#message of second dose without taking

[amorre1989]

lovely love letters

pairing: Spencer Reid; reader

word count: 3,4k

content: after a shared night with your sweet boyfriend Spencer, you wake up alone at his apartment and allow yourself to snoop around his apartment

mornings in your boyfriend's apartment were different. The feeling of the soft and a little sweated bedsheets combined with the smell of his skin was the closest you've been to heaven.

You had just woken up at Spencer's apartment removing the Spencer's part.

He left early in the morning, two hours before you, leaving a sweet hot kiss on your lips while you were sleeping (something you've assured him you didn't mind at all when he confessed to you that you looked adorable when you were sleeping, and that he always had to control himself from kissing you on the lips).

Leaving the bed was easy, you finally, after a long time, woke up with energy. Sleeping with Spencer has always given you an amazing dose of oxytocin, a hormone of happiness that is released while having physical contact and is related to the relationships (explained by who else than the amazing Dr Reid).

You walked your way to the kitchen, where on the coffee machine a sticky note was in the front of it, with instructions of how to use it, you left it to the side making the wrong assumption that you knew how to use a coffee machine, to seconds later hold it between your fingers and read it with a smile on your lips.

When you finally made your coffee you took a selfie holding the sticky note along with a text saying "thank you baby, i underestimated your gesture", you drank your coffee while sitting on the floor next to the opened window you allowed yourself to touch. It felt embarrassing, almost wrong to be at someone's place and touching everything you needed for the day, but Spence had made sure of letting you know you were free to do as you pleased while he was absent.

"I'm glad it did. how's your morning going?" Spencer's voice sounded in your head while reading the 40 minute late message, it's alright, you thought.

"very good baby, I'm sitting on the floor while drinking coffee" you said, not even thinking it was forbidden or anything.

"on the floor? I have plenty of comfy chairs, you know? and a sofa, and a bed" he texted back almost immediately. "why are you on the floor? does your back hurt again? I'll give you a message with oils when I get back, yeah? :)" he says, you can only pay attention to your smile being attacked by your teeth and the tickle you felt lower from your tummy. All those things he would do would always make you feel grateful for being his, and the fact that you, a well educated girl, was having breakfast in a house where the host was missing, was something you had to share with someone; you needed to tell someone you felt grateful for it, and who else better than your best friend?.

"I'll accept the massage with pleasure, baby...thank you for letting me stay at your place without you here...maybe it's dumb, but I feel grateful for it" you press the button "send" followed by taking a final sip from the mug you had chosen as yours.

Twenty minutes had passed since you last texted your absent boyfriend, you were now focused on tidying the bed you shared last night and doing an examination of Spence's belongings.

You were about to leave the bedroom when you realized his light table had a little red something peeking out the cabinet, you opened it and your tensed eyebrows relaxed by realizing it was a lollipop wrapper you made him try from your natal country, followed by little pieces of paper and napkins where you had written things to him before and doodled dumb things like his name or spirals, even a not too successful attempt of making a cute Snoopy followed by a "I suck at drawing" from you.

You sat on the floor for god knows how long, examining everything that was in that sweet little drawer. From candy wrappers to used napkins with your brown lip liner that had stained his cheek uncountable times as well. With little pictures you've printed for him of you both, flowers you had given him that were now dry and pressed for a book (a tip you've taught him) and then paper sheets from a notebook you didn't recognize of him talking about...you!.

Your first meeting, your first date, your first dinner, your first "she's staying at my place tonight!", his first "I'm staying at her's tonight!" and more things you've marked as relevant as well.

When you finished looking through his drawer you couldn't help but feel bad about invading his privacy, but you were curious, and he knew it!.

You went to the kitchen and noticed he had texted you back with a "you know you're more than welcomed at my place princess, I'm glad you feel comfortable with staying with me at night and in the morning too, I'm happy to share my days with you" your heart started to feel bigger and your heartbeat feeling more present as well, why does he have to be so charming?.

When he got back home after a few hours that became days, you were already at your place, and your presence in his apartment a few days ago was easy to notice when he opened the door and saw it was tidy, along with your perfume that you probably (did) sprayed at his place. He left his bag and made himself comfortable before calling you to meet up to have a movie night, that was your thing, classical movies everyone should watch, and if not, were pointed as dumb.

When you got there minutes later, you greeted him with a smiling kiss while holding something in your hands.

"hello beautiful...what's that?" he says scrunching his eyebrows.

"it's my Spence box, I thought you had to see it" you say, smiling, and with peek of something else he couldn't describe instantly.

"Spence box?" he asks. You nod and sit on the floor next to the coffee table, next you start to show and explain to him all the little things you have saved from 'firsts'.

After a while, when both were already distracted with a movie and holding each other relaxed he says.

"did you peeked in my drawer?" while realizing pretty late that in fact, you did. His face addressed yours, with squinted eyebrows and eyes.

"no..." you mumbled silently while looking away from his face which was instantly replaced with the view of him above you, smiling demonically while attacking you with his slender fingers in your tummy, along with both of your laughs filing the air of his apartment which was already titled as your home.

[dee-writes-anime]

do you have any headcanons with soft yandere hawks?

Obsessed? No, Baby, this is Love

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami i x Reader

SUMMARY He's not crazy and he means well, that's all! OR yandere hawks headcannons

CONTENT WARNINGS Hawks being overprotective, stalker tendencies, obsessions, and stuff like that!

AUTHORS NOTE I love making headcannons! They're pretty stress free and it's nice to take a break once and a while from plotting and writing and instead just being able to yap. Thanks for the request anon! <3

Constantly checking in

Hawks texts you more than a grandma on Facebook. It starts with a simple “Hey, how’s your day going?” but quickly spirals into 57 messages asking if you’re eating, sleeping, and possibly getting your required dose of love for the day. “I know you're fine, but just wanted to check—are you still breathing? Have you drank enough water, or should I remind you again?” You almost feel like you’re his pet, except, you know, way cuter.

He’ll “protect” you (a.k.a. hover over you)

His wings? They’re not just for flying, no. They’re like a personal shield that always shows up at the worst possible moments. You’ll be minding your business, and suddenly, there’s Hawks, hovering two inches behind you like a warm, feathery cloud. “Just here to keep an eye on you,” he says. And you’re like, Can I breathe though?

Who doesn't love surpise gifts?! (that double as surveillance devices)

Hawks loves to surprise you with thoughtful little trinkets, but they always come with just a touch of paranoia. “I saw this keychain and thought it’d be cute for you!” Sure, it’s cute… until you notice the tiny GPS tracker hidden inside it. “It’s for your safety,” he says with a wink. Right, Hawks. We all know it’s just in case someone tries to get too close to you. How sweet… and creepy.

Oh! Funny running into you here! :D

You think you’ve got your life together, doing errands, living your best independent life, but oh wait—here’s Hawks, just happening to be at the same café as you. “What a coincidence! I was just nearby!” Uh-huh, right. And I’m just shocked you also happened to bring coffee for both of us. It’s fine, though—he’s just making sure you’re not plotting to run off into the sunset with someone who doesn’t know your coffee order by heart.

He hides his jealousy so well! (can you hear his eye twitching?)

You ever see someone try to hide a full-on mental breakdown with a forced smile? Yeah, that’s Hawks when anyone looks at you for more than a second. Someone says “hi” to you at the grocery store? Expect a dramatic, almost cinematic shift in his vibe. His wing stiffens, the smile freezes, and you can practically hear the internal scream. “Oh, hey, did you want to buy something from their cart? I’m sure they don’t mind…” Sure, Hawks. Totally not possessive.

He's so sweet!... why is it almost scary?

At first, you think it’s sweet when Hawks remembers that you prefer a certain type of tea. Then you realize he’s tracking everything. “Remember when you said you liked that red dress from last summer? I got you a matching scarf!” And you're just standing there like, “Thanks? Are you trying to get me to fall in love with you or just lock me down forever?” His answer? “Both. But mostly the first one.”

Overprotective in the most (un)subtle way!

If you ever think you're going out for a “normal” night, you’re so wrong. “You don’t have to go out tonight, do you? It’s really cold out, and I’d hate for you to catch a cold.” Translation: “I’d prefer if you just stayed here and let me watch over you like a hawk (pun intended).” You try to resist, but then he hits you with the puppy eyes, and suddenly, you’re canceling plans to stay in and binge-watch Netflix with him… because clearly, you’re too important to be out in the world without him.

He's obsessed in love with the little things!

Hawks is obsessed with every single part of you, even the things you don’t notice. He’ll bring up the exact way you tap your foot when you’re anxious or how you always hum that one song when you’re about to do something important. “I thought you’d like these earrings because you always wear that shade of blue.” He’s scarily good at remembering everything. And you’d be a little worried if you weren’t so flattered by the fact that this man can’t get enough of you.

Bottom line? Hawks is like the perfect mix of sweet and “don’t you dare leave me alone for more than five minutes” obsession. But hey, at least you don’t have to worry about losing your keys, right? Because he’s got a tracker on everything—including your heart.

TAGLIST

@surielstea

[act-nat-ural]

g’day! i saw that you're receiving requests: so is it OK to request osamu with his significant other who calls him "ochamu" instead of "osamu" just to get a reaction out of him? sort of like baby talking his name if that makes sense??? i think it's super funny that he might look at you like you're crazy at first then get used to it overtime (atsumu gives him the side eye every single time) 😭

but ofc, this is more of a suggestion if anything ^^ feel free to delete/ignore if it doesn't spark any inspo or you don't have any thoughts on it! ++ i know you wrote abt samu recently so maybe he should wait a little longer to get his turn PFFT. thanks for your time btw! i love your workssss ✨

Baby Talk

note: I love your brain omg- this was so fun to write lol. Hope you like it!!!

“Ochamuuu, pay attention to me.”

The moment the word ‘Ochamu’ was uttered from your lips, Osamu did not react positively. Sitting on the other side of the sofa, you see his lip curl in disgust. The side eye directed towards you was lethal.

 “What. Was. That.” 

 It was hard, but you managed to hold your giggles in. You pull the most innocent face you can and say, “What do you mean, Ochamu?”

He immediately gags and puts his hand out at you. “Oh my god. No. Babe, what the fuck.” He's looking at you like you grew a second head. You laugh and punch his arm. 

“What? What did I do?” He raises his brows and laughs, perplexed.

 “What did ya do? Ya sound stupid. Don't do that again, it was creepy.” 

You giggle again and respond, “I love you, ‘chamu.” His frown gets even deeper as he stands up from the couch and walks away shaking his head.

 “I love you too, but no. Just no.”

–

“Ochamu, pass the salt please.” You ask sweetly. He stops mid bite and turns to you unimpressed.

 “Really? This again?” You hum and shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea what you are referring to, my dear husband.” He gives a small smile and resumes eating. 

“Now that's a nickname I can get behind. The other one, not so much. How the hell did ya come up with that anyway?” He questions, finally handing you what you asked for. 

“I honestly don’t know. I think it came to me in a dream or something.” You gasp. “It was a message from a higher power. Ochamu is your destined nickname, I'm sure of it.” He lets out a little chuckle at that and places a kiss on your cheek.

 “Sure, whatever. If it keeps you entertained, I'll allow it.”

–

“Ochamu, have you seen my brush?” You inquire as you pop your head out of the bathroom. He's sitting on your bed, scrolling through his phone. 

Without looking up, he answers, “It's on the dresser, baby.” You bite back a smile. 

“Not a single comment this time, huh?” He blinks and glances up at you. 

“What do ya mean?”

You let out a shocked laugh. “Wha- you didn’t even notice?! I used that nickname you hate.” He groans and throws a pillow at you. “Yer usin’ it too damn much! Messin’ with my head!” He huffs and crosses his arms. You roll your eyes and move to sit down next to him. 

“Admit you like the baby talk.” He gives you another dose of side eye.

 “I’d rather not.”

–

You, Osamu, and Atsumu had all decided to go grocery shopping for dinner ingredients. Rather, you and Osamu were, and Atsumu tagged along because he was bored. Osamu was in charge of the list, Atsumu was pushing the cart, and you were the one grabbing the ingredients. You were walking aisle to aisle, taking your time, while Atsumu was grumbling like a bored child.

“Ochamu, what's next on the list?” He opens his mouth to respond but gets cut off.

“Ew, what the hell?” Atsumu makes a grossed out face and does a barfing motion. “Yer such a weirdo! ‘Samu, ya let her call ya that?!” Osamu scoffs and takes your hand, leaving Atsumu behind. 

