight by The Motherr Taylor Swift (ft.Post Malone)

ᥫ᭡listen to: Fortnight by The Motherr Taylor Swift (ft.Post Malone), happier by Olivia Rodrigo

ᥫ᭡Author's note: AHHHH, okay, woof. This is the first ever fanfic I'll post, tho I've written many but never posted. Please bare if there's any grammatical mistake and if my writing feels too much.

Show some love and your suggestions are welcome in the comment section 😗

____________________________________

Hello Mrs. Park, how have you been?" You turn around to find Minji, speaking to you while watering the flowers of her front garden.

Minji, Jeon Minji. She always made you feel like the worst person, tho she never meant it. In fact,she's the sweetest and the kindest person you've ever known. And that's why, she's in the position you've always dreamed to be in. That's why she has the man you've always dreamt of.

And the fact, you can never be her nor in her position, makes you feel like the worst person on this earth.

"Hello, Mrs. Jeon, I've been doing just fine. How about you? " Tho your tongue burnt on the feeling of reffering her by the title,you still held up a smile. A smile behind which no one could see the pain. "I'm great, actually! But you, Mrs. Park, you look unwell." You sensed the concern to be genuine and you hated that. "Oh yeah, just tired from work. Yk it's too much these days." You replied, not wanting her to noticing anything wrong with you. "Ah, I understand. Work can get stressful, but I'm sure everything will get tell well soon." She smiles at you, and you see another reason why she's deserves the title more.

You smile back at her and thank her before leaving towards your house, your insides burning with the urge to kill her right then.

"There's a new couple shifting in the house behind ours" Jaehyun, your husband says while he's eating his breakfast. "Oh, in the Jung's? Didn't think they'll actually sell it" You reply, as you pack your lunch, not really caring for the fact. You forgot about it and the new info never crossed your mind once in the day.

It was when the bell rang and you opened the door only to face the new neighbors. Him, Oh god, It's him. Your excitement died the next second when you saw a very pretty women standing right beside him, her arm wrapped around his. "Oh-Oh hey Y/N. I totally didn't expect you! " His face evident with surprise. "You know her, babe?" The woman asked him. "Yeah, hun. She's a college friend. " That's when you felt your heart clench tightly.

Jeon Jungkook, the guy who you've been loving since your collage days even when you got married. The guy you thought of every night before you slept, the guy you thought about when woke up in the morning, the guy you thought about everytime when you ate icecream. Jeon Jungkook, was your friend who you trusted with your life. But now, he was just a stranger you know everything about. (Stranger by the loml Olivia Rodrigo, but the oc isn't over kookie😩)

"H-Hi. How are you J-Jungkook." You couldn't believe it. You've cried so many nights for him. Praying to get back in his arms, have him in your life as anyone, if not a lover. But now that he comes back, he's married. And very happily, you can see.

"I'm doing very well, Y/N. This is Jeon Minji, my wife. We have just shifted in the house right behind your backyard. So nice to see you again." You could feel your eyes pinch with pain, but you tried your best to pull up a bright smile. You can do this, you're very good at hiding feelings. Come on Y/N. "

I'm so happy to see you too. And hello Minji, nice to meet you. Well come in you both. " You move aside for them to come in but the refuse by saying, " It's fine, Y/N. We were just her to Introduce, but guess we don't need to do that. " Minji chuckles and continues, "But we'll see you soon. Have a good night. " She smiles at you, and you feel your legs tickling with jealousy. "You too have a good night, and please don't hesitate if you need any help in shifting. Both me and my husband are willing to help."

You fail to notice Jungkook stiffen as he's reminded that you're married too. He doesn't know why but he's always been uneasy with you being in a relationship and he has no idea why.

Both of them agree and leave after a short goodbye. You shut the door and you suddenly feel all the strength leaving your body. You collapse against the main door, still not believing everything that happened. All the memories that you were burying, we're now out of your control . You could hear his voice, feel his touch and his warmth. Tears made their way out of your eyes as you cry silently.

