#my trainer was like idk how you stayed on just now

[michimichim]

author’s note: yes, yes i wrote 8.2k of pure filth and sin. yes i did that. and you would do it too, for a check?!🧍🏾‍♀️

ningning x g!p reader -> you were so adamant on never crossing the line between coach and client. what changed??

The metro hums steadily, its wheels grinding against the tracks in a low, rhythmic growl that vibrates through the floor and up into your legs. The air is cold, mixed with the distant scent of someone’s coffee and the crisp, sterile smell of the train itself. You’re slouched in your seat, one earbud dangling loosely, the other playing a muted TikTok audio with your duffel bag sitting heavily between your spread feet.

You swipe lazily through your feed—a dog singing Expresso by Sabrina, a chef flipping pancakes, a man tumbling mid-spin—when your screen suddenly goes silent. A notification slides in from the top, muting the video.

For a moment, you think it’s probably Ning announcing she’ll be late again, her schedule bleeding into yours like it does at times.

“the companys gyms closed come to my place instead … i still want my session :( ”

You stare at the message, your thumb hovering over the screen. The gym’s closed? Since when? You tap the notification and type back, “Why’s the gym closed?”

Her reply comes almost instantly, as if she’d been waiting for you to ask. “not the owner idk.”

You let out a small laugh. Typical. You send back a thumbs up, followed by, “Address?”

The response is swift, as expected. An address pops up. Before you can click out of the chat, your eyes catch the last message from her—a view-only-once photo she’d sent a week ago. You hadn’t responded, but the image lingers in your mind like a stubborn song.

It was late that night, after your workout session. She’d texted you out of the blue, asking about squat positions. You’d rolled your eyes, knowing full well she’d already mastered the form. But then the photo came through—a view-only-once shot of her hips, the curve of her waist accentuated by the dim lighting. Her skin had looked soft, almost glowing, the faint shadow of her sports bra strap cutting across her back. The caption read: “sooo sore.”

You hadn’t replied. You never did. But the image stayed with you, popping up at the most inconvenient times—like now, as you sit on the metro. You shift in your seat, bouncing your legs lightly as the train slows into the next station. The address she sent isn’t too far—just five stops past the gym. You exit the chat and pull up the map, double-checking the route. 

You’ve been Ning’s fitness coach for a little over three months now. When she first walked into the gym, you didn’t recognize her—not that you would’ve, anyway. You don’t keep up with pop music or the latest celebrities. But even then, there was something about her that made her hard to ignore.

She’d strutted in wearing a pink tracksuit that hugged her figure a little too perfectly, the zipper pulled down just enough to reveal a sliver of a sports bra underneath. Her hair was styled in loose waves, and her makeup was flawless, as if she’d just stepped out of a photoshoot rather than a workout session. She carried herself like someone who knew exactly how much space she deserved to take up, a cold confidence bordering on arrogance.

Yet, there was a playfulness to her too, something appreciative in her eyes as they swept over you, lingering for a moment too long on your arms, your shoulders, your stomach. It wasn’t subtle—the way she looked you up and down, as if judging you but couldn’t quite decide if she approved.

“Are you my new trainer?” she’d asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a practiced ease. Her voice was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it, like she was testing you.

Far from impressed, you’d nodded, your tone flat. “If you’re Ning, then yes.”

She’d smirked, as if your indifference amused her. “Lucky me,” she’d said, dragging out the words like she was savoring them.

At first, you thought she’d be like most of your clients—rich, entitled, and quick to quit when the workouts got too hard. But Ning surprised you. She showed up consistently, pushed herself harder than anyone you’d trained in a while, and never complained. Well, almost never. She had a habit of backtalking, questioning your methods with a snark that made it clear she was just trying to get under your skin.

And she did. Not in the way she probably intended, though.

It wasn’t that you were affected by her. You weren’t. But you noticed things—the way she’d “accidentally” brush against you while reaching for a water bottle, her fingers grazing yours just long enough to make you wonder if it was on purpose. The way she’d stretch in front of you, her movements slow, as if she were putting on a show. The late-night texts she’d send, asking about workout tips you’d already explained a dozen times, only to follow up with a photo that had nothing to do with it.

You told yourself it was harmless. That she was just being Ning—playful, flirty, and a little too confident for her own good. But you couldn’t deny that she had a way of testing your patience, of pushing boundaries you hadn’t even realized were there.

Like the time she’d placed her hand on the small of your back, her touch light but lingering, as she leaned in to ask a question about her form. Or the way she’d laugh at her own jokes, her eyes sparkling as she looked at you like she knew something you didn’t.

You didn’t let it get to you. You couldn’t.

The elevator doors slide open, and you step into the hallway, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. The air smells faintly of vanilla, mixed with the crisp, clean scent of expensive cleaning products. The walls are lined with modern art, the kind that looks like it costs more than your monthly rent, and the soft hum of the building’s heater system fills the silence.

You follow the numbers on the doors until you reach hers. The gold plaque beside the door reads “Penthouse A” in sleek, minimalist font. There’s muffled music coming from inside—a rap song with a heavy bassline that thrums through the door. Adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, you knock twice.

The door opens almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting on the other side. Ning leans against the frame, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s dressed in a white top that stopped just below her navel and a pair of booty shorts that hugged her curves in a way that felt almost intentional. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, a few strands framing her face, and her lips curved down as she takes you in.

She tilts her head, her gaze trailing slowly from your hoodie to your navy blue shorts, lingering for a beat too long on the exposed skin of your legs. “You know it’s freezing, right?” she says, her voice lilting with mock concern, though the glint in her eyes gives her away. “Did you even check the temperature before leaving the house?”

You shrug, the movement loose and unbothered. “I run hot,” you say, your tone dry. 

Ning steps aside, her arm brushing against yours as you pass her. The contact is brief, almost accidental, but her lips curve into a small smile as she closes the door behind you.

The living room stretches out before you, bathed in the warm glow of a single floor lamp. The city glitters through the windows, a painting of lights blurred by the faint condensation on the glass. A yoga mat lies in the center of the room, flanked by a pair of dumbbells in front of the t.v. The air carries a faint sweetness—vanilla, maybe—mixed with the crispness of clean linen.

“Nice place,” you say, toeing off your shoes before dropping your bag by the mat.

“Thanks.” Her voice floats from behind you, light and airy. She moves toward the kitchen, her steps unhurried, the soft swish of her shorts brushing against her thighs. The muffled bass of a rap song pulses faintly in the background.