“Yer just jealous yer single. Scrub.” You can still hear Atsumu squawking when you get to the next aisle.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it’s hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Dark roast, black. You're tempted to order one for yourself but the extra dose of caffeine might unhinge you after the morning you've had. Transfer, no desk, a firing, a stolen desk, and two painfully aloof bosses.  

You go back up to the office, the short reprieve offering some clarity but not solutions. There has to be some way to get more than a grunt and a closed door from these men. Geez, if you wanted to work with children you would've done so. 

You knock on Mr. Barnes' door. The one next to it opens first. Laufeyson considers you from head to toe and Barnes appears not a second after. He takes his cup without a thanks. 

"Mm, and where is mine then?" Laufeyson challenges. 

You blink, long and hard. Of course. Of course! You let out a slow breath, "what would you like, Mr. Laufeyson?" 

You don't miss the quiet snort from the other door and it closes before you can glance Barnes' expression. You have a suspicion he expected this. It's like your first job when you worked with a bunch of men in stocks. Their numbers were as bloated as their egos. 

“Matcha.” 

The door shuts in your face. Again. You bite down and stretch your fingers wide. It’s fine. It’s fine. Growing pains. 

Matcha... what? Iced? Latte? Hot tea? Smoothie? Wonderful, a guessing game. 

You will be getting yourself another coffee for the trouble. Another trip to Roasters and you settle on the simplest option; just tea. You’re certain if you’re wrong, he’ll let you know.  

You stand at the two office doors and contemplate your life decisions. Is this worth it? Can you beg Odinson to take you back? To send down another poor soul? You almost feel bad doing that to someone else. You’re about to give when that innate stubborn ticks in your jaw. It’s only been a few hours. You don’t just give up that easy. 

Knock, knock. There’s a delay before Laufeyson answers. You’re not put off by it. You know the tactic. It won’t work on you. If his tea is cold, it won’t be your fault. 

“Matcha, sir,” you hold out the cup. 

He accepts it and reads the sticker on the side. He narrows his green eyes and looks at you, “note for next time, I prefer Garcon’s to Roasters.” 

Click. Another shut door. You’re really starting to get angry. You laugh out the flurry of agitation and turn away. What else can you do but think of it as a joke? It has to be. It’s just that absurd. 

You sit at the desk and open your laptop. You get it hooked up to the monitor and refinagle the cords. That’s an accomplishment at least. A tiny morsel of victory. You glance around and frown. It’s like the waiting room in Beetlejuice; everyone looks miserable. Well, can you blame them? 

Your phone buzzes and you check the messages. Girl nights hangs like bait at the end of your day, keeping you swimming through dark waters. It’s a bit ridiculous. Your friends are all like you in one way but all vastly different in many other ways. You all spend your days taking care of men who couldn’t give a shit about any of you. 

You can already taste the Paloma; bitter grapefruit with the burn of tequila. You are dying to drink away this day. You look at the clock and nearly whimper. It’s not even one o’clock. Ugh. 

You plug away at your desk. You get the daily agendas templated then spend time scouring the web. You have something in mind. You’re pretty sure you can make it work. As long as those grumps can do the simplest of tasks. 

You customize the survey and send the link. You doubt you’ll get a response today or even at all. It’s a hail mary, really. Barnes’ door opens, then Laufeysons. Your chest fills with dread. Great. 

“Hello, sir and... sir,” you sit up as they approach. 

“What is the meaning of that quiz?” Laufeyson demands. 

“It’s not-- 

“Asking a lot, aren’t you?” Barnes crosses his arms. 

“No, I just--” 

“What business do you have about my dry cleaning?” Laufeyson hisses. 

“I have lunch when I have lunch. I'm not a child at grade school,” Barnes sneers.

“Okay, woah,” you put your palms out, “first, there’s an n/a column, you can choose not to disclose the information. Two, I need to know what to do. What do you want from me?” 

Both men frown and look at each other, then back to you. 

“I can think of one,” Laufeyson raises a finger, “don’t treat us as children who need you to put our socks on.” 

“Good one,” Barnes scoffs, “also, you could stop with calendar reminders.” 

“Those are automatic,” you mutter. 

“And the arguing,” Laufeyson points at you. 

You sputter, dizzy at their onslaught of criticism. They can tell you exactly what they don’t want but they can’t give you a clear answer as to why you are there. You calm yourself with a breath and sip of coffee. 

“Mr. Laufeyson, Mr. Barnes--” 

“Why him first? My name’s first alphabetically,” Barnes says. 

“I--” you stop yourself and take another taste of your coffee, “if my presence is getting in the way of your work, I will go back upstairs and talk to Mr. Odinson--” 

“Mr. Odinson? Thor?” Laufeyson says, “no, you won’t do that. In fact, that is another item for your list, no talking to my brother. Especially of me.” 

You could tear your hair out. You could hit your head on the wall. You could gauge your eyes out and drown yourself in your coffee. Instead, you smile. 

“Got it,” you say, “well, sirs, good luck with your meeting this afternoon.” 

“Yes, thank you,” Laufeyson intones. 

“Mm, sure,” Barnes says and they both turn on their heels then stop at once. They face you in sync with each other. 

“Meeting?” They ask. 

“Mmhm,” you nod, “it’s in your calendars.” 

They stare at you. 

“If that’s something you’d like me to brief you on,” you say tritely, “you can submit that in the survey.” 

Laufeyson hums dryly and Barnes growls. Neither says anything further as they retreat. You keep your eyes on the screen as your heartbeat races. You can’t believe you said that. 

[genderqueerdykes]

hey i am a gay transgender man and i am also intersex. i have been on testosterone for five years and i'm considering going back on estrogen because of hair loss. I just feel weird because it feels like i am giving up. I don't know anyone else who would understand this except for you and i feel scared. i'm still trans and i know that but i don't know how the rest of the world will look at me especially the men I am attracted to.

hello there, thanks for taking the time to send a message! i'm sorry you're feeling scared, but it's alright to feel that way. when we start HRT, a lot of changes start happening, some that we ask for, and some that we don't. after a few years on HRT, my blood pressure became Borderline high, not actually high, but close, so my provider decided preventative medicine would be best, so put me on a low dose of a blood pressure medication. now, my blood pressure is very well within the "healthy" range, sometimes dipping too low sometimes, but this can be easily dealt with. it was really scary when i heard that my blood pressure was borderline high. i was actually terrified i might have to stop testosterone, as that can be a cause for it.

you may not have to take estrogen in order to help your hair- you may be able to use some prescription hair loss medications in conjunction with your testosterone. you may also be able to decrease your dose a bit and see less hair loss while not having to stop T. it actually is possible to take both T and E at the same time, as well, this actually isn't unheard of at all! a lot of people who get hysterectomies and up having to take estrogen afterwards, even those who take testosterone. you may be able to add a dose of estrogen alongside your T and see if that clears things up

finestride and minoxidil are common options for hair loss treatment and work very well for a lot of people!

if you have to stop T, it doesn't make you any less of a trans man. also, let me go off for a second, but i can guarantee you that gay men LOVE a bald/balding man. hair loss is a common occurrence in the gay community, it's not something that's looked down upon, or anything like that! the last few times I was at the gay bar, i saw many, many bald and balding people flirting, cruising and dancing together. a lot of gay men love a bald daddy or bear. trust me, when it comes to the gay community, baldness is very common and it's not something that's looked down upon. it's super common! you would not be seen as inherently unattractive for balding or being bald, gays are no strangers to finding bald dudes hot LOL

i wish you the best of luck. balding can be scary, but fortunately, we do have medications to help with it, and your HRT provider should be very open to a conversation about seeing what your options are without having to totally stop testosterone. it's okay to be scared, but you're not without options, at least! best of luck to you! feel free to stop by again at any po int

[swrkn]

𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Owen x g/n reader

Genre ; sfw , fluff

Author note ; english is not my first language so i apologise if they are any mistakes !!

⇨ Attention

Owen memorizes everything about you—the way you take your coffee, your favorite songs, even your sizes for gifts. He notices the smallest details, from the way your eyes light up at certain things to the exact words you use when you’re excited. It’s like he keeps a mental catalog just to make you feel special.

One day, you casually mention that you love a specific brand of chocolate, but it’s hard to find. Days later, on a random Tuesday, he shows up with it, saying, “I saw this and thought of you.” Or maybe it’s your birthday, and he surprises you with a perfectly fitting jacket in your favorite color. You ask how he knew your size, and he just shrugs, “You mentioned it once when we were shopping months ago.” It’s the little things, like texting you good luck before a big meeting because he remembers the exact date you told him about it, or knowing which toppings to leave off your pizza without asking.

⇨ Clothes thief

Owen is the type of guy who will let you steal his clothes without a second thought. You grab his hoodie one day, and instead of asking for it back, he just smiles and says, “It looks better on you anyway.”But deep down, he loves seeing you wrapped up in something of his, it’s his way of keeping you close, even when he’s not around.

It’s a chilly evening, and you’re at Owen’s place, shivering slightly as the two of you watch a movie. Without a word, he gets up, grabs his oversized hoodie from the chair, and hands it to you. “Here, wear this,” he says, and you pull it on, immediately feeling warmer. A few days later, you’re heading out, still wearing the hoodie. “You know, i’m kind of stealing this,” you tease. He grins. “It’s not stealing if I’m letting you keep it,” he replies. The next time you see him, you’re wearing his favorite T-shirt. He raises an eyebrow and laughs. “At this rate, I’ll have to start borrowing my own clothes from you.”

⇨ Adorable

He’s the type of guy who finds every single thing you do cute. You could be struggling to open a jar, your face scrunched up in concentration, and he’d chuckle, saying, “Adorable.”Even when you’re just sitting there, minding your own business, he’ll look over and smile. “You’re so cute when you’re focused,” he’ll say, like it’s the most natural observation in the world. No matter what you’re doing,laughing, ranting, or even sneezing, Owen somehow manages to see the charm in it all.

You’re standing in the kitchen, hair in a messy bun, wearing his hoodie, and struggling to reach a jar on the top shelf. You’re on your tiptoes, stretching as far as you can, when Owen walks in and leans against the doorway, grinning. “Need some help?” he asks, but he doesn’t move. You give him a playful glare. “Are you just going to stand there?” He laughs. “Sorry, you’re just so cute when you’re determined.” Later, you’re sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a concentrated frown. He plops down next to you and says, “You’re even cute when you’re serious.” You roll your eyes. “Is there anything I do that isn’t cute to you?” He pretends to think for a second, then smirks. “Nope, not a thing.”

⇨ Nighty Night

Owen is a drama queen who won’t sleep without your goodnight—he’s very dramatic about it. If you forget to text, he’ll send messages like, “So I guess this is how I go…alone, in the dark, without a goodnight from you.” If you call him out, he’ll laugh and say, “What? I can’t sleep knowing you’ve abandoned me like this.”

It’s late, and you’re about to drift off to sleep when you realize you haven’t sent Owen his goodnight text yet. Before you can grab your phone, it vibrates. It’s a message from him: “How could you? I’m just here, alone in the dark, waiting for my nightly dose of affection. I guess I’ll never sleep again…” You roll your eyes and quickly type back, “Goodnight, Owen. Sleep well.” A second later, he responds with a dramatic voice note: “Ah, sweet relief! I can now rest in peace, knowing you didn’t forget me. Sweet dreams, my love.” You laugh, shaking your head, but secretly, you kind of love how much he cares.

⇨ Always Spoils You

Owen will buy everything you want without any complaints, and money will never be a problem. Whether it’s that cute pair of shoes you’ve been eyeing for weeks or a random gadget you mentioned in passing, he’ll pull out his card without hesitation.

You’re window shopping together, casually glancing at items you can’t quite justify buying. You stop in front of a boutique display, eyeing a handbag that’s way out of your budget but still so perfect. Owen notices and nudges you. “Go ahead,” he says with a grin. “You’ve been talking about that bag for weeks. Just get it.” You laugh nervously. “I don’t know… it’s kind of expensive.” Without hesitation, Owen pulls out his wallet and hands you the cash. “If you love it, why wait?” he says, completely unbothered. You try to protest, but he simply winks. “It’s nothing. I just want you to have what you want.” A few days later, the bag arrives at your door, and he just shrugs when you thank him. “I told you,if you want it, it’s yours.”