You unlock the main door to your house as you get inside. It's been so long since they've moved but you can't get yourself to move on. You reach the kitchen to grab a can of bear in an attempt to calm yourself down. But nothing seems to work, every drink or drug, leaves only a temporary effect. You continue loving jungkook even when you're high. You decide to take a cold shower when you hear the main door open again, only to see your shitty husband entering.

Jaehyun, both as a husband and a person, might be the worst guy you've ever met. You don't understand how he's able to lie on your face so smoothly. If you had control, you would have never married him. But fate and your parents had a different plan for you.

Around 2 months ago, your friend Sarah sent you a picture of Jaehyun with a girl sitting on his lap, and they were heavily making out. You didn't feel any pain in your heart but only shame, it felt like he had stepped hard on your dignity, your self respect. He made you feel like the most undeserving person, and he definitely did that intentionaly.

Ever since then, you've never started and conversation with him, disgusted to even look at him. And you guess, it makes it easier for him to leave the house whenever and stay at the girl's place. But you don't bring yourself to care, your mind always drift to jungkook and his very happy married life.

They're living their best lives, the typical rom-com like love life. Jungkook never leaves without a kiss with his wife. And Minji is always ready to welcome him by door when it's time for him to return.

When you had the same time routine, you always witnessed them being the happiest around each other and you had to change your timings. You couldn't bare seeing them being all lovey-dovey, so you leave for work earlier and arrive back home later.

"Y/N? " You were too drunk to hear him calling you. He called you out a few times before his hands reach your right arm to turn you around. "What the fuck!" You slurred, your drunkenness now evident to jungkook. "What are you doing here Y/N?? " He asks you with a strict voice, which soon melts when he sees you pout. "Kook, oh it's you thank god. I thought It was some guy again. " You said slowly as you moved closer to him. You were too drunk and high to remember the argument you had earlier. "Let's get you home Y/N. Don't you have morning classes tomorrow,hm? " He speaks very softly, as is talking to a kid. You mover your side to side, disagreeing with him and then you say, "Noo, let's have another drink and dance. I missed youuu" You wrap your arms around his neck, as your pouts grows even more. He chuckles while holding your waist just as tightly as you're holding him.

He agrees with you and empties the red cup you were having rum and coke in. Both of you weren't a fan of frat parties but whenever you're both together, everything feels the best. Jungkook's breathe fans over your neck as you both dance along On the floor by JLo.

When the chorus of the song starts you along with most of the other girls turn around to twerk along, as if it's a mandatory ritual. Jungkook's cheeks and ears turn bright pink as your ass grazed his crotch a few times while dancing and he wishes you don't notice. You turn back around to hold him again because when you weren't, you felt a certain type of coldness even when you're in bw so many people. His warmth was something which can get you just as high as a joint.

Both of you melted in each other's arms and stayed that way for so long, you didn't even know what song was playing now. "Mhmm, kookie can i kiss you? Just once I promise. " Jungkook wanted it, he wanted you to kiss him forever but he knew it's not safe for your friendship. He can't let his feelings over take him because he knows you only see him as a friend (who you might kiss sometimes 🤭) but how can he say no to you, especially when you're being so cute and adorable. So he decides to fuck it and bend down to kiss you. He captures your lips in a kiss as you both make out in the middle of the crowd. Jungkook felt like the luckiest person ever to have you like this. He has always been so happy that you're open to him with your feelings and uhm.

And you felt similar, just as euphoric and wanted this moment to last forever. Oh, how you wish to have him in all the ways possible. Even pray for it at every 11:11 you notice. And everything feels so good with him around. You were so in love with him but you knew he wasn't.

He has always been the best friend, the bestest you could ask for. But best friends can never be together, thec can never have feelings for each other because it always results in heartbreaks.