She opens the fridge, the cool light spilling over her face as she glances over her shoulder. “Can I get you a drink?” Her white nails tap lightly against the door, a casual rhythm that matches the beat of the music. “Water? Tea? Something stronger?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

You kneel by your bag, unzipping it with a sharp tug. The sound of Ning rummaging in the kitchen fills the silence—the clink of glass, the soft hiss of water from the tap. When you glance up, she’s leaning against the counter, a glass dangling from her fingers.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” she asks, her head tilting slightly. The light catches the curve of her neck, the faint sheen of sweat already glistening at her collarbone.

“I’m good, love,” you say, pulling out the resistance band. The material stretches taut between your hands as you test its give, the snap of rubber sharp.

She hums, low and noncommittal, “Love,”  before pushing off the counter. “That’s new.” Her footsteps are soft against the hardwood as she crosses the room, glass still in hand. She sets it down on the coffee table.

You hum back distractedly. Dismissive.

“So,” she says, turning to face you. Her arms cross over her chest, drawing attention to the way her top rides up just enough to reveal a winking jewel nestled in her belly button. The light catches the piercing, sending a faint glimmer. “What’s the plan for today?”

You stand, the resistance band still in hand, and gesture toward the mat. “Warm-up first. Then we’ll work on your core.”

Her lips twitch, like she’s holding back a laugh. “My core, huh?” She steps onto the mat, slowly , savoring the way your eyes follow her. She pauses, tilting her head slightly, her ponytail swaying with the motion.

“What do you think of my progress so far?” she asks, her voice light but laced with something sharper. Without waiting for an answer, she turns around, her hands resting on her hips as she glances over her shoulder. The curve of her waist dips into the swell of her hips, the fabric of her shorts clinging just enough to emphasize the shape of her ass.

When she turns back around, the outline of her breasts is unmistakable, the peaks of her nipples pressing against the fabric as she shifts her weight slightly. Her stomach is taut, the faint shadow of muscle definition visible beneath her smooth skin. Every movement she makes—the slight arch of her back, the way her shoulders roll as she adjusts her stance—draws attention to the lines of her body, lean and sculpted but undeniably soft in all the right places.

You step closer, the resistance band still dangling from your fingers. Your eyes trail over her body, oh so slowly, taking in what you hadn’t let yourself linger on before. 

You don’t rush. You take your time, letting your eyes roam over every detail, every inch of her. 

When your eyes finally meet hers, she’s still looking at you, lips parted slightly, like she’s waiting for you to say something. Anything.

You don’t disappoint.

“You’ve got the kind of body,” you say, pausing, your voice low and steady, “that makes me want to skip the workout and just fuck you right here on this mat.”

For a moment, she freezes. Her lips part slightly, a soft inhale catching in her throat, and her eyes widen just enough to betray the shock she’s trying to hide. 

She then bites her lower lip—plump, teasing, the kind of mouth that makes you wonder how much work she could put into something if she really tried. The glint in her eyes sharpens, flickering between shock and something darker, something intrigued.

But before she can regain her footing, you’re already pulling away. Your face smooths into cool indifference, like the last five seconds hadn’t just happened, like you didn’t just knock her off balance and leave her scrambling for control. Let her chew on that for a while.

The corner of your mouth twitches, barely noticeable. You lean back, exuding nothing but ease, like you weren’t the one who just set fire to the air between you.

“Let’s get to work.” The sharp clap of your hands slices through the tension, final, dismissive.

For a beat, she doesn’t move. Then, a soft, breathy laugh escapes her—equal parts incredulous and amused. She tilts her head, smirk curling slow and taunting. “That’s it?” she says, her voice thick with mock disappointment. “No follow-through? Figures.”

The taunt is obvious—bait, a challenge wrapped in condescension. She’s used to winning, used to having people scramble to impress her. She’s trying to make it sound like you’re the one who can’t keep up.

You don’t take it.

Instead, you pick up the resistance band, rolling it between your fingers, your grip tightening just slightly. Follow-through? She’ll get it. Just not the way she’s expecting.

“Warm-up first,” you say, tone all business, as if you hadn’t just said something filthy enough to make her breath hitch. “Then we’ll hit your core.”

Her eyes flick to your hands, then back to your face, her smirk deepening like she’s already imagining ways to make you crack.

Good. Let her try.

The workout begins, and it doesn’t take long for Ning to start pushing boundaries.

During side lunges, she sways her hips with every rep, exaggerating the movement just enough to make you notice. The curve of her ass so fucking alluring as she dips low, her shorts riding up with each motion, teasing more skin than they cover. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

She glances over her shoulder, catching your eyes flicker—just for a second. Her lips curl, slow and knowing.

“Am I doing this right?” she asks, voice drenched in faux innocence. To drive the point home, she arches her back ever so slightly, her sports bra straining against her chest.

You twist your lips. “Lower your stance,” you say, voice flat, unreadable. But when you step in to adjust her form, your hands hovering just over her hips, you don’t miss the sharp inhale she takes, the way her breath catches for half a second before she steadies herself. The heat radiating from her skin, even through the fabric, doesn’t go unnoticed either.

She doesn’t make it easy.

During planks, she shifts her weight, her body trembling just enough to make it obvious. As she lowers herself a fraction more, her cleavage pushes forward, a bead of sweat tracing a slow path down her collarbone.

“This is harder than it looks,” she says, voice breathy, teasing. You catch the flicker of amusement in her eyes, the way she’s barely biting back a smile.

By the time you move to resistance band exercises, she’s fully committed to the game. She stands in front of the mirror, positioned just right so she can watch you watching her.

The band stretches tight around her feet, her thighs flexing with the effort, shoulders rolling back. Her breath comes slow, controlled, her lips parting slightly as she exhales. But it’s the way her gaze flickers—to your mouth, just for a split second—that makes your fingers twitch.

“How’s my form now?” she asks, her voice dipping lower, threading with something suggestive. She already knows the answer.

“Better,” you say, tone even, detached. But the slight clench of your jaw betrays you.

And she sees it.

The workout is over, but the tension lingers—thick, heavy, undeniable.

You're sprawled out on the couch, legs spread, back sinking into the cushions, muscles still burning from exertion. Sweat clings to your skin, cooling in slow, sticky trails. Your breathing is heavy, labored, chest rising and falling in deep, steady pulls. Across the room, Ning isn't much better—her shirt damp, her skin glistening under the low glow.

The only sound, aside from your breathing, is Flo Milli playing low in the background—sharp beats and cocky lyrics.

You watch her. Unapologetically now.

Ning stays stretching on the mat, rolling out her shoulders, arching her back in a way that puts her body on full display—whether it’s for you or just because she knows you’re looking, you can’t be sure. She tilts her head as she leans into a side stretch, her hair sticking to the damp curve of her neck, her breath coming out in slow, steady exhales.