⇨ The family favourite

Your parents love Owen so much. From the moment they meet him, he charms them with his easygoing nature and thoughtful gestures. He remembers to ask how they’re doing, listens when they talk, and always pitches in when it comes to family events or dinners. When your parents ask about your relationship, they’re all smiles. “We love Owen,” they say. “He’s just so kind, and he makes you happy.” You can’t help but agree.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, and you’re having dinner with your family when Owen arrives, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers for your mom. He gives her a warm hug, and she smiles, clearly pleased. “I thought you might like these,” he says, offering the flowers. “I remembered you mentioned you loved peonies.” Your mom’s eyes light up. “Oh, Owen, you’re such a thoughtful young man.” Later, as you’re sitting on the couch, your dad leans over and says quietly, “We really like him, you know. He’s got a good heart.” You smile, feeling grateful. Owen has a way of making everyone feel special, and today, it’s clear your parents are completely smitten.

✵

[vi-for-vendetta]

Anonymous asked:

if youre still taking requests, id love to see something written about some smug rich girl being turned into a milky cow

This isn't much to go off, so I'm gonna do my best lol. I wrote kinda bitchy wlw hucow transformation. Again, I wrote this in second person, I am sorry lol:

She wasn't always this way. When the two of you were younger, she had no desire to shove her closet the size of your house, or the designer purses, or the sports cars in your face. But the second you two went to college, she became a whole new person. Her whole personality revolved around her wealth. You assumed it was just because she wanted attention, but you always felt that it was the wrong kind of attention.

You hadn't spoken to her since orientation, now you were entering your senior year and you two managed to get stuck in a class together. Unfortunately, this was one of those seminar classes where you're made to work on the same project for the whole year with the same partner.

You've heard from some of the other people in your major that she's a notorious slacker, the kind of person who always just skates by, a real "C's get degrees" kind of gal. Normally, you wouldn't care about this, but because you're grade is on the line here, too, you were fuming at the thought of her just making you do the whole assignment by yourself.

You were going to set her straight. One way or another, she was going to pull her weight in this project.

You decided to invite her back to your dorm to brainstorm ideas, but you already had one. You just needed to wait for the inevitable.

The two of you sat down at your too small kitchen table and stared at your laptop screens.

You both affixed your gaze on a blank Google Doc simply titled "Ideas."

Well, you did. She just had it open and was instead focused on her phone. Now was your chance:

"So, any ideas you think could be interesting for the-"

She raises a finger to you, "I'm gonna stop you there. I know you're, like, way smarter than me, so you can just do it and I'll, like, make the PowerPoint pretty in the end. Okay? Just do whatever you want, we can, like, meet up for 15, or like 20 minutes every couple of days to make it look like we're working, but beyond that I don't care."

"Okay, but why do you have to look like you're working? It's not like we're being checked on."

"You might not be, but I am. These stupid professors have me on academic probation, so they need to know where I am all the time," she groaned.

"Got it." You knew the answer already, of course. Gossip is common throughout the school about the pretty little rich girl who always manages to come out on top.

"Yeah, so just do whatever you want," she said with a dismissing wave.

You nodded, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding a grin that cartoon supervillains would be jealous of. You clicked open a new tab with a fully set up paper outline and data collection page. This was going to be the perfect paper. You called it, "Creating a Hucow: How Lactation Supplements and Subliminal Messaging Can Turn Anyone into a Ditzy Cow."

Of course you needed IRB approval for this, but based on your partner's nonchalance and overall dismissive nature, you could surely get her to sign all the papers you needed without her ever noticing what she was agreeing to.

So, off you went. For months, you slowly dosed her up with lactation supplements, offering to pick up her Starbucks and spiking it before each 20 minute meeting. You'd talk to her about how gorgeous she'd look in cow print, how soft her skin looked. After a month, she was letting you give her hand and shoulder massages. After two months, you were able to comment to her about how heavy her breasts looked, how tight her clothes had gotten, and how the cow print would help to hide it well. She started to let you grope her under the guise of "just holding them up to help her back." Each time she let you do this, you slowly introduced nipple stimulation. Then the day came.

It was month three and she was practically putty in your hands. But there was still work to do, and you knew just how to get the next phase started:

"Hey, you know, during some of my research for this stupid paper, I found that breast pumping, like the stuff new moms do, can really help ease the pain in your tits."

"Really? I never, like, ever heard that before."

"No, it's true! Here, I knew you were having a rough time, and I don't wanna see you suffer, so I bought you one," you say presenting the best pump to her, "Wanna try it out? I can get it hooked up for you."

She looked at you, puzzled, maybe moreso tentative. There was a long pause as she examined the device, "Okay. What not."

Success.

You peeled off her shirt, and hooked her up to the little pump. After only a few seconds, milk started to leak from her nipples into the machine.

"Oh my god! What the hell? Why am I-"

You shush her, cutting her off, "Don't worry, it's normal. Sometimes this just happens to girls with big tits like yours. It's the price to pay for beauty like that. But don't worry, I'm here to help."

"Okay, if you say so," her voice trailed off, it's the most concerned she's sounded throughout this whole process. You'd be sure to note that down. "But okay, I trust you. Thank you for helping me."

"Any time."

With that, you convinced her to come over more often, twice a day for an hour each session. Each time you'd pump her, you'd touch her breasts, rub her thighs. She moaned at the mear sight of your hands now.

By month four, she would come to your dorm and stop down to nothing but a micro cow-print bikini, which she now wore under her ensemble of cow-print clothes each day, and her cow bell collar. She'd then let you rip off her top and pump her. You'd run your pussy and your own breasts as you touched her, and she would beg for your touch all the time now.

It was month five now, and the semester was drawing to a close. She was a wet, milky mess the second she laid eyes on you. She would walk around on all fours, pumping her tits as she slurped up your wetness. Her favorite activity was rubbing your tits together.

She was the prettiest little experiment you ever saw.

And today was the day you'd tell her what you'd done to her. In front of the whole seminar class.

Your class' collective jaw dropped the second you walked in with her on a leash, walking on all fours in her micro bikini, leaking milk down her swollen tits.

You began your presentation:

"This semester, I turned my partner, with her consent, of course, into a hucow. Here's how I did it."

You spent your presentation detailing every step in your manipulative process, and not once did her face drop that ditzy smile it had. All she did was nod, smile and beg to be touched by you throughout your presentation.

As your presentation drew to a close, now was the time to ask your coveted question: "Alright, cow, here's my final question for this study, okay?"

She nodded fast.

"Knowing what you do now about what I did to you and how, are you mad, and do you regret what you've become?"

Without missing a beat, she chirps, "Absolutely not! I'm so happy being your dumb cow! I just wanna be your little milky toy forever! Please may I be your toy?"

You look at your classmates and smile, "Why yes, yes you can."

She jumps up from the floor and kisses you, groping your tits in front of the class.

You had made the perfect bimbo cow and proved that it was a more than satisfactory existence. This was the life.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 22

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

I had gotten through Dr. Stevenson’s class with flickering eyes in the dim lighting. Knowing that Dr. Miller was right next door teaching his other course had me thinking about him.

Was he making people laugh? What material was he teaching? And the question I tried not to let creep into my jealous, little mind - is he attracted to anyone in that class? I don't know why I did that to myself, but I couldn't help my inner baseless insecurities. Still, I didn't let it consume me. I was the one who had a key to his house. I was the one who was attending his sister’s wedding in a few weeks. I was the one sleeping beside him on a nightly basis.

Be cool, I told myself. Our romance was too hot and steamy for me to attempt, or even pretend, to be cool.

When I wandered out into the hallway in the crowd of other students, I glanced down toward the closed door near the end of the hall and smiled to myself. I then whipped out my phone to find text messages from both Dr. Miller and James - who had been walking me to my car regularly on Wednesday nights.

Before clicking on Dr. Miller’s, I expected his typical racy text that made the extra hour without him feel ten times as long. I smiled to myself when it read: Please be careful. Let me know when you get home. I still don't trust the campus security.

I had to admit I enjoyed Dr. Miller’s healthy dose of jealousy towards James. It made me feel less guilty for having my own insecure thoughts. I guess it was just human nature, to some degree.

I wrote him back, promising I would text him when I arrived at my car and then again at home. I added a heart emoji and hit send before moving on to James’s text, which let me know he’d see me in the parking lot. A part of me felt just a bit needy for asking him to come by every Wednesday at this time; but I knew Dr. Miller’s concerns for my safety wouldn't allow for me to be alone after dark on campus - even for just a minute or two. I didn’t particularly think I needed James, but I know, despite his distaste for another male to come to my aid, it made Dr. Miller feel better. That was enough for me.

Gotta pee, long ride home! I texted back to James, adding, See ya in a second. Thanks!!

I stuffed my phone back into my bag and wandered into the women's bathroom in a nook by the elevators.

When I hung my bag and sat in the stall, my phone buzzed again. Tori.

Her text came through: Hey, thanks for the two months in advance. You didn’t have to! Btw, I have a huge question. Nothing bad. Call when you can.

Big question? What could it be? And I certainly didn’t pay two months in advance.

Dr. Miller. It had to be him.

I quickly tapped her name and hit the little phone icon and put the receiver up to my ear.

“Hey!” My friend answered in a cheery voice, “Didn’t think you’d call back so quickly!”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Ahh…” She breathed the word and I knew she was hesitant to ask whatever it was she was about to. “So.. um.. Derek.”

I smiled to myself, thinking I had an inclination of what this was about. And I actually thought it would solve a few of my inner monologue issues, especially since Dr. Miller insisted on having me at his place every night.

“You want him to move in,” I speculated. It caused a long pause on the other end and I finally asked, “Tori?” Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they broke up. Maybe-

“Yeah. I feel like a dirtbag for asking-”

“Why?” I practically shouted, and then put a hand over my mouth with a little laugh when I heard the door open to the restroom.

“Because it’s our place and I know adding a dude to the mix could make it awkward.”

“Well.. honestly.. Dr.-” I caught myself and stopped for a second.

“Doctor?”

“I.. well.. Hmm..” I reset. “Joel gave me a key to his place.”

“What!?” Tori exclaimed.

“I know I've been staying there a lot,” I went on.

“(Y/N) it's totally okay.” She laughed. “So, is he like your hot sugar daddy?”

I laughed again and glanced to the side when I heard someone shuffling around. “No. I am falling for him pretty hard though.” And then I added, “I think it's great if Derek moves in.”

“Really?” Tori squeaked.

“Really.”

“I feel like we haven't seen each other. We need to meet up this week and really talk.”

“Definitely. How about Friday after work?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. Congrats on Derek.”

“Congrats on your hot old man.”

I laughed. “Alright. I'll see you soon.”

“Bye.”

The door handle turned and I cleared my throat. “Oh, someone’s in here.” A knock followed. “Be right out.”

I got myself together and felt the muscles in my stomach tense when there was another, louder knock. This time I didn’t answer right away. And then came a loud bang that caused me to jump back a few inches. I almost shrieked but I held it in.

“I’ll be right out!” I shouted now, beginning to use my phone. When the door handle twisted again, I used the best verbal defense I could think of. “I’m calling campus security!”

The pounding stopped. The door handle twisting stopped. I breathed heavily a few times and swallowed hard as I heard the faintest sound of footsteps. As badly as I wanted to peek out of the crack in the door, fear had me pinned against the wall of the bathroom stall.

I heard the creak of the door and then there was silence. I began texting Dr. Miller, though before I hit send I stopped myself. He was teaching a class. I didn’t want to bother him and pull him out of class. Not to mention there was no good reason why, according to the university, I should be phoning my professor.

“Fuck.” I whispered the word to myself. I wanted to call him, but I knew it wouldn’t be a good look. On the same note, I knew when I told him about this later, he’d be pissed that I didn’t call him.

I went with my next best option. James.

Until I heard the door crack open again, and my friend’s familiar voice called hesitantly into the women’s bathroom, I remained behind the locked door - not that someone couldn’t have gotten under the bottom of it if they really wanted to. Still, I wasn’t about to tiptoe out, only to be ambushed.

“(Y/N),” James called, “It’s me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and finally managed to open the door. I quickly washed my hands and then hurried back out into the civilization - which at the moment was only James and I.

“Are you okay?” He asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath and brushed my hair back. “I don’t even know what happened. I was.. I don’t know if someone was just being impatient, or..” My eyes met his, “I don’t know.”

“Did it seem like a threat?”

I shrugged. “They tried opening the door, and I told them I was in there. And then they just kept knocking and pounding at the door and twisting the handle.” I shook my head, “It was probably someone just having a bad day, or.. I don’t know.”

“Let’s make it a formal complaint,” James suggested, but I shook my head.

“No. No, I’m sure it was nothing.”

“You have to,” he insisted, “You can’t be too careful. With everything that’s happened here, it needs to be reported.” James pulled out a small notebook from his shirt pocket.