And so it did, both of yours heart broke quite terribly. When jungkook had to leave for USA after he got a job placement but he told you about it just 2 days before. Out of anger, you didn't talk to him neither did you come to see him off at the airport. Both of you were hurt, and you both had your reasons.

Next morning when you were returning from a morning run, you ran into Jungkook by the mail box. "Good Morning, Y/N" He wishes you and you just wanted to jump in his arms. "Oh, Good Morning to you too Jungkook! " You wished him back trying to match his level of energy. "How have you been? " You ask him further.

"I've been great, what about you? "

"I'm doing well too. " You reply, knowing you always feel well around him. "Good to hear that. The weather has been terrible these days" He says, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah, ikr. It's so hot these days,even when it's just February." You both continue talking about random things when he invites you and Jaehyun over for dinner.

"Thank you for the invite, but i don't think Jaehyun will be able to make it, he comes back late these days. " You say and Jungkook could sense your hesitation on the topic of your husband. And ofc, him being the kindest human being , he asked, "oh, btw, is everything fine between you both? Minji mentioned you being very stressed these days. You know you can always reach out. " with concern evident in his eyes.

It became difficult to maintain an eye contact because you both know how terrible you're at lying to him. "W-well, yeah everything is fine between us" You say, your eyes roaming everywhere but jungkook. He knows that's not the truth so he persuades, "Y/N, yk you can't lie to me so tell me what's up? " When you finally meet his eyes, you feel like crying.

He thinks your misery is because of your husband but who's gonna tell him that he's the reason. He's why you're suffering, he's why you're depressed and he's the reason of your misery. You give him a little smile, and when you're about to continue, you get a phone call from your husband. "Uhh, I'll have to take this up. " You tell him and he says, "okay Y/N, I'll get going but please ask for any help that you need, hm? " With that you both smile at each other and leave.

"What? " You ask Jaehyun. "You're not at home? Where are you? " You turn around and see him at the main door. You scoff realising that he's coming back from that girl's place and you want to kill him right there.

It had been a week since you met him and now you were walking towards their house around 10pm. Your dad had been calling since morning but you couldn't answer his once . Though you're high as fuck but you can't find your phone, and that's why you're going to jungkook's place to ask for any of theirs phone.

You ring the bell and wait there for a few seconds. The gate opens and you're met with a just out of shower Jungkook. Your breathe hitches and you feel your cheeks burning. He's just as hot. "Umm, hi Y/N.all good? " He speaks, breaking your trance.

"Oh hellooo" You give him a 90° bow which startles him "I'm good how are youu? " Your words trail of as your brain suddenly feels numb. "Wait- are you drunk? " He recognises your drunken voice but you deny him by saying,

"Noooo. I'm not drunkk I'm Highh hehe" You start giggling and it confuses hi even more "I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but i need your phone." You pout, and jungkook feels like he's floating. He knows how it is, but your pout still softens him. "Come inside, it's cold. "

"Your wife isn't at home? " You ask him to which he replies, "no she's out with her friends for drinks."

"Oh cool"

You get inside his house and are amazed how pretty they've made it. This place screams jungkook and it feels so much like home. "So what brings you here? " He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ohh yeahh my phone was calling and I need to call him back but i can't find my dad" You pout again. This time he chuckles, laughing at your words.

"You can't find your dad?" His lips pulling into his iconic bunny smile.

"Yeahh, I can't find my dad. Can you give me your dad so i can call my dad, pleaseeee"

"Here you go, here's my dad" If you both were still young , he would've have teased you a lot. But you both have grown up and even though he wanted to, he couldn't.

"Thank you so muchhhh" You busy yourself dialing your no. when he asked you, "where's your husband tho? "

You were trying so hard to dial your no. correct, that you didn't realize when you said, "he's probably at his girlfriend's. "

"What"

"Holy fuck"

"Shit shit, you didn't hear anything" Your eyes widen with horror and you scolded yourself internally. "Wait fr? Jaehyun's cheating on you? And you know that?? " His eye balls almost out of the sockets, shock evident in his voice.