Your fingers tap idly against your thigh. But the pressure between your legs is a different story—half-hard, pressing against the fabric of your shorts, aching just enough to make you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

Ning’s eyes flick toward your lap. And for once, she doesn’t smirk. She just watches back, lips slightly parted, chest still rising and falling with exertion.

“Look at me,” you say, voice low, firm.

She does.

And then—

“Take your top off.”

Ning doesn’t hesitate.

She shifts, languidly, sitting up on her knees on the mat, her hands sliding over her thighs as she straightens. 

Her gaze stays locked on yours as her fingers hook under the hem of her top. She drags the fabric up over her stomach, revealing inch after inch of glistening skin, the defined lines of her full waist, the swell of her tits beneath the tight compression of her bra.

She peels it off in one slow motion, arms raising above her head, back arching slightly as she pulls the damp shirt over her head. The movement makes her chest lift, makes the slick skin of her stomach tighten, and you catch the way her breath shudders as the air rushes over her overheated body.

The shirt drops to the floor.

She sits there, on her knees, looking up at you, her white sports bra dark with sweat, clinging to her like a second skin. The fabric outlines everything—the perky buds, the goosebumps.

Her fingers trail absentmindedly over her thighs, nails scraping lightly over damp skin as she holds your gaze, her chin tilting up just enough to look like a challenge.

Your fingers stop tapping against your thigh.

And then—

"Come here," you say, voice rough, thick with something that coils tight in your stomach.

Ning's lips curve, slow and taunting, but she doesn't move. Not yet. Instead, she shifts her weight forward slightly, tilting her head. "That all?" she asks, voice low, teasing, her eyes flickering down, then back up again, like she's daring you to give her something more.

Your patience is razor-thin.

"Now," you say, sharper this time.

And this time, she listens.

Ning moves.

Slow. Cat-like.

She leans forward, pressing her palms flat against the mat, and starts crawling toward you.

Her hips sway behind her with each measured shift of her body, her back arching slightly, the smooth curve of her waist rolling with every movement. She keeps her eyes on you the entire time—heavy-lidded, dark with intent, burning with something teasing, something so fucking sexy.

That look—it sinks into your skin, into your chest, into the heat pooling low in your stomach. 

Her gaze flickers down for a second—just for a second—to your lap, to where your fingers have already moved between your legs, pressing. She sees it all. The way your hand is pressing against the hard, aching shape of your dick in your shorts. The way your thumb drags along the waistband like you’re debating just how far you’ll let this go.

And fuck, the way she looks at it.

She licks her lips—takes it between her front teeth. Then her lashes flutter as she looks back up at you, her eyes molten, her smirk barely-there but devastating all the same.

You don’t stop.

Your fingers tighten around your cock, your palm pressing down, pleased at the attention. You want her to watch.

She keeps moving.

Every inch she crawls forward, the space between you shrinks, the tension growing thick, charged, a live wire stretched between your bodies. You can feel her heat before she even touches you. The scent of sweat, of skin, of something unmistakably hers, seeping into the space between your knees.

And then she stops.

Right between your legs.

Her hands rest on your thighs, light at first, barely-there touches that only make the burn under your skin worse. She tilts her head, eyes dragging over your face, then down—down to your mouth, down to your hand, down to where your cock is begging for something, anything.

She breathes out, soft, amused.

“So impatient,” she laments, her voice sweet and taunting, her nails dragging the slightest bit over your skin. “Didn’t even wait for me.”

But you don’t miss the way her own breath shudders at the sight, the way her fingers flex against your thighs like she’s trying to stop herself from moving too fast.

Like she’s just as desperate as you are.

Your eyes drag over her, taking in every inch, feeling every emotion—she’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of her body between your legs, her hands still resting lightly on your thighs, fingers tracing barely-there patterns.

You let her sit there for a moment, just looking. Letting the weight of your gaze settle over her.

“Take it off.”

Your voice is low, even, but there’s no mistaking the command.

Ning tilts her head, her smirk deepening, playful and knowing. But she listens.

Her fingers move to the band of her sports bra, gripping the fabric, pulling it up—deliciously slow, enough to tease you. The damp material peels away from her skin, revealing inch by inch, until it drops to the floor beside her.

Your stomach tightens.

She’s so fucking sexy like this – flushed, glistening, every inch of her begging to be touched. Her breasts are perfect, soft and perky, the kind that makes your mouth go dry and your pulse spike. Her nipples are already hard, pebbled from the cool air—or maybe from the way your eyes drag over her, slow and unrelenting. You don’t know. You don’t care. All that matters is the ache in your hands, the hunger curling deep in your gut, the overwhelming need to touch, to taste, to take.

The way she stretches, the way her hands ghost over her tits, teasing pink nipples, knowing exactly what she’s doing. She rolls her shoulders back, letting herself be seen, and you catch the slight rise of her chest as she exhales, the way her thumb and index pinch her own skin, toying, testing.

You let your tongue swipe over your bottom lip, “You like showing off, don’t you?”

Ning moans, dragging her nails down her stomach, slow and absentminded. “You like watching,” she counters, her voice sweet, teasing, but there’s something darker under it now—something just as sharp as the way she looks at you.

And yet—

She looks up at you through her lashes, lips curving. “Do you like me like this?” Her fingers press a little harder against your thighs, a deliberate shift. “A pretty princess like me, sitting on the floor for you?”

She’s high maintenance, that much is clear. A spoiled little thing who knows exactly how much power she holds in a moment like this.

Your breath comes out slow, controlled, but the fabric of your shorts strains against your cock, already hard and throbbing, the tip damp and sensitive where it presses against the material. Every shift of your hips, every breath Ning takes, makes the coil of tension inside your stomach wind tighter, hotter, until it feels like you’re one touch away from snapping.

God, she’s something else.

And you need to take it up a notch. 

You watch her, a smile spreading across your face as you take her in once more. “You want me to like you like this, huh?” you ask, voice thick with amusement. 

You don’t break eye contact as you lean in, “I do love you like this,” you admit, the truth leaving your mouth like a slow burn. “A pretty little thing on your knees, looking up at me like you want to take my dick. Like you’ll do anything for me to fuck you the way you need it.”

Your hand slides from your thigh to grip her chin firmly, tilting her face up to meet yours. You let your thumb trace the curve of her cheek, dragging down to her throat, “But you’re going to have to work for it,” you murmur. “I want to see you begging. See how far you’ll go to make me want you more. If you can do that, then maybe I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Your eyes trail down her form, “Get ready, love. You’re gonna need more than just a pretty face to get me to give in. Touch yourself." Your voice is rough with desire, leaving no room for backtalk as you lean back against the cushions.

Ning’s breath catches, just for a second. She doesn’t move right away—she lets the moment stretch, lets the silence thicken, lets you wait. But then, finally, her fingers start to trail lower, one hand skimming over your lap, and the other continues its trail down her pelvis, teasing herself just as much as she’s teasing you.