I scrunched my nose. “Do you have to include my name?”

He shook his head. “I’ll keep that part to myself.” James made a face, “Unless they really need it for some reason.”

“Okay.” I agreed. He took the details of what had happened and then proceeded to walk me the rest of the way to my car, flashing his light in my back seat just before I hopped in.

“Thank you, James.” I gave him a hug. “I appreciate your help.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave a small grin. “Any time you need someone, I’m here. I know you take a few night classes here so just make sure you don’t walk alone.”

“I won’t.”

“Be careful.”

I nodded and began to duck into the driver’s seat.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“Yeah?” I glanced up at him as I settled in.

“Do you still live on that dead end street with Tori?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Why?”

James shrugged. “You just said you had a long ride home. I didn’t know if you moved, or if you were staying with your parents or something.”

“Oh.” Shit, I had slipped. “Yeah, tonight I’m actually.. Staying somewhere else.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows rose and fell and it appeared as though he was waiting for an explanation. When I failed to elaborate James cleared his throat. “Well, stay safe.”

“Thanks for helping me out.”

“No problem.”

I waved goodbye and closed the door, locking it as I started it up. Before I put it in drive, Dr. Miller’s text came through, asking if I was on my way home.

How much do I tell him right now?

I hesitated before leaving it at: Pulling out of the parking lot now.

Are you okay to be in that big house alone? He asked.

The thought did freak me out a bit. But I knew it was probably the safest place for me to be. If it wasn’t, Dr. MIller wouldn’t be comfortable sending me off there alone.

I wrote back: If I say no will you hurry home?

I’ll hurry home anyway.

I smiled to myself and began the drive back up the desolate highway into the heart of the Catskills. After weeks of spending the night at Dr. MIller’s mansion, I couldn’t imagine not staying there.

The longer I drove with my music playing, the less I thought of the incident in the bathroom. It was when I finally reached the tall, steel gates surrounded by nothing but woods that my anxiousness grew. I had to physically get out of the car to do the code. That was when all thoughts of the bathroom came rushing back.

Dr. Miller was over a half hour away. He wasn’t here to protect me. What if that was some psycho killer? What if someone was here now? My mind rushed to all the worst case scenarios now that I was forced with the task of getting out of the car to open the gates. It was dark. It was scary - at least without Dr. Miller it was.

“Grow up,” I whispered to myself. I knew if I was going to be living there, or kind of living there, that I would have to do this.

I opened the door and hugged my body, glancing around at the swaying trees all around me. Snow still sat in patches around the area from the small storms and the pavement was dark and damp.

2003. It was four numbers, and then I could get back in the car, drive up, get comfortable and wait for my knight in shining armor.

I left the car door open and clutched my keys as I slowly paced the uphill pathway toward the key pad. A whistle from the wind made me whip around in all directions and I had to catch my breath and remind myself that I was fine. It was just the desolate surroundings and the murders on campus that had me jumpy.

Very valid reasons, I reminded myself.

I reached for the keypad and punched in 2-0 as a set of headlights rolled up the drive, illuminating trees off to the left as it rounded a bend before was in the crosshairs of the beams.

That was the last straw. I didn't know whether to keep typing or run back to my car. I did neither. I froze.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676

[lirational]

Gazania

Alpha!Coquelicot x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Dark content, Omegaverse, dubious consent, (minor) dehumanization. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Disclaimer: Written before release with minimal information. OOC abound. You have been warned!

Additional message: I promise I am working on the requests I am sorry RUSJDUDJSHSB

SMUT UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

If, back then, you were told that one day you would be snatched up on the streets while taking a shortcut, you would’ve laughed in their face and tell them to stop watching too many movies.

Now, you would laugh without mirth, for such an event became your reality.

Fearmongers would claim that it was unsafe for an unclaimed Omega to roam freely without suppresants, even in short trips, and you were just an hour late for your next dose. You left your pills at home that day, figuring that the dose you took should give you enough time for the trip home.

A mistake you would come to regret.

When you came to, you were greeted by a woman clad in white, naked with your hands tied up in lace, laid sideways on a plush bed. Were you able to see yourself, you would realize that the ropes binding you created such a beautiful sight, an artful display meant for the woman now sitting on the sofa in front of you.

“Ah, I see you are awake.”

Her movements ooze elegance, from the way her dress wrapped around her lithe, pale body, down to the splotches of ruby jewels that gleamed like stark droplets of blood under the light. Her smile was terrifying, claiming, and as she stepped closer, you caught a whiff of her scent. Sweet, with something metallic hidden underneath that captivated your senses in a dance with the macabre. She was nothing short of beautiful, and you half wondered, in the start of your lust-inflicted haze.

Do your scent affect her even half as much as hers did?

A pointless question, and you gulped as you saw the bulge barely hidden by her short dress, the outline of a piercing visible at the end.

One hand grasped your cheek, the other tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at her ruby pupils that shimmered like blood. Her lips curled into a scimitar smile, and a shiver went down your spine, her touch setting your skin alight as your body started to submit in her presence—

The unmistakable presence of an Alpha.

“An unclaimed Omega, passing in such a secluded place… One would wonder whether you were trying to invite rabid mutts on yourself,” she shook her head, her gaze filled with a mocking compassion, tinged with unmistakable lust as her pheromones started to fill the room, spreading much like black coloring drops in pristine water. Desire was coiling in your body, preparing yourself for a potential mate, and you start to fidget, sweat dampening your skin while moisture gathered down below, likely forming a puddle with each passing second.

Despite that, the Alpha woman caressing you still seemed as if she was unaffected.

“As for my name… call me Coquelicot. Shorten it as you like, I only want to hear you scream it later,” she accentuated her threat with a rough twist on your nipples, drawing a groan that escaped your lips before you could think to even stop it, “My dear flowers have been keeping an eye on you. To think the chance to take you away arrived this soon…”

“Y, you can’t do this,” you reply, your trembling, high-pitched voice undermining any attempts at loading your voice with a semblance of authority, “My roommates will be looking for me if I don’t reach home before ten, and, I attend the—“

“They have been taken care of, my little Omega,” she cut you off, hand reaching for the ribbon on your back. With that, just like unwrapping a present, your bonds unraveled, dropping into strips of ribbons on the bed. She took one end of the ribbon and lifted your wrists up, binding your hands together, then pulled the end of the knot with her teeth, forming a tight seal that did not even allow even the slightest movement.

Her fingers glide down the sides of your body, gripping your waist in a vice-grip strength. In a contrast to your state, as you get messier from sheer desperation with each tick of the seconds, she was the epitome of patience. Her other hand cupped your dripping folds, and in a contrast to her projected grace and beauty, the way she presses on your entrance almost screams out her desire, before slipping the tip of one digit in. In a teasing motion, she wriggled her finger, and it was enough to make your toes curl, the end of a choked moan slipping through pursed lips.

“That’s no good,” she tutted, then slipped a second finger in, curling her digits before she spread them apart, drawing out a high-pitched noise that slipped out before you could stop it.

“I want to hear you.”

Even if what was left of your thoughts could muster a fight, your body had long recognized it was futile. White was creeping at the edges of your vision, while your body bucked in response to any form of stimulation. Coquelicot’s movements conveyed impatience that was not visible from how calm and languid she sounded, delicate fingers massaging your walls and mapping each reaction that spilled from your lips.

Coquelicot smelled of blood and roses, distinct metallic tang fading into sweetness at the end, the scent potent enough that with a whiff, you felt like metallic sweetness had swirled on your tongue and coated your insides. She kept up the scissoring motion of her fingers, undeterred in her quest to split you apart, to truly stake her claim on you. With a shuddering breath and a mockery of an attempt to call out her name, you spilled on her fingers, coating her pale hand with your slick.

Under the throes of your still burning lust, only slightly alleviated by coming once, you beg for her.

“Please… Coque— no, please, more—,” finally, finally a plea slipped from your lips, your earlier hiss and bite all but gone as your whole being yearned, screamed for her. You try to buck your hips, to meet the base of her fingers in hopes of feeling her touch on that sweet, sweet spot once more, yet she was too quick, a confident smirk gracing her face. It was a stark contrast to the twitching member hidden beneath her short dress, its length tenting the white garment enough that if you look just a bit lower, you would have seen everything she has down there.

“Ah, now you are finally begging! Show me, show me then, my little Omega, show me how desperate you are.”

Coquelicot stopped moving her fingers, though she kept them inside you.

“Use those hips of yours, let me hear you call my name, my blooming Gazania, my beautiful Omega. Give me unshakable proof of your loyalty for me.”

You have all but thrown your dignity to the wind, allowing yourself to be consumed by this blood-coated promise of pleasure. Though you were pinned down, restricting your movement, you still obeyed the best you could, rolling your hips in an attempt to meet the base of her fingers.

If only you could see your own expression, wanton with lust and eyes no longer reflecting any coherent thoughts. Your skin shined with sweat, evidence of the furnace burning inside, and yet you still wanted - no, needed - more. Your attempts were futile, and from the amusement dancing in Coquelicot’s gaze, she was fully aware of it.

“What happened, my little Omega? Don’t you want release?”

There was mocking glee in her voice.

“I need— I need you inside me,” you admitted with trembling lips. As an afterthought, you added, “Please.”

To your surprise, she smiled, and with an embarassing, wet sound, she pulled her fingers out, leaving you with a gaping ache bigger than you have expected.

Then, sheshoved her sullied fingers into your mouth.

“Clean this up first, then.”

Her command was accentuated as the pheromones swirling in the room intensified, turning your emptiness into clawing, unending, torturous desire. Evidence of your need had long since dripped onto your inner thighs and sullied the luxurious bed you were on, sheer need driving your thoughts to nothing else but the alpha in front of you.

You obeyed, swirling your tongue on her digits, tasting yourself on her skin.

Satisfied, she pulled her fingers out, then you saw a glimpse, her elegance almost discarded out the window as she pulled down her own panties, ruined and sullied with her own juices. As she pulled her dress aside, you saw her member in all seven inches of its full glory. The gleam of metal gave away its pierced tip and sides, with a short ornament hanging on its very tip, close to the bead of precum already forming. A spiked cock ring could be seen at the base, its look reminiscent of rose thorns.

She did not give you a chance to admire it.

She aligned her pelvis with yours, looking at you with a gaze so loving, so deep in a wave of obsession that threatens to sweep you under. The tip of her cock pressed against your entrance, then it slipped in all too easily, your clenched walls allowing you to feel each bump at the side pressing against you.

Her slow entrance kept you at edge, even as the grip of her fingers tightened on your shoulders, a sign that she, too, was impatient and close to ramming everything inside. As she slid down slowly, savoring the feeling, you felt more complete. Euphoria washed over you as she finally slid everything inside you, her cock now pressing so deep you could feel it threatening to truly, finally split you apart and bind you to her in vines full of thorns and deceit.

“Try to stay awake, dear Gazania,” Coquelicot warned, the mockery made clear with her laugh.

That was not your name, but you could not find it to protest - perhaps, more like you were not given a chance to as her thrusts became faster, more erratic, a sign that she has truly let go of her restraints. Her ruby eyes almost shined with the intensity of it all, and her breaths became ragged, though you only saw that glimpse for a second before she lunged for your exposed skin, kissing marks that would paint your skin in smudged red and dark blue bruises later on. From your shoulders, the column of your neck, to your breasts, she kept you aware and able to feel everything she did, both as she rearranged your insides with each thrust, and the way her tongue swirled patterns on your stiff nipples.

Her groans became more stilted, louder, and so were your moans, spilling unbidden without care of who or what might hear the two of you tangled in twisted, bloodied passion. She pumped faster, caressing that sweet, sweet spot, her movements desperate for her own release, while you saw stars at the edge of your vision as you tipped over the edge, adding to the mess that was already pooling beneath you. Her cock twitched, once, twice inside you, then she came, her girth swelling, filling you up with both the scalding hot proof of your passionate tangle, and her dick that now acted as a plug, keeping you two in each other’s embrace.

You could feel that a little bit almost spilled out, yet it remained there, as if Coquelicot did not want any of it to go to waste.

“Haah, my flower… you are finally mine,” she muttered, warm tongue licking the spot near your neck, her breaths fanning the spot and causing you to shudder, but you were already too full, the craving of your body satisfied, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up, perhaps from the mix of shame and satisfaction. Thankfully, she seemed to understand, and helped shift your position, allowing you to sleep on your side, though still tangled. The last thing you heard, before she drifted off and left you to ponder your fate alone, was her sweet whisper.

“Let’s do it again when you are rested, my dear flower.”