"Uhh, no no, Yk I'm-im drunk, don't mind that" You tried to play it off but jungkook wouldn't even budge. "Y/N, ik you're telling the truth, you don't have to lie to me. " His eyes full of concern and once again you feel your brain going numb. And you were starting to feel sober, which was even worse.

"Uhmm, I'll have to take your phone over so i can listen to my phone ring. " You ran quickly in an attempt to save yourself from further embarrassment.

Later in your room, you find your phone in your bathroom floor (you have no idea why) And now you have to return jungkook's phone back to him.

You gather so courage and reach his house. You plan on giving it to him and leaving right after thanking him.

And you did so, but after you turned around to leave, he held you arm in an attempt to turn you back. "Y/N, please talk to me. How long have you known this? " You see genuine concern in his eyes and feek like hugging him and crying on his chest.

"Uhh, just let it be jungkook."

"No, tell me. " His voice stern now.

"Why do you even care. It's nine of your business"

"But i just can't see you get hurt. " His voice soft again.

You looked in his eyes, and scoffed. "You can't se me hurt? Of all the hurt I've ever experienced, you have been one reason every fucking time. And you can't see me hurt? Wow"

Jungkook's face falls,but that doesn't stop you. "You fucking hurt me more than anyone does. I don't even care jaehyun's cheating one. It doesn't hurt me. But you do. You hurt me so much that i can't even feel any other pain. " Your voice now louder. Your eyes pinch with pain, tears threatening to fall. But no, you can't do this, not in front of him at least.

"How do i hurt you? " His voice low like a whisper. "Good question Jungkook. You wanna know how you hurt me? How don't wanna know since when you've been hurting me? "

"Y/N you're still mad at what happened almost 10 years ago? " A frown appears on his face and his tone makes you feel as if you're at fault.

"I wouldn't have been if it didn't affect me so much. And why do expect me to not? You told me fucking 2 days before you were leaving for Florida? You never called while you were there. You were living your life and here I was dying. I was suffering." Years finally rolled down your cheeks. And jungkook wanted to wile them down and hug you to make you feel better.

But he was feeling the similar frustration you were feeling. And it became evident when he said, " You weren't the only one Y/N! I was also hurt. You didn't even come to see me off at the airport even when I texted-begged you over text. I wanted to apologize you that day and tell you something important. But you decided to be egoistic and didn't come. And that's why I never called. Even when I was in utter need of help and support, I couldn't call you. Because I lost the level of trust and I knew you won't even pick up. "

His word felt like slap. He's right, you were being a bitch when you didn't meet of on the last day, but you were mad too. "I would have, I was missing you so much, I would have definitely. I would have caught the first flight to Florida only to be with you again." Your words were now slurred due to your crying, when you finally broke and jungkook felt like crying too.

"I know it's wrong, it's so so so wrong but I can't help myself. I can't control myself" You covered your face as you cried even harder. And when you felt his arms engulfing you, you couldn't hepl but wrap your arms around him too. Jungkook stands there caressing your back while he himself cries silently.

"It's so wrong I still can't move on-" Jungkook's heart picks up speed. He's not ready for this. You suddenly pulll away from him and wipe your tears. "I'll get going jungkook. " You left before you could do something that maight ruin not one but many hearts.

And for the next few weeks you so neither jungkook nor his wife and you were very glad for it. It was untill one Tuesday morning when you swa both of them in front of their house. And they were not kissing or anything but arguing? You heard Minji saying, "what has happened to you? You're so distant these days kook. You don't even kiss me a goodbye??" To which jungkook replies, "it's nothing baby, I'm just stressed with work and things are getting lost in the back of me brain. Come here lemme kiss you" You were shocked when you heard Minji saying "No, you're first gonna tell me who else you're so in love with"

"What the hell, Minji? Why would you say that? " Jungkook was just as shocked. You didn't want to hear anything further so you stepped out of the fence and that's when Minji calls you out. "Mrs.Park! Good morning!"