Your eyes stay locked on her, dark, but your hands aren’t still either. One slips inside your shorts to grab at your cock, while the other drags under your shirt, up your torso, under your bra, fingers brushing skin before finding your breast. You toy with yourself lazily, rolling a nipple between your fingers, watching the way her gaze flickers—between your hands, your mouth, your eyes.

She’s breathing harder now, her body tense with anticipation, her thighs pressing together like she’s feeling the weight of your stare everywhere at once.

"Show me how you touch yourself thinking of me."

Her lashes flutter, her fingers finally dipping lower, and the moment she touches her pussy over her shorts, the sound that slips past her lips—soft, breathy, wrecked—makes something tighten inside you, sharp and unrelenting.

And still, neither of you look away.

Especially you. Not when her fingers press gently against her shorts, the outline of her pussy unmistakable, the puffy shape of her lips visible beneath the thin material. She rubs herself at a teasing rhythm that makes it clear she knows exactly how much it’s affecting you.

She keeps her touch light at first—  the fabric clings to her, dampening with each press of her fingers, and you watch as she traces the seam of her shorts, feeling the way the pressure makes her hips shift, seeking something—more, more of her fingers. And more of your dick.

Her breath hitches, a soft sound that carries through the room, and her touch grows more urgent, her fingers pressing harder, making circles over her clit through the fabric. The shallow, uneven rhythm of her breath fills the space between you, and you don’t miss the tremor that runs through her thighs, or the subtle arch of her back as she grinds against her own hand, pushing for more friction, more sensation.

“Like this?” Her voice is quieter, breathless, teasing, but with an edge. It’s charged, heavy, and you can feel the way her gaze locks with yours, so hungry. It’s a question, yes—but it’s also an invitation.

You make a low sound of approval, a soft hum that vibrates in your chest, before your hand pats your lap, the gesture clear. And Ning doesn’t hesitate. She settles onto your lap, her body fitting against yours in all the right fucking ways. You feel the heat of her skin, the warmth of her pussy pressing against you even through the barrier of clothing, and it’s enough to make your cock throb, already hard and leaking against the fabric of your shorts.

She feels it too—the way it presses deeper, pulsing, the shape firm and insistent even through the thin barrier of fabric. Each shift, each subtle movement, each brush of the fat head pressing against her.

The music changes. The sound is light, playful, but charged with an energy that mirrors the way you’re both moving. Ning giggles, something light and teasing as she shifts, her hands traveling over your shoulders, fingers lingering at the nape of your neck. She leans in, brushing her lips close to your ear.

“That’s my song,” she whispers. 

You feel the heat of her words settle between you, but there’s a different kind of heat now—the kind you can feel all over, the way her pussy starts sliding over your cock, the friction just enough to make your hips jerk forward instinctively.

“Let’s fuck to it.” Your voice is quieter, and without hesitation, you press your hips closer to hers. It’s a slow burn, a pressure building, each movement of her hips grinding against you sending shockwaves through your body.

“Let’s record it.” You feel her shift again, grinding just a little harder, her body rocking with the beat of the song. Each movement makes your cock strain against the fabric of your shorts—it feels like too much and not enough all at once, every inch of her body pressing against you, her warmth seeping through the thin material. Your cock is leaking at this point, the tip slick and sensitive where it presses against her clit.


Your hands slide down her sides, fingers digging into the curve of her hips as she grinds against you. She’s driving you absolutely wild. The heat is unbearable, but you’re not done teasing her yet.

One hand slips lower, fingers tracing the curve of her ass before you bring your palm down in a sharp, stinging slap, skin on skin. The sound echoes, and Ning gasps, her body jerking forward against yours.

"Mmm," she exhales, her voice unsteady yet laced with something playful. A slow smile tugs at her lips, and her eyes gleam with mischief as she gazes down at you. 

You smirk, your hand lingering on the warm, reddening skin. “You’d like that,” your voice low and rough, “seeing how I’d fuck you senseless to your songs? Watching yourself bounce on my dick while your own music plays in the background?”

Ning laughs, a soft, breathy sound. She shifts her weight, grinding harder against you, her hips rolling in a way that makes your cock throb. “Wouldn’t you?” she teases, her voice dripping with playful arrogance. “This ass was made to be seen over, and over again.”

“Damn right,” you agree, your fingers digging into her flesh as you pull her closer, your lips brushing against her ear. “And this ass?” You give her another slap, harder. “This ass is fucking. perfect.” 

She moans back, high and needy, and you feel her body tremble against yours. Her fingers tighten around your shoulders, nails pressing into your skin as your hands glide over her waist, fingers curving possessively around her sides. With a firm pull, you guide her hips back—against your hard bulge. 

Ning’s breath catches, a sharp inhale before she tosses her hair over her shoulder. Then, without hesitation, she leans in, lips grazing your neck before sucking softly at your pulse. Her tongue flicks out, tracing a slow, heated path from the base of your throat to your ear, the sensation sending an army of goosebumps all over your spine. And just as the warmth of her breath ghosts over your skin, she moves—hips rolling forward, grinding the cleft of her pussy lips right on the outline of your cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” you reply, your voice steady despite the fire burning inside you. 

“Mmm,” she keens, her voice barely above a whisper. “Imagine what else I can do with my mouth.”

You grin, and your hand slides around to her front, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts, and she gasps so prettily, her hips bucking against your touch. Your fingers tease and tease her fold through skimpy fabric – and damn, is that a thong? – feeling how wet her pussy is. “You’re making me want to skip all that,” you say, your voice thick with desire to fuck her already. “Skip all of it and fuck you right away.”

Ning’s breath crumbles into stuttered gasps, her eyes locking with yours as she grinds against your hand, and you deliberately slide in one knuckle … then the next, the juices of her arousal giving you easy entrance despite the very tight clench of her inner walls. You can feel them fluttering, soft flesh enveloping your finger and almost sucking it in while she keeps at moaning and grinding. 

Your eyes drop to her tits, the sight of her pert nipples, so hard and begging for attention. You don’t hesitate—you lean in, capturing one nipple between your lips, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. The sharp gasp that escapes her lips is music to your ears, and you feel her body arch into you, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer.

This close you can taste the salt on her skin, feel the way her breath hitches, the way her hips grind against yours. She bites her lip, a high-pitched moan slipping past her clenched teeth as you switch to her other nipple, giving it the same attention. Her back arches, her body trembling under your touch, and you can’t resist the urge to slap her ass again, hard.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as her nails dig into your shoulders, her hips rocking against you, desperate for more friction, more of you. “Don’t stop,” she breathes, her words barely coherent, her body writhing under your hands and mouth.