[drewsbuzzcut]

Forever Doesn’t Measure

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

Part 3 here

warnings: angst, crying, pregnancy, small argument, and I think that’s all

You sit at the island bar, basking in the sweet sounds of Nolan laughing along with Mat. He’s laid out on the rug, the boy playing with cars and using Mat as a racing track. All while AJ is sleeping peacefully in the pack and play. It transports you back to certain moments of happiness, moments you wish you could always live in.

You make eye contact with Mat and it’s like he takes a skinny dip inside your mind, because he gives you a longing smile. You can see it in his eyes that he knows what you’re thinking about.

The peace doesn’t last too long when AJ wakes up in tears; it’s his feeding time. You’re quick to settle on the couch, your baby boy nestled in your arms under a blanket, happily sucking away. It’s your last month of breastfeeding before weaning him off, knowing that he can’t just not visit with Mat during his allotted time.

You focus on Angel’s blond hair and soft cheeks, distracting yourself from thinking about how you were once a married mom, but now a single one.

Mat’s body sitting beside you on the couch makes you look away from the baby. He peers at you with a softness that you’ve almost forgotten.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me. It really means a lot to be here with the boys and you,” he says, knowing that spending the Christmas holiday together is important.

You honestly didn’t want to because almost 2 weeks ago you were tagged in pictures of him and a girl together, who you assumed was his friend from home. However, the thought of your boys not seeing their father took away all your anger. You didn’t need to ruin their lives even more.

“The boys miss you a lot, and it isn’t fair to them for you not to be here.”

“I miss them, too, everyday. I miss being on morning duty. Believe it or not, it’s one of my favorite parts of being a parent,” he admits. You faintly smile, thinking about all the times Mat would come back to bed with either one of his twins or both.

“You still have morning duty,” you point out, your free hands brushing AJ’s hair to avoid reaching out for Mat.

“Yeah, for like every other week. It’s not the same. Especially because you’re not there with me,” your heart hurts at his words.

“Is this your way of saying you miss me?” You tease, desire taking over when your hand reaches out to brush his hair away from his forehead.

“Of course I miss you,” he says simply, holding your hand in his. The way his thumb sweeps over your knuckles is pure bliss.

You tilt your head towards him while letting it rest back against the couch, eyelashes fluttering and eyes glued on him. Your innocent looks breaks him down into mush.

“I miss you, too,” you say, growing shy and looking down to avoid his stare. He only guides your face to his, lips connecting in a blurring passion. You try to lean into him, but with your baby pressed to your chest, it’s kind of hard. Mat does the job, though, scooting close to you to the point you’re practically wrapped in his arms.

Your tongue seeks entrance to his mouth, prodding the seam of his lips to make its way to dance with his tongue. You have the innate need to explore his mouth as you haven’t done so in a while. He feels the same way.

“Daddy! Daddy, look!” Nolan’s shouts make the both of you jump away from each other, in a state of shock at what just happened.

“Wow, little man! That’s so cool,” Mat clears his throat before complimenting Nolan’s favorite toy that he’s showing off.

“Um… I need to burp Angel and put him down for a nap. I’ll be back,” you mutter before scurrying upstairs.

The second you’re gone, Mat notices your phone going off, and without thinking about it, he picks it up to see who messaged you.

Tito: Happy holidays! I’m so glad we finally got to see you and the boys. Angel is perfect. I miss you guys. Hopefully we can have another visit soon.

Mat frowns at the message, not aware that you flew to Vancouver to visit Anthony.

“AJ went to sleep right away. I swear I can just watch him sleep all the time,” you gush, not knowing what you’re walking into.

“You went to Vancouver?” He asks immediately, catching you off guard.

Your mouth opens and closes, truly not knowing what to say.

“Um… yeah. I took the boys to go visit Tito and Emma. It was only for a few days,” you say softly.

“How could you?” Mat asks incredulously.

“What’s the big deal?”

“We were supposed to introduce Angel to them together,” he reminds you of the detail you stupidly ignored.

“Well, we aren’t together anymore, so it shouldn’t matter,” your voice is in a whisper, hoping that Mat will get the hint to not yell.

“It does matter. He’s my best friend, not yours,” he spits out.

You fight the tears willing to slip down your cheeks.

“I’m tired of you saying hurtful things to me! I’m tired of you breaking my heart,” he tells you.

“Breaking your heart? What about the girl you went on a date with? Huh? That friend from home? Yeah, I saw those pictures of you two together,” you inform him.

“It wasn’t a date! She is a friend from home, one that has a girlfriend, but I guess you didn’t see her in those pictures. And what does it matter if I was on a date, we’re not together anymore,” he throws your words in your face.

Your hands gravitate to your stomach out of instinct, holding on to the soon to be last piece of Mat that you’ll ever have. You can feel your heart cracking, knowing that most of this is your fault. You’re the one to blame.

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter. You’re free to date whoever you want. I’m sorry for saying hurtful things to you. I don’t hate you, I hate myself. Excuse me, but I think I’m going to take a nap. I’ll be down in time for dinner, just please watch Nols and keep an ear out for Angel,” you whisper, voice hoarse and ego crumbled.

You drag yourself upstairs, heading to your closet to pull on a large hoodie that you sneakily took from Mat before you moved out. Undressing out of your outfit, you put your hair up in a messy bun, and cuddle into your bed. Sleep takes over your body in less than a second. You hope you have dreams of your family being all together again.

Mat’s upset with himself for making you cry. To keep the picture of you heartbroken out of his mind, he starts completing miscellaneous tasks around the house, something he knows you’d appreciate. He’s lucky to get Nolan down for a nap even if it’s for 20 minutes. He takes a load of laundry upstairs to fold and put away. As he’s putting some of your clothes in your drawer he finds your paperwork confirming your pregnancy. To say he’s shocked is an understatement. A flurry of thoughts rush through his mind, tears starting to cloud his eyes at the secret you’ve been keeping. He’s not upset with you for not telling him, but at the fact that he has been missing out on the journey so far.

He exits your walk-in closet, coming face to face with your sleeping form. No one can stop him as he strides over to what would be your side of the bed- you’re asleep on his side -and lets his body sink next to yours. You’re on your side, facing away from him, so once he settles he nudges your body to turn into his hold. Your face connects with his chest, an arm holding onto him while one of your legs tangles with his. Eventually you end up on top of him, the natural instinct taking over. Besides, his warmth is to die for.

He allows his fingers to card through your mess bun; the urge to comfort you, strong. He watches your features as they are contorted into something resembling peace. You never see it, but Angel and Nolan look like you when you’re asleep. Both boys share that same blissful smile with you when sleep takes over. Mat first noticed it when Nolan was around one year old, and now he sees it all the time.

Light, pounding footsteps alert Mat, Nolan is making his way to the room.

“Mommy?”

“Mommy is sleeping, buddy. What’s up?”

“I hungry!”

“I know. We’ll start dinner in a little bit. Why don’t you lay with me for a bit,” Mat makes enough room for Nolan to cuddle with you both, you ending back on Mat’s side, facing him while your arms are still around him.

His eyes start to sting, thinking about another baby with you. He is so excited. His hand travels to your stomach, alerting you in the process. Your eyes pop open and you stare into his beautiful eyes. You know he knows. It’s as if anything but you touched your stomach, you immediately go into protective mode.

“Another baby, eh?”

“Another baby,” you confirm. He just smiles, eyes closed and lips closed, but the smile is so happy and a little smug.

Your one arm falls to rest around his waist, relishing in the small contact you have with his bare skin from where his shirt rides up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” you shake your head fast and repeatedly, swearing away the thoughts of telling him before this moment. “I just couldn’t tell you. We had just broken up, and I was so shocked about the news. I just didn’t want to disappoint you even more. Even Tito said I should wait,” you say rushing through your words.

Mat’s face falls and for a minute you’re confused until you realize why. You told Tito before Mat.

No no no.

“You told Tito before me?” He asks surprised and hurt, immediately getting up and your hand latches into his waist to keep him close to you, but he’s stronger and upset. He rips himself out of your hold, disturbing Nolan in the process.

He stands, pacing a bit, one hand through the hair and the other rubbing at his neck. Those actions stop when he realizes Nolan is watching his every move, so he picks up Nolan as if he’s a protective blanket, constantly playing with his hair and kissing his head.

“Don’t be mad at Tito, please. It was word vomit. I didn’t mean to actually tell him,” you explain.

“But you still did,” Mat finishes, walking downstairs and leaving you alone with more guilt than you can handle.

You stay in bed for no more than 10 minutes, forcing yourself to get up and attend to Angel. Once he’s all changed and settled, you make your way downstairs. The air is tense beyond measure. Mat is prepping the kitchen, but takes over with AJ to let you cook as he isn’t the best.

From the time of cooking and preparing to eating, everything is silent except for the scrapes of the utensils against the plates and chewing.

Mat sits across from you, holding Angel in his lap. He’s so small compared to Mat’s arms. You start to think about just how much time Angel is missing out with him and vice versa. That’s how it’ll most likely be with the new baby, too. You don’t even realize your tears are falling until Mat is seating himself next to you to comfort you. You can only push yourself away from him. You don’t deserve his affection.

“I love you. Don’t push me away,” he whispers in your ear.

You only shake your head in response, and for the rest of dinner, you’re both silent, just watching the boys.

As you and Mat clean up around each other, you ponder how things should go from here. How will it work with you being pregnant? At the sink, you feel his arms cage you in. His tall, strong frame surrounds you. His breath flows out his mouth and down the back of your neck. You ward off the chills that sensation brings you. His head leans down, forehead resting on your shoulder. His hands move to rest on your stomach. It’s at that moment when you break down completely. Your body goes limp as your silent cries take over, but his body flows seamlessly with yours, so he has you in his hold before you hit the ground.

“Don’t do this, Mat,” you say.

“Don’t do what?” His face frowns in confusion, eyes searching desperately for yours for a clue.

“Don’t forgive me or love me just because I’m pregnant. I don’t want you to be with me for the sake of the kids,” you sob out.

“What about wanting to be together for the sake of us? I love you and I will never stop loving you,” he says so sure.

You turn to look at him when you feel droplets hitting your blouse and soaking your skin through the fabric.

“You’re breaking my heart. Please don’t,” he mutters.

“I love you,” you say for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

“I want to be with you. Please. I want you. I want our family. I fucked up so badly. I don’t hate you. I love you. I overreacted about the whole nanny situation and I’m a fucking mess, but I need you. I want you,” you practically chant as you break through your stubborn walls.

“You didn’t overreact. I was being an asshole. I’m sorry. I love you. I want you. I want our family,” he says, sealing his lips to yours. It’s a kiss that can bring you back to life. A kiss that only gives you that fleeting emotion. A kiss that only Mat can give you.

“Mommy?” You hear Nolan calling out for you, so you break away from Mat.

He looks at you with a hint of worry, but more loving than anything.

“You ‘kay?” He forces himself between you and Mat, your face held in between his little hands. He looks at you with a look that you’ve only ever see on Mat when he’s making sure everything is good.

“Yes, baby. Mommy is okay. Mommy is happy,” you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that you aren’t lying anymore. Pulling yourself off the ground with help from Mat and your little man, you bring all your boys into your arms on the couch. You feel like you can finally breathe again.

You and Mat make eye contact once more, fighting and breaking through each other’s walls- even though yours are more of a struggle to get through. You hate the way you treated him over the few months of separation, but there is nothing more healing than love being shared, love being felt, and love being created.

a/n: I’m so sorry this took long, but I hope you all love it! Thank you all for all the love and kind words<3

taglist: @literatureluster

[arsenicflame]

sprizzy this is how you lose the time war adjacent AU-

It starts with Izzy leaving a letter at the Revenge's most recent battle- we'll never know if he specifically planned for Lucius to find it, or if it was just meant for any member of the crew, but it is Lucius who finds it amongst the wreckage. Written in blocky-but-precise print, he finds a note thanking them for joining the war:

"but then you turned up and our margins vanished. You invigorated my captain again, and in doing so, invigorated me"

Lucius, being Lucius, has to write back. He sends a letter in his best calligraphy, full of flirting and innuendos, with a healthy dose of mockery at the first mate for the defeat that'll have led him to finding this letter.

Izzy, being Izzy, cant let Lucius have the last word, can't let him win. Despite the danger of their communication- the best they can hope for if their captains find out is to be labelled a traitor, to be cut off from all they know- they can't stop themselves.