And hearing your name from her mouth, Jungkook's eyes light up and he turns around quickly to look at you. He couldn't control but then he blurted out, "Nice sweater, Y/N."

Minji called you out to check something and she was right. She was right. "Oh Good morning, Jeon fam. And thank you Jungkook. Hope you guys have a nice day!" You wished them and hurriedly left.

And so did Minji. Jungkook was left standing there.

It took him 2 minutes to finally understand how he reacted and complimented you which was totally out of his mind.

And he finally realises how fucked up he is.

[artdcnaldson]

UGH ok twist my arm i guess!!!! as a little treat!!!! dr donaldson <3

so gynecologist art, yall, doctor donaldson. cat and i were in the dms TRUST. so art decides that he should probably have a backup plan, just in case tennis doesnt work out after college. he doesnt expect to actually need it because his tennis is going great, hes on track to go pro very soon. but JUST in case, he decides to use his good grades to study some kind of medicine. initially he had thought some kind of sports medicine, if nothing else then it would be good knowledge for himself down the line.

but after his grandma passes (not of a stroke) and he hears his family discussing how if only her gynecologist had paid better attention and taken her serious she might have lived longer (idk anything about medicine but probably some kind of cancer yknow?). anyway he sees that a his motivation and picks gynecology as his field. patrick absolutely teases him to death over it, "you're gonna be a pussy doctor? what so you just get to look at naked chicks all day? i'd quit tennis for that too". again he's not really expecting to need it, so he doesnt take it too hard. but he's kind of obviously the only guy in the course, and the girls all think he's kind of weird for wanting to pursue a field of medicine that isnt relevant to him. but after him telling the story about his grandmother they all coo and comfort him that its okey and they understand.

he does well in all his classes because he does truly find it interesting and wants to do his best to help women. but as he's getting ready to go pro, he has an accident on the court, as he's going to return a long ball he twists his ankle and takes a bad fall. his recovery is good, but his ankle will never be as it was before, and his chances of the big tennis dream slowly dies. and ultimately he's just unwilling to spend his life as a struggling tennis player, when he could be making a real difference.

now that he has his own practice he likes to tell that story to his new patients, especially the ones who seem tense with the fact that he's a man, who will be examining their most private area. it does well to ease their minds. hes been doing this for many years now, he enjoys the work, and the women who come to him are happy with his work. his patients are typically slightly older women, as they're not as phased by a male gynecologist, whereas most younger women arent as comfortable with the idea. he doesnt mind that, in fact he understands perfectly. honestly hes grateful for it, he fears the day he might have a patient whos just a bit too attractive and he'll have to struggle to keep his cool.

that day unfortunately comes sooner than he had hoped. its your first appointment with him after having him recommended by a friend, you had contacted him and told him how you were very unhappy with your current doctor and wanted to try something else. not having had a male doctor before, except like your dentist, youre very nervous for the appointment. not knowing what to expect from it, or how seriously he will take your issues. out of nervous habit youve gotten ready for the appointment as if it were a date rather than a clinical exam. showered, shaved, cute panties, hair and makeup done. its all totally unnecessary, but the moment you see him for the first time you thank the divine for looking your absolute best. GOD hes so hot. far too hot to be a doctor. lets just say that he wears scrubs because theyre so sexy, and they truly are criminally flattering on him. he sits on his chair, typing away as youre lead into the room by an assistant. as soon as he looks up and asks you to have a seat with him, you both know youre screwed. the tension is immediately noticeable as you discuss your reason for coming in, just a routine check because your last doctor wouldnt do it thorough enough and didnt listen enough to your issues.