You pull back just enough to look up at her, your lips glistening, her nipples red and swollen from your attention. Your hand keeps sliding over her cunt and the other still grips her ass, squeezing hard. “You like it when I take what I want?”

She nods, her eyes dark with need, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling, her body pressing into yours, begging for more. “Don’t stop.”

You smirk, your hand coming down on her ass again, the sharp sting making her cry out, her body jerking against yours.

“Oh, God…” Ning says, her voice trembling. She lifts herself slightly, just enough to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts. The elastic drags against your skin as you help her ease them down, before your cock finally snaps free. Her gaze lowers, drawn between your bodies, her lips parting slightly as she takes in the sight of you— dick resting thick and heavy against the flat plane of her stomach, the contrast making her breath hitch.

The hand that had been teasing her pussy, slick with her wetness, moves to grip your cock, the warmth of her arousal coating your skin as you tap the tip against her stomach. Both of your fluid smear across her skin as you tease her. 

“Think you can handle it?” you ask, cockily, your grip tightening slightly as you drag the head of your cock across her skin. The question hangs in the air, as you watch her reaction, your thumb brushing over the sensitive tip, smearing a bead of pre-cum.

Ning bites her lip, her eyes dark with mischief as she brings her thumb to your lips, pressing it gently against them. Her touch is soft, her nail sliding against your lower lip and before you can react, she pushes your hand away from your cock, her fingers wrapping around you instead. Her grip is firm, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head, and it’s your turn to curse, your hips jerking instinctively.

“I’ve seen bigger,” she says, her voice teasing, her lips curving into a smirk as she looks up at you. Right … It makes you laugh, a light, rumbling sound that vibrates through your chest, but the way her hand moves on you quickly sobers you up.

Thick beads of precum meet her fingers as she delves right up to the head, her soft fingertips massaging your aching gland, rubbing the slit with a precision that makes your breath hitch. You sigh, your hand gripping the flesh of her ass, fingers digging into her skin as she works you with practiced ease. Ning moans softly, her thumb brushing light, curved paths under the very tip of your cock, the sensation sending a shudder through the root of you and pushing up a fresh gush of precum—right onto her waiting hand.

She circles your slit, slowly, before starting a slide up and down your length, her palm slicked with your precum. The wet, sticky sound of her hand moving on you fills the room, mingling with the soft, breathy noises escaping your lips. Her eyes never leave yours, her gaze heavy with intent.

“But I bet,” she murmurs, her voice a sultry whisper, thick with mischief. Her thumb pressing against the sensitive underside of your cock, “you’ve never had this kind of pussy in your life.”


Ning’s words hang in the air, but instead of responding, you decide to take matters into your own hands. In one swift, decisive motion, you flip her onto her stomach, throwing her face down onto the couch. Her surprised gasp is muffled by the cushions, but it quickly turns into a laugh—soft, breathy, and dripping with amusement.

“Let’s put it to the test,” you say, your voice low and rough, your hands gripping her hips as you position yourself behind her.

Ning doesn’t resist. Instead, she arches her back, presenting herself to you. Turning her head just enough to catch your gaze, her lips curve to the side, amusement dancing in her gaze. “Mmm, I hit a nerve?” she purrs, her voice lilting, teasing, as she gives the smallest sway of her hips—just enough to taunt, just enough to push you further.

You don’t answer. She titters once again.

You tug your shirt off in one sharp motion, leaving you in just your bra, the cool air brushing against your heated skin. Your hands move to her shorts, fingers hooking into the waistband and yanking them down the round of her ass. The sight that greets you makes your breath catch—a black thong, barely there, framing her ass perfectly. The fabric clings to her, accentuating the curve of her back dips into the rise of her ass, still red from the marks of your palm. The muscles there are taut but soft, the kind that begs to be touched.

“Jesus.” You mutter, marvelling next at the faint stretch marks that curve along the sides of her hips, subtle and easy to miss. 

Ning glances back at you again, her smirk widening. “Like what you see?” she asks, her hips swaying again – she knows too well what it’s doing to you.

Her breathing hitches when your hand settles on her ass, the warmth of your palm so much better than the with the cool air against her skin. You tug the thong aside, the fabric sliding against her slick folds with a soft, wet noise that makes you shiver. 

Her pussy is a work of art, glistening and swollen, the kind of pretty that makes your mouth water and your cock aches. The lips are full and puffy, a delicate shade of pink that deepens to a flushed red where her arousal pools. The folds are soft, almost velvety, parting slightly, begging for you, the wetness coating her thighs and glistening under the light. Her clit peeks out from its hood, swollen and sensitive, a tiny bead of desire that seems to pulse with every shaky breath she takes. 

It’s so perfect, so hers. You want to ruin it in the best way possible.

A firm push of your thumb, and she stretches open, taking your digit with a low, raspy gasp that almost breaks into a moan. Her eyes flutter shut, her face flushing hot as she tries to steady her breathing, but it’s just not possible with the way your thumb plunges deep, exploring her slowly, dragging out with accurate precision.

And when your thumb slides free, she lets out a faint, protesting whine, but you don’t give her a chance to recover. Instead, you bring your hand down in sharp, stinging smacks—one after the other—each one landing on a different cheek with a satisfying crack, the sound mingling with her breathy cries.

By the time you’re done, she’s reduced to a trembling, sobbing cry-baby, her body arching into your touch even as she tries to catch her breath. You don’t let up. Leaning forward, you press your hips heavily against her ass, your cock grinding against her slick mound from beneath. The friction is delicious, the heat of her body searing against yours as you rock against her, light veins rough grinding against her clit.

“You want this dick? Hmm?” you tease, sliding your cock across her slick entrance, the tip catching on her soft, trembling lips. You can feel her warmth, the way her body quivers in anticipation, and it’s almost too much to resist. Ning tenses, her breath hitching as she fights to hold herself together, but her body betrays her. Her pussy is greedy, desperate, and even the slightest pressure has the head of your cock sinking in, her wetness making it impossible to resist. She gasps, a sharp, broken sound, and you can’t help but smirk. That’s how wet she is—how much she wants you…

She can barely speak, much less think on her own.

She wants you. She wants you. She wants you so badly. So blindly, bad!

She’s barely coherent, her mind a blank slate as she arches beneath you, blindly reaching out, her fingers clawing at the air as if she could pull you closer. Her heart pounds in her ears, a frantic rhythm that matches the way her body trembles. A desperate, whimpering sound escapes her lips, and you know she’s lost in this moment, consumed by the need for you. Everything else has faded away—there’s only you, only this. 

A deep, pulsing ache coils inside her, an unbearable emptiness that leaves her trembling with need. It’s maddening—the way she craves you, the way her body betrays her with every shallow breath, every instinctive movement. She’s drunk on anticipation, on the slow, torturous build of what’s to come, until she can’t help but press back, rolling her hips in search of more.