And now they have a correspondence. The letters shift from taunts to tales, a mutual hatred of The Republic and a discovery that their paths had crossed before-

Izzy saved Lucius as a child, though he didn't know it then. Just a young pickpocket stalking the streets, new to the game and unaware he was being tailed- but Izzy noticed. He tries not to get involved in others business, but he also can't let a child get hurt when he could have intervened, so he makes a move on Lucius' stalker, taking him out before he got a chance to do something himself (though not without being stabbed through the shoulder) leaving Lucius none the wiser-until now.

They fall in love through their writing, dedication and devotions, talk of tea and bouquets, and an end to this godforsaken war.

"Love spreads backwards through time. I am sure there was a time I did not love you, but it feels a ghost to me now"

It ends, eventually, as all things do. Izzy's interest is noticed by Lucius' side, how he seems to precede or follow him, and a decision is made, to take out the second in command of the enemy and bring their whole side to its knees.

The plan, to have Lucius show an interest in talking with Izzy, is laughable, if it were not for the stakes. Lucius makes the poisoned letter as clear as possible, he has to make sure Izzy knows the trap he's going to fall into, to never read this letter. Make it seem as though Izzy wasn't interested in him after all, and to never speak again, only seeing each other from across the battlefield.

Izzy understands the message, he would have to be blind not to. But what choice does he have? If he doesn't read it, then Lucius will have failed, and failure is unacceptable in this war. He can't have his actions cause Lucius harm- he can't think of anything worse.

So he opens it, signing his death, and sits down to write one last letter. Congratulations on a game well played, to Lucius for managing to slip under his armour and between his ribs to take him down.

It ends, as it starts, with a letter.

(or does it?)

[writing-whump]

Nightmare

Isaiah is sick after a nightmare. Cue some fluff and comfort from Seline. Warning for emeto.

Isaiah was pretty sure their pack was ruined before it even formed. And that he had ruined his chances with Seline.

Since that difficult afternoon, things have changed between the trio. Matthew and Seline apologized to each other right away - her for not letting them know earlier of having guests over and him for scaring her. They both acknowledged partial guilt for the incident and resolved to be more tolerant in the future.

Seline promised to always message them if someone came over and ideally warn them a few days in advance. Matthew expressed deep regret over raising his shadow at her and promised he would never hurt her no matter how angry he was and reassured he wasn't being angry with her in the first place.

This did not, however, achieve the effect Isaiah had hoped for.

Seline was cold and avoiding them. She would greet them and act politely, but she hurried over to the second floor to her room any chance she got, excusing herself from sharing meals with them. She waited until they left in the morning to come down, came home late and her answers to any initiations or invitations were "don't know if I'll have time yet". Which Isaiah knew was a lie, cause she kept a calendar for months in advance and because her assistant job was flexible and confusing to understand without it.

Matthew and Isaiah both had an unspoken agreement to initiate contact on neutral ground in the shared spaces only. The second floor became Seline's exclusive territory - her room, her personal boundaries and her safe space. They were not going to breach it without explicit invitation, hoping to soothe her that way.

Except the invitation never came.

Isaiah didn't think it was necessarily him she was avoiding, but since he had comforted Matthew, shared a room with him and tried to mediate their first apologetic interaction after the incident, he had inevitably taken "his" side and fallen into the "enemy" camp.

He shouldn't have been explaining so hard that wolves needed their territory and were touchy about new wolves that invaded it without warning and that the whole thing would have been much easier if they had just become a pack. His suggestion was met with a disbelieving stare, asking him if he was insane. Yeah, he should have held his mouth shut.

But he couldn't precisely abandon Matthew to the issue either.

Isaiah got to know Matthew's stress reactions very intimately in the following weeks. Matthew asked him to train with him outside of their sparring for fun to work on his shadow's temper. He also kept up with his daily runs, waking up even earlier to go to the gym and do some boxing workouts before and after school. When he got home, the redhead usually switched on their Google Chrome on the smart TV, a clear indication he was open to having a movie night, whatever anyone picked.

Their evenings looked exactly the same since. Seline declined his offer to watch something without even giving him a look or a thought. Matthew promptly dosed off, only to stumble over to bed around midnight and get up at 4 am again for his run. Rinse, repeat.

Matthew's stress reaction was to sleep and be quiet. Coaxing a conversation out of him took a herculean effort. Then again, he could also be exhausted from all the additional workouts. Isaiah thought Matthew was working on the issue diligently and seriously enough to win some sympathy points, but Seline seemed set on not seeing any effort Matthew was making.

He also thought she had come a bit calmer from her visits to her mom over the weekend. Except afterward, she started going home every weekend, sometimes even taking Fridays and Mondays free to go home sooner. Completely shutting them down.

This left Isaiah alone in a very tense and silent apartment. He hadn't realized before how much he looked forward to coming home after they started living together. How much he cherished the afternoons cooking for everyone or sharing a glass of wine with Seline to talk over progress on their respective research projects. Or the way they would debate and laugh about movies, always switching in introducing their favourite ones to each other. He missed Matthew's good-hearted grumpiness and Seline's playful complaints and the heated discussion about that or another scene. It really felt like a home, in a way the empty vast place he had before never did.

Now living in polite charming illusions he knew alright and he hated them. Masks may have been his thing, but he only became what he wanted to be, what he wanted people to hear - because he genuinely wanted to give them something and not because he was hiding what he knew was terrible to do to someone else. His masks were heartfeltly crafted pieces of art, of himself, of things he was shaping himself to become.

But whatever this terrible silent tension was, it was too close to home in an unexpected way.

Maybe that was when the nightmares started. The foreboding feeling came right in the evening, his stomach feeling like it was hanging on water as he watched Matthew turn his face into the pillow and Seline gathering food to eat in her room, so she wouldn't have to spend even that minimal time with them.

Retiring to their shared room with Matthew didn't help much either, cause he couldn't sleep and when he did, he dreamed. He wasn't sure what he dreamed about, just that he woke up confused, nauseated and sweaty and like he didn't get any rest at all.

Matthew's sleep was very deep though. Nothing seemed to wake him once he was out, so Isaiah at least didn't have to worry about his night terrors being witnessed.

It was the same that night as well.

Isaiah woke around 3 in the morning, sweaty and breathing hard from a dream he didn't want to remember. A string of faces of all the people he had failed, that he had left behind. Familiar enough.

Except now Seline's and Matthew's faces showed up there too.

He must have had a real heavy dinner today, cause he wasn't just feeling vaguely nauseated. His mouth was actively flooded with saliva and gulping down just made his stomach twist more.

Isaiah scrambled from the bed as fast and queit as he could, though Matthew didn't even stir, and headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom.

He turned on the light, closed the door and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. His stomach was in turmoil, roiling restlessly inside him. The nausea felt like claws, black and long running up his back and Isaiah leaned over the toilet, bracing against the rim.

Taking deep breaths didn't seem to help at all. He let drool drip from his parted lips, when a sudden heave surprised him. His whole body rocked and vomit rushed out of him, hot and thick. The horrible guttural sound accompanying it was even worse.

He took some more breaths, but they were coming fast and shallow. His stomach hurt and twisted further and he knew this wasn't the end. Another terrible sound came and another thick wave of vomit with it, chunks of undigested rice and meat from dinner spluttering noisly against the water.

This was horrible and intense and he didn't even understand the cause! Surely his stomach wasn't so weak as to react to stress that wasn't even rightfully his.

His stomach shot up his throat again, but he managed to swallow it down this time, moaning the bitter taste burned his throat. Isaiah let his head fall down against his folded hand on the toilet, exhausted to the bones.

Time seemed to have stopped and slowed down at the same time. The nausea was still there, not as intense, but ever present, so he didn't dare to leave his post. His shirt was cold and sticky with sweat, making him shiver. He should buy a thicker carpet in front of the toilet, this one did miserable job sparing his knees...

The door creaked open. Isaiah didn't feel like lifting his head, it seemed to weigh a ton.

A hesitant gentle hand touched his upper back.

The contact felt electrifying, his head finally shooting up to see Seline kneeling next to him, bathrobe open around her blue PJs.

"Oh," he creaked, his voice hoarse. "Hey." Just when he thought the night couldn't be any worse.

"Hey yourself," she said, not letting her hand fall. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"

"It's nothing. Had a nightmare. Nothing serious." He let his head dropped back against his folded elbow, wanting to hide. He always felt like hiding when he felt like crap. Especially from her.

"A nightmare can make you this sick?" Seline asked, horrified. "What was it about?"

Isaiah made a helpless gesture up with his free hand, then let it fall limply beside him again.

"Go to sleep, please. Nothing fun to see here."

She reached behind him to flush the toilet. Isaiah reddened at the reminder he forgot to do it himself.

Seline rubbed his back slowly, feeling him tense and shiver as she touched the sweaty stains. "Anything I can do?"

"Just go back to sleep," he said quietly, not wanting to argue. Why did she always have to see him at his most disgusting and pathetic? Why couldn't he just be his normal, strong, tidy self, like he could with everyone else? Couldn't she come down from her fortress during the day, when he was fine and in control?

The anxiety spiked a reaction in his stomach. He groaned as the nausea made him shudder and he leaned over the toilet again, spitting into it. His stomach roiled in preparation like he was on a boat.

"Please leave, Seline. I don't feel good," he warned, brows furrowed as he rode out the next wave. His teeth clapped together, but he didn't think that would help.

"That's okay, I don't mind."

"Seline-"

"You can't seriously expect me to leave you here like this-"

Isaiah wanted to argue that was exactly what he wanted her to do, when the new wave of puke had him heaving over the toilet violently. He braced against the rim with both hands, mind going blank as his body purged in several waves after each other, leaving him breathless.

He lifted a little, his hands hurting from the coldness digging into his palms. This was so humiliating...

It was then that he noticed the warm presence against his back. Seline had her forehead pressed to his shoulder blade, hands digging into the fabric of his shirt from behind.

"Please, don't send me away. I want to help you," she said.

He reached for toilet paper, wiping his mouth clean of the drool and sighed heavily. "I don't want you to see me in this state."

"Why can't you let other people help you? Why can't I help you?" Peaking up from her place against his back, she added in a smaller voice: "Why do you not want me here?"

He couldn't stand the hurt in her voice, like he had somehow put it there. "Because I want to be perfect for you and this is the exact opposite of it," he said in exasperation.

The silence that followed was deafening. It made him realize what a terrible thing he had just said.

Isaiah groaned, pushing his face against the inside of his elbow again. "I'm so sorry."

"For what? Saying that you like me?" she said in a stunned voice.

"Yes. No. I'm sorry I said it here, at such a disgusting place and at such stupid time. I had a whole plan of how-"

"Shhhhhh," she said, leaning against him again. He could feel the place where she buried her face into him burning through his shirt. "It's alright."

"But you-"

"I like you too."

It was his turn to be stunned. He blinked, hoisting himself up, trying to turn enough to look at her.

"And you help us with embarrassing, stupid stuff all the time," she said quickly, "so it's no fair to try to prevent us from doing the same."

"This is such a terrible confession," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. She leaned back as well to meet his eyes. Despite what he said, her blushing cheeks, her tangled hair in a loose ponytail, her eyes flashing with indignation - he thought he never saw anything more beautiful.

"Shut up! I thought you would never say anything."

"I was waiting for your signals!" he protested, "I wasn't going to force-"

"Signals? I was giving you plenty. You think it's easy for a girl not to look like she is chasing the man-"

Isaiah chuckled. He was freezing, his mouth surely smelled terrible, just like the whole bathroom and it was almost 4 am and there they were, arguing. His chest felt so light and fluttery though like not in several weeks. Not since the argument.

Seline's eyes widened in surprise as she tipped back against the wall, watching him. "Hahaha. Glad you are feeling so much better."

Isaiah ran a hand through his hair. "I'm still very sorry."

"If you apologize one more time, I'm going to hit you," she threatened. He wondered how exactly she was going to do that, when he was the one trained in martial arts and with a deadly shadow.

Her hand reached forward to press against his forehead, gently brushing some hair out of its way. "You don't have a fever."

"I told you. It's just stress," he deadpanned. But he truly was feeling a lot better. His throat was still raw and his stomach was tender, but he didn't feel the weight gnawing him or the nausea at his spine. He allowed himself to lean a bit into her touch, eyes closing momentarily against the exhaustion that hit him as a ton of bricks.

Seline rocked closer to him again, face almost touching his neck.

"Stop that," he chided in a resigned tone. "I'm disgusting."

"You better stop with that talk," she said. He blushed, squirming self-consciously as her hand slid from his forehead to his cheek. "I couldn't find you disgusting if I tried," she whispered.