he leaves the room while you strip off and leave your clothes in a neat little pile, panties clearly on top in the hope that he'll see them and think theyre cute. and he does, in fact his eyes keep fluttering to them as hes getting ready for the exam. he has to adjust his chair a little lower in the hopes that you cant see that he's getting hard. meanwhile youre going from soaking to sopping wet as you watch him put on the latex gloves, snapping them against his wrist.

he can tell that you're tense, but as its your first appointment with a male gynecologist, he assumes thats the reason, and not the fact that youre mortifyingly wet. he tries to calm your nerves by telling you what he'll be doing, he sits right in front of you on his chair and tells you how first he'll examine externally, just checking for anything irregular. then an internal exam with the same purpose, and then finally a physical exam where he will just have to feel your tummy as well as your pelvis to ensure everything is as it should be. totally routine stuff, nothing out of the ordinary, if anything hes far more attentive and careful to make sure youre comfortable. but the way hes saying it, his voice and the way he's looking at you has you clenching your thighs shut and trying to keep yourself from making a puddle on the table.

as he gathers his tools he asks you to place your legs in the stirrups, he sees you struggling a little to get your right leg properly in place, he gently grabs your leg and helps you place it properly. goosebumps cover you leg as he pulls his hand away again. you can feel how wet you are as youre not totally exposed to him, dripping wet, youve been less wet when hooking up with people. this is just from interacting with him briefly, really its embarrassing. hes so sweet asking if everythings alright, and if he can do anything to help you relax. and after squeezing your eyes shut and holding your breath for a second you finally get out that you just feel like youre really wet, and youre not youre not sure why, this doesnt usually happen. hes so sweet, trying to reassure you, telling you its perfectly normal. its a natural response from your body, if anything its a sign that youre healthy!

hes not lying, he really does mean what hes saying, it is good and it is normal. but hes never seen anyone be quite this wet during an appointment in his office. youre soaked, its practically dripping onto the table and forming a puddle. if he was sporting a semi under the table he might have referred you to a different doctor. but youre so pretty he cant help himself.

he really does try his best to stay professional and not let his attraction crack through and distract from his work. but fuck youre so tight around his latex covered fingers when hes doing the exam. and you only squeeze down tighter when he tries to reassure you, tell you youre doing good. its making it hard for him to focus on the task at hand. it takes everything in him to keep his hands from drifting and moving to find those sweet spots inside of you. he doesnt have to deprive himself for long tho as he accidentally brushed against your gspot. his cheeks turn bright pink as he hears a tiny moan escape your lips. and youd been so good at keeping them in the whole time too. but this one couldnt be contained. he stays good, doesnt say anything, just carries on with his work. but he almost lets out a moan of his own as he sees the ring of cream gathered around his gloved fingers.

he takes his work very seriously and he doesnt take the idea of losing his medical license due to malpractice lightly, so he wouldnt be just giving in to his urges. his resolve breaking doent come lightly, its a big deal to him. he goes home that day and jerks off in the shower while thinking about you, he knows exactly what your pussy looks like, what it feels like, how soaking wet you got for him. he cums again in his bed and humps his mattress while dreaming about you. he wakes up and decided he needs to see you again. asks his assistant to set up another appointment with you. when he asks what for, he stutters and says something about needing to do some tests just to be sure of something. hes lying, obviously, but he needs to see you again. he cant stop thinking about your tight little cunt...

-🐞

ladybug your mind amazes me... <3

He can't risk medical malpractice, and he really is a good doctor, he loves his work, he wants to help people. And he's really never, ever reacted this way to a patient before, but god, he can't get you out of his mind.

So maybe he schedules a follow up for a week later. Maybe his heart is racing and his palms sweat when he walks into the examination room and sees you in the little fabric gown, hands in your lap, worrying your lip between your teeth.

He feels like a nervous teenager on a first date, not a fucking healthcare professional.

He listens to you speak about your concerns, walks through your test results from the week prior. Everything looks good, he says. Nothing felt abnormal, your body is working just how it's supposed to. Do you have any questions for me?