And then—relief, sharp and so good. The head slips fully inside, stretching her open, and a strangled cry spills from her lips. Her walls grip you instinctively, clinging tight, as if trying to hold you there, refusing to let you go.

The sensation is dizzying, your teeth sinking into your lip hard enough to taste copper, the world narrowing to nothing but the slick, suffocating heat of her cunt.

“Hmm, fuck,” you breathe out, a laugh tumbling from your lips—breathless, almost delirious. Slowly, you pull back, just enough to make her feel the loss, before sinking in again. Her walls yield effortlessly, wrapping around you, in a scorching, velvet embrace that pulses and grips, the sensation so intense it sends a shudder down your spine to your toes. You shift, angling your hips just right, upwards, and the effect is immediate—another broken moan spills from her lips, her back arching as pleasure rips through her.

"Aah—slow down, s-slow d—" she stammers, her voice barely a whisper beneath the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

But you’re not feeling generous. Leaning in, your fingers tangle into her hair, tightening at the roots as you pull her head back, forcing her to meet your gaze.

” But you’ve had bigger?" you murmur against her ear, voice dark and edged with something primal. To punctuate your words, you thrust deep, savoring the way her body reacts—how she clenches around you, how her eyes squeeze shut as she cries out your name like a prayer. And Ning just takes it like a champ, her hole suckling at the base of your cock like a good cunt. Like a good whore. “Hmm? Answer me.”

And to drive the point home, you quicken your pace, each snap of your hips merciless, relentless. Her cries grow louder, more urgent, every stroke pushing her closer to the edge. Your grip in her hair tightens as you lean in, voice rough and demanding—

"Answer."

“No,” she gasps, her voice cracking, barely holding together as she struggles to form words. "Hmm—fuck, no, I lied," She reaches back, fingers grasping at you in a desperate attempt to slow you down, but you catch her wrist with ease, pinning it behind her back. A quiet, defeated whimper escapes her, but it only fuels you.

Your other hand grips the soft curve of her ass, fingers digging into heated skin before you drag her back onto you with a sharp, punishing thrust. She screams—high, broken, the sound raw with pleasure and something dangerously close to surrender.

The room is filled with it—the sharp slap of skin meeting skin, the ragged sobs that spill from her lips, the wet, obscene sounds of her taking every inch of you. Your moans. You don’t let up. You can’t. You drive into her harder, deeper, until her toes curl and her entire body quakes beneath you, pleasure teetering on the edge of something unbearably exquisite.

She’s a mess beneath you—shaking, breathless, her thighs trembling, her ass flushed and hot beneath your grip. And you can’t get enough. Not of the way she clings to you, not of the way she tightens around you like she could die if you let her go, like she’s trying to milk every drop from you.

And she really didn’t lie. It’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. 

The distant thrum of music plays in the background, muffled and insignificant against the raw sounds of her pleasure—ragged breaths, gasping moans, the soft, wet suck of your cock inside of her.

You press her into the couch, your weight a delicious burden, pinning her beneath you as you drive into her with ruthless precision. Every thrust forces a choked cry from her lips, her body arching instinctively, desperate to take you deeper as she starts pleading to keep going.

But you don’t.

Slowly, you withdraw, savoring the way her walls clutch at you, slick and trembling, reluctant to let you leave. The sight of her—stretched, quivering, her body begging for more—sends a dark pulse of satisfaction through you.

And then, just as her fingers tighten in protest, you feed her the tip of your cock, slowly fucking into her. The drag is delicious. 

“Oh, look at that." your grip tightens around the back of her neck, pressing her deeper into the cushions as you claim her. The strain burns through your arms and thighs, but you don’t stop. There’s no stopping this. Your hips drive forward with relentless force, each thrust sending shockwaves through her body. "You're so fucking pretty when you're screaming my name, Ning."

Those moans, broken and breathless, feed the fire curling low in your spine. You're close—so fucking close.

For a moment, you pause, chest heaving, grounding yourself in the sight of her beneath you. But Ning isn’t having it. She pushes back onto you, hips rolling in desperation, her body greedy for more. Her moans come in shattered gasps, trembling with need and you can’t help but groan at the sight of her ass bouncing against your hips, her pussy dripping with every thrust. 

“Hmm, you’re so big,” she whimpers, cries, voice raw, breath hitching as she arches her back, taking you deeper. “Oh, fuck!” 

Your gaze is heavy, hooded, as you watch yourself disappear into her, each lsnguid thrust mesmerizing. The sight of her—sprawled out, pussy taking you so greedily—sends a thrill curling through you.

She rolls her hips on the next drag, making her ass jiggle, thighs slapping against your skin as she forces you deeper, desperate, insatiable. It’s like she’s been starving for this, for you, ever since she first laid eyes on you.

A low, guttural moan tears from your throat as you pull back before slamming into her again, harder, faster. The pace turns frantic, all restraint shattering. Ning’s cries pitch higher, her body bowing against the force of your thrusts. Her thighs shake, her ass reddened beneath your grip, and she can feel herself dripping, her pussy throbbing with an imminent release. She’s dripping, throbbing, falling apart beneath you, and when she whimpers your name, voice ragged and desperate, it nearly undoes you.

She’s screaming now, her body writhing beneath you as you fuck her through her orgasm, fucking her like she’s nothing more than a whore, your hands sliding down from her waist, pressing two fingers to her engorged clit, and she can’t even scream, her pussy clenches around you as she comes, her body shaking with the force of it.  You’re right behind, gripping her tightly as you pulse inside her and fill her with your release, the sensation so intense it leaves you breathless.

[azzifuddfanpage]

All I want for Christmas is You

Thanks for the prompt 😛 2.1k words

themes: Christmas? Idk

tw: smut

prompt: This is around now/ them being in a relationship. The wholes team is kinda sulky and grey after losing USC even thought it’s almost Christmas. They are all just chilling in the dorms, playing video games, chatting, and packing up for the break. Azzi decides to surprise Paige with an earlier Christmas gift. She calls her over and reveals her festive lingerie. Paige is obviously gooning and immediately shuts the door. (go all out with the scene I didn’t have any l ideas 💀)After a while they realize they went a little crazy and are defiantly gonna have to wash themselves up… and the sheets. “Paige why are you cleaning the sheets right before your leaving for home?”- a teammate asks.        -😛

The entire media conference after the game was brutal. Paige sat there and was professional but wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in Azzi’s arms. 

After 3 years of dating, they had been closer than ever. Azzi was the only one who knew how to make her feel better-way better- after a loss. 

When they were back in the dorms, everyone was just chilling in the living room of the suite. 