He wrinkled his nose in disbelief, but he was too tired and confused from the adrenaline crash to argue further.

Seline leaned away, but tugged at his sleeve. "Come up to my room to sleep with me?"

Isaiah forgot about the embarrassment entirely. "Oh?"

Seline's whole face reddened, waving her hand at him adorably. "Not like that! Just...I thought it might help against the nightmares. If you want."

Isaiah watched her in amusement, realizing slowly what she had just offered. Breaching the ban. She just invited him over to her room, her territory, her kingdom.

He smiled at her, blinking tiredly. "I would like that."

---

@bellysoupset

[falloutjuli]

Look who got mad Chuuya brainrot so Im gonna drop this one here while I continously work on my other two ideas uwu. dont even ask how i came up with any of this, I typed this in like two nights I think? Im not even sure anymore lmaooooo.

Also its my first time writing for BSD sooo, hi im nervous af.

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

Chuuya Nakahara × fwb!gn!Reader - Lets be more than friends

Wordcount: 2,7k

Short summary: After an excruciating couple weeks, Chuuya texts his friend to come over and they do. Unfortunately after some great time together, Chuuya gets hit with a dose of reality that the situation is changing and perhaps he has waited too long.

Warnings: Very brief not super detailed smut, some cursing, FWB Situation, toxic frommer relationship mentioned, theres a creepy guy reader goes on a date with. THEY/THEM pronouns and Y/N used.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -----------------------

>>Could you do me a favor? Please go to my apartment, make yourself comfortable, order some food for the two of us and then let me fuck you until I forget my own name.<<

Arriving at his front door, Chuuya wondered if perhaps he had been a little too harsh in his message. But the smell that invaded his nostrils the second he opened the door told him they didn't take it in a mean way. Kicking off his shoes, putting away his hat and coat he walked into the kitchen where they were staring at his oven.

"Welcome home Chuuya." Y/N said, giving him a warm smile. "Roughly thirty minutes, then food should be ready, sorry that's it's that long, I miscalculated my time preparing."

"You could have just gotten takeout or something. I didn't expect you to cook. And also..." Chuuya looked at his couch that was cleaned up. And now that he looked around, everything was cleaner.

"Gathered your laundry, put on a machine, and cleaned a little. Like I said, welcome home."

The cheeky smile they gifted him, while saying so nonchalantly that they did all this for him, it had Chuuya grin, walking quickly over and lifting them up to sit them down on the counter. Getting between their legs, the redhead grinned up at Y/N, who lovingly put their hands on his cheeks, cupping his face.

Their lips finally met and both relaxed into the other, with Y/N brushing their thumbs over his smooth skin and Chuuyas arms wrapped tightly around Y/Ns waist.

This wasn’t enough in Chuuyas mind, he needed more so his tongue rather quickly invaded their mouth, making his desperation rather clear. Pulling away after a while, a little out of breath, Y/N spoke up; "We got still twenty-five minutes left until your oven beeps soooo..."

Without any hesitation, Chuuya lifted them up, carrying them over to his bedroom to do what they did so many times already.

The undressing of Chuuya was practiced by Y/N so many times now that it happened very quickly. The buttons opened, vest, shirt and accessories discarded (except for the choker, which they never took off, they had once confessed to Chuuya how much it turned them on), his pants pooling on the floor.

Thanks to Y/N rather simple outfit tonight they were undressed soon too and so it wasn't before long that Chuuya was inside of them, the main noise that filled the room being their moans. Y/N still had a sly grin on their face and Chuuya was determined to fuck it out of them.

"What you grinning for like that?"

"Dunno. Ah... I just like the way...fuck...it riles you up."

Biting his lip, he picked up the pace, making the person underneath him a moaning mess.

---

His hand roughly grabbed a fist full of h/c colored strands of hair as he came down their throat, a shaky "Fuck~" on his lips.

Patiently, Y/N waited until he had rode out his orgasm and took his whole length one more time before letting him go and swallowing the cum. "You're too good to me." Chuuya said, falling backwards on his bed from his sitting position, still a little out of breath.

"Oh please, it's nothing." They said, got up, and looked at the sprawled-out man. He was pretty, oh so pretty.

Putting their underwear back on and stealing one of the bathrobes that looked so exquisite, they walked back out to the kitchen, checking on the food, which finally looked done. While carefully pulling the steaming hot Lasagna out, Chuuya exited his bedroom, dressed in Casual sweatpants and shirt.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked as he crept up behind Y/N, pressing a few light kisses onto their neck. "Not at all. Don't worry. I know how you are when you come back from a long mission and then get even more work loaded onto you."

Chuuya kind of disliked how easy they were able to read him, but at the same time it made things so easy. They understood each other wordlessly. Y/N always knew what he needed, wasn't mad if he was unable to keep in touch due to work and was there whenever he needed them. It was perfect.

So, while he let Y/N fill plates with food, Chuuya grabbed wine and glasses for them, placing them on the couch, where not long after Y/N then proffered the plates and took seat next to him. Putting on the TV for some background noise, Chuuya leaned back with a filled glass in hand, taking a long sip.

"Thank you. For everything." He whispered quietly, almost thinking his friend hadn't heard him, but they did reply.

"No, don't thank me. I'm just helping you out a little."

"I have to. I haven't texted you in a couple of weeks and then only send you that message that I typed while rushing out of my boss’s office after getting more work loaded onto me." And without even wanting to, anger filled him, but it just as quickly subsided when a warm hand was placed on his chest, calmly petting him.

"Don't sweat it. You're here, you have wine, so relax a little."

Moving to sit on him, straddling him, Y/N got comfortable and reunited their lips again. He tasted like his wine, sweet though also a little bitter, which was so unapologetically Chuuya in every way.

Just when that new make out session was getting heated once more, with their hands in his red hair and his hands slipping underneath the robe, a phone notification ripped them out of their bliss.

 "Sorry I..." they mumbled as they leaned over, grabbing the device from the couch and swiftly unlocking it. Chuy's groaned, taking another sip. "Who's interrupting?" He asked and the grin on Y/Ns face grew wide.

"My date for next week."

Suddenly it felt like the wind has been knocked out of Chuuyas lungs. He just stared at his friend, who was happily texting, on top of him.

His chest felt heavy, his thoughts raced through his mind, but he couldn't even make out what he was thinking, nor what he was feeling.

"A date?" He asked, his voice suddenly sounding strange to him. "Yeah. I went out with friends recently and I met some really nice guy who kept buying me drinks!" They laughed, putting their phone aside.

"And we exchanged numbers and he asked me out. Aren't ya happy for me?"

"Yeah totally. It's what you deserve!" He lied through his teeth. Unexplainably he didn't feel happy, though it was what he had hoped for Y/N all this time.

He had met them after they got out of a horrible relationship. And out of their friendship and shared need for human contact blossomed a little friends with benefits situation.

He knew what they were, so why did his chest feel like it was burning, why did he feel regret that he had left Y/N for weeks, allowing some asshole who wasn't deserving of them to even get a chance.

"Aw thank you. I'll let you know how it went. But for now, we should get eating, otherwise I'll feel like I wasted all my time preparing this." They slipped out of his lap, plopping down beside him and grabbing their plate.

His appetite was lost but Chuuya still ate, not wanting them to feel like it was going to waste.

The meal continued in an awkward silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils and the distant sounds of the city outside. Chuuya mechanically put food in his mouth, but it might as well have been cardboard for all he tasted. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As they ate, Y/N seemed oblivious to Chuuyas inner turmoil. They chatted about their upcoming date, sharing more details about the guy they had met and their plans for the evening. Chuuya tried to feign interest, asking questions, and nodding at appropriate times, but his heart wasn't in it.

He couldn't shake the feeling of regret, the nagging thought that he had missed an opportunity. They had been there for each other in the aftermath of Y/N's horrible breakup, and their friends-with-benefits arrangement had provided comfort and solace.

But somewhere along the way, he had allowed himself to become emotionally attached, even if he hadn't realized it until now.

And this realization now threatened to crush him under the weight it held. From the corner of his eye, he looked at Y/N, who still wasn't aware of his silent demise at all. Their eyes were on the TV, a kind smile on their lips as always.

Soon the dinner was over, food had been eaten, wine has been downed, and internally Chuuya was still freaking out in a way. But what was he supposed to do? Overstep their boundaries, and just tell them he got attached now that they met someone? That would have been cruel and unfair to them, so he swore to not say anything about it.

"Hey you alright?" Y/N asked, placing their hand on his, concern written all over their face. "Nothing to worry about. Just thinking about all the work I'll have to do the coming days." Seemingly believing his lies, they smiled again, and went to clean up.

"You don't have to-" Chuuya said but was immediately hushed. "Let me do this for you."

So, he let them, he couldn't deny them.

Once everything was clean and Y/N was back in her own clothes, Chuuya accompanied them to the door.

"You won't allow me to thank you, but please know I'm glad you were here tonight."

"Always Chuuya. Just text me when you can, and I won't be mad when you won't, I know you're busy." He nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts only clouding with regret over his missed chance. Y/N quickly hugged him tight, mumbling; "Alright then, see you soon hopefully."

"Yeah, see you soon." He replied and watched them leave. Back inside behind closed doors, he just walked to his bed, laid down and felt the emptiness that suddenly felt crushing. He had never felt lonely in his bed.

But tonight, he did.

---

Radio silence from both ends followed that evening. Chuuya was predictably busy with Mafia work while Y/N was simply caught up in their own life and prepared for their date.

So Chuuya didn't really expect a sudden message appearing on his phone that read; >> SOS, help me! I'm at the Yokohama Sunset grill place, pllsss<<

"Will you guys be alright without me?" Chuuya asked directed at his subordinates, who were by now only cleaning up the guys Chuuya left behind.

"Of course, Nakahara!" One replied so Chuuya quickly got on his motorcycle and took off towards the place mentioned in the message.

The drive towards the restaurant was rather pleasant, the early dusk painted the sky all kinds of colors and the air was chilly but not too cold yet.

His mind was restless, hoping nothing too bad has happened. And in case it did, well whoever hurt Y/N better be prepared for the wrath of a Mafia executive with the ability to manipulate gravity.

Arriving at the fancy looking  place he spotted his friend near the entrance being talked to by a guy who was rather rudely invading their personal space.

Y/N was smiling but Chuuya immediately spotted that it was a fake and pained one. He quickly got off and walked over, his coat wafting behind him as he did. "Chuuya!" Y/N immediately called out, leaving their leaned position. And meeting Chuuya halfway.

"Hey woah woah, Y/N we ain't done yet." The guy called out and came after them.

Chuuyas eyes narrowed as he approached the scene, his protective instincts kicking in. He stood beside Y/N, his presence meant to offer support without escalating the situation. Y/N, visibly uncomfortable, took a step closer to Chuuya.

"Listen," Y/N began, their tone polite but firm, "I appreciate the evening, but I'm just not feeling it. Let's part ways amicably."

The guy's cocky demeanor faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, leaning in closer to Y/N. "Come on, don't tell me you'd pick that shrimp over me," he sneered, glaring at Chuuya. "He's barely a man. Honey, you can't be real. Come on, let's go to my place."

Chuuya clenched his fists, his temper rising, but he reminded himself to stay calm. He didn't want to make things worse for Y/N. Instead, he spoke in a measured tone. "Look, she's made her decision, and you need to respect that. It's time to move on."

Y/N nodded in agreement, their fake smile still in place. "Yeah, sorry, but I'm really not interested. Thank you for the evening, though."

The guy's face contorted with anger, and he took a step back, his frustration evident. "You're making a big mistake," he spat before storming off.

Chuuya watched him leave, making sure he was well and truly gone before turning his attention back to Y/N. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, genuine concern in his eyes.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, their shoulders relaxing. "Yeah, thanks to you. I really didn't want things to get any worse."

Chuuya gave them a reassuring smile. "I've got your back, always. Let's get out of here and grab a drink perhaps? My place is closer than yours, but only if that’s alright with you…“ He said, and carefully examined their reaction, not wanting to cause any mire discomfort.

“Yes please, get me out of here.“ They replied and followed Chuuya over to his motorcycle. They have ridden together a few times already, but it still felt a little weird every time again.

---

The ride to Chuuyas apartment was silent, but it was a comfortable one. Y/Ns arms around his frame felt nice and Chuuya felt more than happy that they had contacted him to rescue them in a sense.

They remained in silence all the way up Chuuyas apartment, and even until they were both seated on the couch with wine filled glasses. Putting an arm around them, Chuuya pulled Y/N close.