You shake your head, sweet and shy, aching for an excuse to get his hands on you again, but running low on things you can ask for.

[reunionatdawn]

My Analysis of Sylvain's Promiscuity

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: So, the persistent stares of women, the appraising looks of noble daughters… I had to smile and accept them. …Because I had the Crest, you see. Byleth: That's not true. Sylvain: It's already too late now, but I understand. …I should have just said one word, "no".

This part of Sylvain's Japanese A-Support with Byleth really stood out to me. He felt like he should have just said "嫌だ" (iya da). It is a rather strong expression that conveys not just a simple "no" or "I don't want to," but also a feeling of being disgusted or significantly displeased by something. Based on the context and his tone of voice here, it strongly implied that he was remembering some specific traumatic memory from his past regarding sexual consent.

(Japanese Translation) Mercedes: And many women have approached you, targeting your Crest. ...I won't ask what happened. But I have a feeling that deep down in your heart, you hate and fear women...

Mercedes could tell that Sylvain didn't just hate women; he was afraid of them. She knew that something traumatic probably happened to him that he didn't want to talk about. I think he was probably taken advantage of at a young age by an older woman who was trying to get pregnant with a Crest baby. She forced herself on him and he didn't feel like he was capable of saying no.

Felix: And you never consider how your actions hurt others…or how you hold them back. Sylvain: That's never my intention. Come on, you know me better than that. I'm not really—Look, if that's the impression I've given you, then I'm sorry.

Sylvain was totally unapologetic about how his womanizing affected Ingrid. And he didn't care about hurting any of the girls he pumped and dumped. But he was very apologetic to Felix for hurting his feelings. The localizers seemed to be aware that there was supposed to be a connection between Sylvain's C-Support with Felix...

Sylvain: You think I'd cheat? On you, baby? Never. Come on, you should know me better than that. You're the only one for me. I swear.

...And his C-Support with Byleth. He apparently expected Felix to know him better than that to think he'd ever really cheat on him, even as he flirted with girls right in front of him. Which is an... unusual way for him to approach their relationship. But survivors of childhood sexual abuse often cope by engaging in sexual promiscuity.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: I mean, being dumped or dumping someone, it's a common story, isn't it?

Sylvain tried to downplay it in their B-Support, but he was very hurt after getting dumped by Felix in their C-Support. He was not expecting Felix to apologize to him and truly thought it was over between them. And he seemed to be taking the pain of that breakup out on the village girl he dumped in his C-Support with Byleth.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: That girl too, just because there was another woman, there shouldn't be a reason to get that angry.

CSA can distort a person's understanding of love and intimacy. It can create a split between emotional intimacy and physical intimacy, making it difficult for them to experience love and sex as interconnected. Sylvain did not inherently associate sex with love. So, he truly didn't understand why his casual flings would be considered cheating or why it would even make Felix jealous or angry.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: Sigh… Seeing the pained expression of a cute girl, it's hard to handle. (Option 1) Byleth: It doesn't look like it. Sylvain: No, no, it's really hard. I'm still pretty depressed about this. (Option 2) Byleth: Really? (Male Byleth) Sylvain: Ah, it really is painful. I feel like I might collapse on my knees any moment now. …Well then, Professor, they say the best way to heal from this kind of love pain is a new love, right? How about going out with me for a bit? Let's go woo some girls together! (Female Byleth) Sylvain: It's obviously hard, isn't it? ...Professor, you can comfort me if you want. Oh, the other day, I got some good tea leaves! How about it, in my room...

Sylvain didn't love any of the girls he slept with. But he was using his hook ups as a way to fill the void of true love and intimacy.

Ingrid: When you were fifteen, you sought—relentlessly, might I add—to involve yourself with Lord Gwendal's daughter.