Paige sat with Ice and Kk playing fortnite trying to get her mind off of the loss.

Paige was one to take the loss personally so she would do everything she could to get her mind off of it.

“Hey do you know where Azzi is?” Paige asked as she went for another kill. 

“She’s still with the trainer.” Ice replied shortly as she continued fiddling with the remote. Distracted, paige handed off the remote to sarah who happily took over for her.

Paige missed Azzi, bad, the longer they had been dating the more needy Paige had found herself for her. 

Paige slumped onto the couch behind them facing Azzi’s bedroom door, and pulled out her phone. 

—-

Me: wya I miss u😕

💗: I’m at the trainer I’ll be home soon Paigey 

Me: 😐

💗: it will be worth the wait trust me I have a surprise for u 

Ur gonna like it a lot trust me….

—-

It looked like the day was gonna be looking up.

30 minutes later, the front door opened and Paige immediately whipped her head around to make eyes with Azzi. 

Paige immediately stood up and ran to Azzi wrapping her arms around her waist tightly and snuggling into the crook of her neck. 

“Missed you so much baby.” She said as she breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo and vanilla perfume. 

Paige looked down and saw Azzi was carrying a black and pink bag. Her eyes perked up. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Paige whispered teasingly while attaching her lips to Azzi’s neck making her giggle. 

“Maybe… but you’re gonna have to wait a few minutes so I can get your present all set up.” Azzi responded moving her hand up to play with paige’s blonde hair that had fallen into her face as she clung to her. 

“Present? What for?” Paige said eagerly trying to snoop in the bag.

“Paige! Be patient, no peaking. It’s just an early Christmas gift. Just stay here and I will call you in when I’m ready.” Azzi replied pulling away from paige and walking to the bedroom. 

Paige smirked and walked over to the couch as she watched Azzi walk into the bedroom. 

Paige spread her legs a little as Azzi turned around watching as Azzi blushed her eyes darting to her clothed center. 

Azzi then put a finger to her lips and disappeared into her bedroom.

Paige felt her panties dampen in anticipation on what Azzi had planned for her. 

The longer Azzi took the more needy she became.

10 long minutes later she heard Azzi call out.

“Paige can you come help me in here?” Paige bolted up and brusquely but nonchalantly (or so she thought) to Azzi’s room.

“Fuck guess I need to grab my headphone” ice said laughing as Paige shut Azzi’s door behind her. They weren’t exactly quiet.

Inside Azzi’s room paige walked in to the bed and felt two hands creep around the back of her head covering her eyes. 

“Guess who” Azzi smirked behind her

“Hmmm I don’t know Q?” Paige said teasingly. 

“Alright you’re not getting your present after that one.” Azzi laughed as paige hungrily turned around. 

“Where is it?” Paige said as she looked at Azzi who was wearing her pink fluffy robe. 

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” Azzi said dominantly giving her a shove so she would fall backwards.

Paige crawled up to the headboard and turned around so she was facing Azzi watching her in awe.

Azzi slowly reached for the tie of her robe and began to undo the knot.

Paige felt her breath hitch as she watched the pink fluffy robe slide down Azzi’s shoulders and drop onto the floor.

Paiges eyes scanned Azzi’s body in adoration.

She was weary a silver and red lingerie set that was lacy and completely mesh. 

Paige thought her eyes were going to bulge out of her head at the sight of Azzi’s perky nipples poking through the thin shear fabric. 

Suddenly paige found herself extremely needy for Azzi’s touch.

“You’re so beautiful Azzi.” Paige said her eyes continuing to stare at her body.

Azzi smirked as she climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Paige.

Azzi pushes her shoulders so she is now fully laying on her back on the bed.

Azzi sits up staring down on her, straddling her legs.

She leans forward and starts to press soft kisses along her jaw and neck.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” Azzi says in between kisses as Paige lets out a soft sigh. 

Azzi moves her hands downwards, lips still connected to Paige’s neck, and tugs on her t shirt.

Paige puts her hands up instinctively and Azzi slides it off her, immediately coming in contact with her soft nipples hardening under Azzi’s gaze.

“Wow no bra? Someone was ready for this, huh?” Azzi laughs as she connects her hands and begins to massage Paige’s chest. 

“Wanted to be ready for your surprise.” Paige whispers eagerly as she pulls Azzi’s face in to kiss her.

Paige’s hunger for Azzi’s skin is almost bubbling as she runs her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip. She attaches her teeth and pulls watching Azzi lean towards her needily, letting out a breathy moan. 

Azzi starts to grind her hips against Paige’s pelvis begging for friction. 

Azzi leans back placing her hand on Paiges thighs as she arches her back and grinds down on Paige’s thighs.

A groan leaves paige’s mouth as she searches desperately for more contact.

She opens her eyes and watches in aw as Azzi gently grinds back and forth on her. 

“Please.” Paige moans noticing the damp spot on Azzi’s panties. 

“You need more baby?” Azzi says seductively as she begins to slide down paige’s pants continuing to ride her.

Paige lets out a yelp, biting her lip as Azzi presses her knee against paige’s clit. 

“Oh god.” Paige groans as she throws her head back.

Azzi leans forward laying her chest on Paige as she continues to apply pressure on her pussy. 

She starts to press kisses against her tits, sucking on her nipples and blowing as she starts to feel the slick accumulate in between them. 

Paige moans loudly against Azzi’s chest.

“Shh! Paige you have to be quiet we don’t need anymore complaints.” Azzi teases as paige rolls her eyes.

“Haha very funny, if I remember right it was your screaming that had caroline running in thinking you were dying.” Paige replies still out of breath. Azzi returns the eyeroll and presses her hand against paige’s mouth to shut her up.

Paige spreads her legs wider giving Azzi more access to grind against her. 

After what felt like hours of Azzi’s rubbing against her clit paige could barely keep herself together.

“Azzi please” she groaned “need to cum please.”

Azzi giggled to herself at her girlfriend’s fucked out state. 

“Look at me baby.” Azzi said dominantly “I want you to watch me while you cum.” 

Paiges eyes immediately popped open entranced by Azzi staring directly back at her. 

Azzi’s eyes alone were enough to make her cum, and when Azzi started picking up the pace, rubbing herself against paige more aggressively, paige could no longer contain her cum, letting her juices spill out of her and onto the bed sheets as she moaned.

As Azzi continued to grind against her, riding out her high, paige began to rub her fingers teasingly over her panties watching as Azzi’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, already stimulated by her grinding against paige. 

Paige watched Azzi intently focused on Azzi’s body.

As paige began to apply more pressure Azzi lifted her hips now hovering over paige’s stomach kneeling so her legs were seperated enough for paige to access her clit.