"You alright?" He asked as his head leaned on theirs. "Yeah. Thank you for coming. The guy kept pestering me no matter how many times I said no. He wasn't like that before and didn't know what to do so I texted you."

Suddenly they leaned away and looked at Chuuya shocked. "I didn't call you away from work or anything, right?"

Laughing, he waved his hand and shook his head. "No. Also don't worry your pretty head about that. I'll gladly come safe you any time from some creep." Smiling brightly, they clicked their glasses together and then took a long sip.

Feeling glad that his beloved was back with him, safe and sound, he also felt dread creeping up in him again. This time your date went as poor as possible, but what about a next time?

He didn’t even want there to be a next time. It was time to be honest.

“Hey, Y/N?” He asked carefully. Making a humming noise as a signal to continue, Y/N looked expectantly at him.

“I…I think I like you more than I should, considering what he are and I…” Okay, that had sounded a lot more smooth in his mind, now it was just awkward, with them staring blankly at him.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to somehow formulate what he was trying to say.

“Chuuya, are you asking me out?” Y/N asked and Chuuya just answered with an enthusiastic; “Yes!”

Much to his surprise, they laughed warmly, before putting a hand on his. “I’d love to. I think we can skip a couple of steps and get right to the fun parts huh?”

It took Chuuya a second before he realized what Y/N was saying. “The fun parts are what I’m best at.”

Pulling them over and placing them in his lap, Chuuya passionately pressed his lips onto theirs, enjoying the smile his partner had as he did so.

“I know.” Y/N said as they pulled away, pressing a couple of light kisses all over Chuuyas blushing face. "But I am also pretty good at them, no?"

[mytheoristavenue]

Ojiro's Hidden Talent

When the band was formed, the guys' positions just kinda...fell into place. Tokyami already knew guitar and bass, and had some experience with singing, and his deep voice was perfect for metal music. Shoji took to the drums quickly and due to his quirk and vocal range was perfect for backup vocals. Tokoyami also knew piano and was able to teach Shoji the basics quickly, now he's a master of mixing and keys which expands what he can create instrumental-wise.

Then there was Ojiro. He wasn't really into all this like the others were, he just wanted to feel included. To his credit, he did play acoustic guitar as a teen, so picking up bass wasn't all that hard for him. Originally, Tokoyami offered for him to be the lead guitarist, Ojiro denied it, he didn't want the attention. As a bassist, he didn't have to move much, didn't have to do crazy solos, didn't have to interact with the crowd much. He could just be included without being in the spotlight.

Little did the others know, Ojiro has pipes. He always would work on some solo stuff on his own time, not being as into all the heavy metal the others liked. He preferred lighter, more emotionally mature stuff.

It wasn't until Tokoyami got a call from their manager that they'd signed a label for a new album that he and Shoji found out about their friend's talent. Meeting up, they decided to head to Ojrio's apartment to tell him the news in person, unannounced. They stopped in their tracks when they reached his door and overheard him covering a Linkin Park song.

"When my time comes, forgive the wrong that I've done! Help me leave behind some reason to be missed!" Came a voice from the other side, whiny and cracking and dripping with raw emotion and natural-born talent. "Don't resent me! When you're feelin' empty, keep me in your memory! Leave out all the rest, leave out all the rest!"

Shoji and Tokoyami exchanged astonished glances, like they'd just discovered a star- and they had.

A text message pinged on Ojiro's phone, interrupting the Bluetooth surround system in his living room. He stepped away from the mic and set his guitar on the couch to check it. 'Look outside.' It read, Shoji's name scrolling across the top of the notification.

"No way-" the blonde breathed, heart dropping as he darted fro the window, sure enough finding his bandmates and best friends on his porch. "What the hell?!" he fussed, throwing the door open. "You can't just come over out of the blue without asking first! What if I wasn't home or had a girl over?"

"Do you have a girl over?" Shoji quipped with a knowing smirk.

"W-Well no, but-"

"We got picked up by a label," Tokoyami interjected, grinning as his friend's expression fell from irritation to blank disbelief, and then morphed into pure, unadulterated excitement. "We're gonna record an album," He elaborated, before pointing a finger at him. "And you're gonna sing on it."

"W-What?!" Ojrio spat, trembling at all the new revelations. "B-But you're the singer! I-I don't sing!"

"You do know," Shoji chuckled, patting the bassist on the back. "You've hardly been involved with songwriting this far, now it's your turn to shine."

"B-But..." The blonde still hesitated, eyes darting over to the raven. "W-What about you? I don't wanna be the front man, I can't handle that kind of attention..."

Tokoyami simply smiled. "Oh, you couldn't dethrone me even if you wanted to. But..." he trailed with a content sigh. "I'd be more than happy to take over bass and backups every once in a while if you'll sing and lead guitar."

"Y-You mean that...?" Ojiro sputtered, still in utter shock, but now beginning to fall in love with the idea of being in the limelight for small doses at a time. All it took was a confirming nod from the crow and he was all in.

Ever since, Ojiro has taken lead vocals and guitar on at least three songs per album, having started on the second, if you count their demo as the first. He draws a lot of inspiration from rock/rap bands, and now even has Tokoyami rapping on tracks with him while he sings and Shoji provides backups and harmony.

None of Ojiro's songs have ever been released for longer than a week without being in the top 100 for their time. While they don't tend to break top 10 often, they are always considered favorites by fans and his new spin on their music helped frow their fanbase tenfold.

[drowning-in-cacophony]

the stone or the pebbles

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 281: ripple effect

She tosses the stone with too heavy a hand; the grey lump soars over an orange sky and plunges deep into the lake without a single skip. A dead-weight doomed to spend the next decade languishing under soft waves, so far from the sunlight. It feels more than fitting.

Instead of watching the successful skip, hops across a still surface to a beautiful horizon, she gets to watch the ripples instead. The dip of the new waves, shoved down from the weight of the stone and gravity in equal parts. The way they cascade out, reaching as far as they can. Bumps of orange-tinted blue, each losing their power the further they go, all hoping to brush the shore. They don’t make it that far. What she lacks in control she more than makes up with force. Shame that doesn’t really translate to anything useful.

The silty shore digs into her thighs when she drops to a shit, legs bunching up to her cheeks. There’s other stones, sure, all glistening dully around, but a proper attempts not going to bring anything new. She’s not a kid anymore; she doesn’t believe in wishes. Get to seven in a row and everything you want will come true. That sort of shit didn’t work when she was eight and all she wanted was a horse. It’s not going to work at seventeen either, when what she wants is the impossible.

The ripples have lost most of their momentum now. It’s a gentle bobbing, the last trace, like a bump in a quilt just begging to be smoothed back. A crease pushed straight. She mashes her palm against her knee in the motion, squints at the murmurs and imagines ironing them perfect. Warping reality – that would probably be the only way to get what she wants. Learn how to change the world they live on, but of course that’s not her job.

It shouldn’t be anyone’s job, but it’s expected and hurts in same weight doses that it’s her mother’s.

She grinds her hand into her knee, harder now, the same force to throw a stone, until the bone there twinges a little and her palm gets a bit of fabric rub from her leggings. This pain doesn’t take anything from the bloody wound that’s spreading open in her heart. There’s only one thing to suture that. The only thing she can’t have.

Ripples: the consequence of something displacing. A stone to water. What happens to her, then, with the huge fucking asteroid that’s about to obliterate everything?

 

A shoe's scuff behind her, and she knows who it is so she’s not going to look. It’ll be the same excuses. The same not-funny opener, the one that tries to stuff her feelings out into the lake, to drown along with her thrown stone. Stuff it down is the message. Think about what your mom needs. But what about what she needs? How is it that she’s the one that’s got to compromise? Her fingers bunch up, this time down in the silt. A few tiny pebbles to thread through her fingers, none effective enough to truly disturb the lake. If she tossed them, a drizzling rainstorm, here for a second and gone the next. Pointless. The little currents they’d create like stepping stones, only good enough to disturb the reflection of the sun and the trees, and even that wouldn’t last long enough. That’s what this is meant to be for her, she thinks. A momentary toss, a few stray debris pieces. Something to disrupt her, sure, but not for too long. She can recover, is the assumption. She has to recover.

It’s not momentary though, and if they listened to her for longer than a minute they’d all understand that. It’s not the pebbles. It’s the fucking stone.

The sigh comes next, a story she knows too well. Her brows knit an impossible knot, her chest a suffocating thing before the wheedling words have even come, because there’s the thing. It’s always the same song. A skipping stone, seven successful bumps over the water, their wish coming true.

But she’s not a still lake. Their wishes can’t come true, but then neither can hers.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #36

36. FINLAND Windows95Man - "No Rules!" 19th place

Decade ranking: 143/153 [Above Nadir, below Let3]

Okay so, I promised in Saturday's post that I would try to be positive, but I may already have to rescind on that promise lol. (the "lol" is for punctuation because I definitely did not laugh.) "No rules!" stinks and has very few redeeming qualities. 🙂 Natalia was right, she WAS robbed by a Nudist Demon!

For real, does anyone over the age of twenty-five enjoy this dumpster fire? If so, fukk meee. LOVE YOURSELVES.

As I noted in my UMK review back in Feb:

I have difficulty buying into this hyperactive ball of bad taste. “Fuck The System” always feels like the go-to message of individuals that fail to fit into social structures that aren’t fully of their own shaping. For an entry that’s all “live as you like, there’s no rules!” in its messaging, these two look like they conform to just about every styling and behavioural rule associated with Zoomer culture: A total disregard for general aesthetics over a dumbed-down drone of a beat because everything is ironic and nothing is to be taken seriously.  It is a depressing take on life. Yeah sure, a bit of camp levity is welcome in this loathesome world, but any happy song that weaponizes irony like this one trends towards encouraging irresponsibility, cynicism and nihilism. Some things DO matter in life, you know? You need to afford your bills and groceries, charge your social batteries, cultivate your friendships, or else you’ll wind up living alone in a van, down by the river. But if the latter life appeals to you, then this is the entry for you, I guess. For me though; this contest is already has one Joost Klein. Let’s not add a second one from Finland.

Funny how I nailed that even before knowing the full extent of it. I ofc vastly underestimated how bad the live would be, and as soon as I'd seen it my scepsis immediately supernova'd into intense HATRED. If ONLY "Paskana" hadn't been weak as piss. Yes, the cringe in "No Rules!" is deliberate, obviously, I have a sense of humour. Having a sense of humour is why I hate it? How much "deliberated cringe" can one tolerate before concluding "nope, this is r o t t e n." Does it start with

THE BAD GUNTER IMPRESSION?

or

THE DONALD DUCKING?

or

CALLING HIMSELF" A QUEEN"?

or

screaming "SEE ME SLAYYYY" :proceeds to not slay: ?

It definitely ends in whatever this shot is supposed to be.

Humour is subjective sure enough, and Windowsninetycringeman's jokes fall flatter than a pancake á moi. Why is everything denim? Why is this THIRTY-NINE YEAR OLD MAN still engaging in toilet humour and internet speak? Grow the f up? The art lies in the execution and Finland showed neither. I do NOT like Europapa much, but having Finland and not Netherlands in the final vibes wrong on so many levels. Europapa at least had a clear plan and delivered its nonsense in contained, piecemeal doses? It was COMPETENT in what it attempted to be (A Televote Winner), not a lazy amalgation of simple-minded drunk jokes strung together over a Planet of The Bass megamix as some sort of a Hail Mary. Joost and Teemu represent the Expectations/Reality divide of Zoomer Nonsense and it was darksided that only the latter got to compete for points. But on top of that, Teemu was generally just full of shit? Hooray, an Old Millennial engaging in Zoomer Cringe who lets an actual zoomer do all the vocal heavy lifting, without giving him a single featuring credit. Yay! It's a painfully accurate depiction of what being a zoomer is like, but not an intentional one.

Also remember when Teemu said he would "try to discreetly approach the other contestants to find ways to show support for Palestine" (remember that this contest was supposed to be 'not political'?) Hm yes discreet. So discreet he declared his intentions to interviewers so that everyone would know it was HIS idea. "Discreet", human please. And the result of all that talk was...

(lol I'm SO making it sound like I care about what political standpoints any of these acts took, and I don't. But I do call out a fraud when I spot one.)

Yeah well thanks for trying, but I'd rather you hadn't. A statement you can apply to my feelings of the entry overall. Okay, we've reached full circle, time to move on to our designated palate cleanser because THIS page is a safe zone for people of good taste.

The universe where YLE overrules the results and sends THEM to ESC is the one where we head to Helsinki twice in a row.

THE RANKING