CSA blurs the survivor's understanding of healthy boundaries. Sylvain did not want to get married. In fact, he said that he would have run away if he had the courage. But he had no say in the matter. Some survivors may develop hypersexual behaviors as a way to regain control over their bodies. It can be a way to exert power in situations where they had previously felt powerless. By being sexually active on their own terms, they might reclaim a sense of agency.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: I just picked up that girl from around here. I thought we'd just have some fun and then go our separate ways. But it seems like she ended up getting more attached to me than I expected. Man, what a hassle. Byleth: You're too frivolous. Sylvain: What are you talking about, Professor? This kind of casual fun is the most comfortable for me. …Well, no matter what you think, I have no intention of changing my ways. You see, even though I'm a good-for-nothing, I'm still a noble with a Crest… I try to avoid getting too involved. It only brings trouble. Eventually, I'll be quietly married off to someone suitable, and that'll be the end of it.

Abuse can severely impact a person's self-esteem and sense of self-worth. Some survivors may engage in promiscuous behavior as a way to seek validation or affection. Sylvain believed he was a good-for-nothing and doubted whether he was worthy of love. His sexual conquests were also a way to combat his poor self-esteem.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: If by any chance a child without a Crest is born, that generation is just given up on… But generally, the head of the family keeps having children until one with a Crest is born. Then, the child with the Crest becomes the next head and repeats the same thing. You understand? For commoner girls, someone like me is easy prey. Byleth: That's not a nice way to put it... Sylvain: Even if you say that... Should I say that it's a good stepping-stone to becoming a noble?

Survivors may find it hard to believe that others have good intentions, fearing that getting close to someone will lead to betrayal or harm. Sylvain assumed that every girl who showed interest had an ulterior motive. In the English version of his B-Support with Byleth, he lamented how girls viewed him as a trophy and a studhorse.

In Japanese, he was even more cynical. "格好の獲物" (kakkou no emono) literally translates to "prime catch" or "ideal prey." It is often used to describe someone that is seen as an easy or attractive target, whether in a literal hunting sense or in a metaphorical sense, such as someone being an easy victim for exploitation, manipulation, or attack. The phrase can carry a negative connotation, implying that the person is vulnerable or easy to take advantage of.

(English) Sylvain: If I marry a girl and she gives birth to a child with a Crest, that kid might become the next head of House Gautier. (Japanese Translation) Sylvain: If they can have a child with a Crest, that child might become the next head of the family.

The original Japanese version of this sentence didn't mention marriage. Nobility status is granted to any child who bears a Crest, regardless of whether they're a bastard. And so, a commoner woman wouldn't even need to marry Sylvain to benefit from his blood. All she would need to do is sleep with him and become pregnant with a child who bears the Crest of Gautier.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: Well, nowadays with our diluted blood, most of what's born are guys like my older brother, though… Crest-bearers have always been both envied and desired by people. I understand the value of my blood, in my own way. …To the point of disgust.

I don't think the girls that Sylvain was hooking up with in his Byleth Supports were using him. They seemed genuinely hurt by his behavior. But it would not be too farfetched to believe that Sylvain had an encounter with a female sexual predator in the past.

(Japanese Translation) Ingrid: …And stop making jokes like that guy did about being fine with dying.

Engaging in promiscuous behavior often involves taking risks. It can even be a form of self-harm like cutting. After making advances on Lord Gwendal's daughter, Sylvain was almost killed by her father. And he not only expected to get stabbed eventually, but he did not care if he did. He just laughed and joked that it would be fine if he died.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: It's fine, as long as you're okay… If you're alive, then I…

I'm sure that Sylvain was not really joking here. Engaging in promiscuous behavior is also a way to dissociate from one's emotions. As children, Felix and Sylvain had made a promise that they would always be together until they died together. Sylvain knew he was going to be forced into an arranged marriage after graduation. Apparently, he didn't want to have "the talk" with Felix and deal with a painful breakup. He only allowed himself to engage in casual relationships because he wouldn't feel bad about dumping them later. He was unable to be with the person he really wanted, so he slept around to avoid dealing with his pain.