Azzi let out a raspy moan, and Paige pulled her panties to the side desperately needing to be in contact with her wetness.

Azzi’s warm heat coated her fingers as she rubbed back and forth against her pussy. 

Azzi leaned over to stabilize herself as Paige stuffed two fingers inside her tight hole. 

Paige began to thrust in and out of her stabilizing her by holding onto her waist. 

As she felt Azzi’s legs shake she flipped them over so she was now on top. 

With her new angle she pounded furiously into Azzi’s pussy, using her thumb to rub at her clit. 

Azzi continued to moan loudly pulling at paige’s hair, thrusting her hips so paige’s fingers would dig deeper in her core.

Paiges fingers plunging into her gummy walls caused Azzi to shake with pleasure. 

Hearing Azzi’s frustrated moans as she tried to rub herself against paige’s fingers.

Paige paused, watching as Azzi whimpered and squirmed deserpeate for her fingers to restart their pounding. 

Azzi started trying to fuck herself on Paige’s fingers, desperate to reach her climax.

Just as Azzi let out another needy moan, paige plunged another finger in, pounding 3 in and out of her.

Paige uses her other hand to rub her clit, before pressing gently on her lower stomach.

With that Azzi feels the band in her stomach snap, and feels her cum spill out of her joining paige’s on the sheets

They go back and forth pleasing each other until they are just a heap of moans unable to catch their breath.

The sheets are soaked with sweat and their cum.

“Guess we may have over done it.” Azzi laughed her head laying in the sheets. 

“Nahh don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige replied cheekily. 

They lay there nuzzled together for a little longer but eventually Azzi could no longer stand it.

“Alright I gotta shower and you have got to wash these sheets like this is just embarrassing I feel like I wet the bed.” Azzi huffed trying to sit up with Paige’s lengthy body weighing her down. 

“I mean you kinda did.” Paige said trying to hide her giggle as Azzi glared at her and hitting her over the head with a pillow.

“Says you!” She shot back as she crawled out of paige’s grasp and stood up.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning early, if you don’t wash the sheets now they will be worse when we get back.” Azzi said as paige fell back onto the bed.

“Ughhhh” she whined, “I know I know I have to clean them. But I literally just did like 2 days ago… “ paige whined as she sat back up and grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“I don’t like when you shower without me.” Paige pouted fluttering her eyelashes teasingly. 

Azzi shoved her face with her hand laughing, “you’re such a freak paige oh my god.” She pauses for a minute. “If you go clean the sheets we will see what happens.” Azzi says shrugging leaving the room so paige can ponder that. 

Paige makes the executive decision it would be a good idea to see where things that night might lead with Azzi so she strips the bed and makes a pile to bring to the laundry.

Paige is fantasizeing about all the things Azzi might have planned since she is being a “good girl” and cleaning the sheets like Azzi asked her, when she hears a knock. 

“Back so soon” Paige teases assuming Azzi couldn’t resist her… it was Aubrey. 

“Uhm sorry, not who you were hoping, I just had a quick-“ Aubrey looks down at paige piling her sheets into her hamper, “you know what I’m gonna just ask Ice it’s fine.” She trials off. “Why are you washing your sheets paige?” She teases knowing exactly what it means. 

“What do you mean? I can’t wash my sheets now?” Paige replied confused. 

“You just changed them like two days ago? And we are leaving for vacation it’s not like you will be sleeping on them anytime soon.” 

Paige smirked, “well they got dirty quick I guess.” 

Aubrey stares at her a little confused then Azzi walks in the room and the pieces click.

Her eyes widen, “y’all are nasty” Aubrey says laughing running out of the room, likely to go tell Ice and Kk.

Azzi looks at Paige confused. 

“What did I do?” Azzi says softly her big eyes staring at Paige, and paige can’t help but melt under her adorable eyes. 

“She’s just jealous baby don’t worry.” paige says pulling her into a hug and rubbing her hand on her back. 

[wosoragebaiter69]

recovery takes time

part 2 of ‘you are broken on the floor’

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

request: here

A/N: reminder that i’m a writer and not a med student so idk what times are like for this..

also since y’all wanted me to ask more questions.. if you’ve experienced anything paranormal lmk because i’m interested in that stuff and experienced stuff myself so 🤷

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

The first few weeks of recovery are the worst, you can’t do anything at all. Even walking is a challenge, how would you ever go back to where you were?

Alexia was always by your side though, helping wherever she could considering you weren’t allowed to lift anything. The concussion went away as expected and now was just a long journey of recovery ahead.

“You and I both know you’ll be back out on the soon, give yourself time. Recovery isn’t a quick process, remember what you told me when I did my ACL.” She’d say things similar to that, and for a while you’d believe her until you saw what the media kept saying.

As much as it affected your mental health, it only made you want to come back stronger and be better, to prove the critics wrong. To show the world who you were and that you were staying.

- - - - -

After 10 weeks, you could do regular tasks again. It did tire you out but it gave you strength and the feeling you had control over something. It’s something you so desperately needed, outside of Alexia of course.

You started to head back to the training grounds for meetings with physios and trainers who were doing their best to assess where to start when lifting weights and doing other flexible motions with your arms and chest that isn’t too harsh.

While it still isn’t much, it’s still something. That’s all that matters.

- - - - -

When you were first cleared to lift 5kg, Alexia was there. She always was when you had more progress in getting closer to the pitch. She was your number 1 supporter and it really encouraged you to be better.

When you could fully stretch your arms without pain or feeling uncomfortable, she was there.

When you could go back to lifting regular weights in gym sessions, she’d watch you while feeling immense pride at how far you’d come.

When you were kicked balls to for the first time again, she watched and congratulated every ball you saved.

She’s your knight in shining armour.

- - - - -

The day of your first game, a year of recovery behind you. You were finally starting for your club again. You stand tall behind your girlfriend who sports the armband.

Ever since it was announced you were in training and back in the squad, the media had been relentless. Asking too many questions. Wondering too many things.

You had one job tonight, and that was to show the world who you were. Who you are. Who you will be.

You walk out, fans yelling and cheering as the Barça anthem plays in the background. You missed this so bad.

- - - - -

The game was tough, some shots on you but you managed to keep a clean sheet. Alexia smiling and crowd roaring at you as you did so.

When the final whistle blows, Ale runs to you first pulling you into a crushing hug.

“Mi amor, you did so well.” She wraps her arms around your waist and kisses your neck.

“Thanks Ale, couldn’t have done it without you.” You reply, hands brushing up and down her back.

No matter what happened in life, you’d always want to do it with Alexia. Only Alexia.

—————————————————————————

i’m gonna close my requests for the time being so i can get through my 7 other works 🙏

[hxltic]

Im not sure how to request cause this is like my first time doing it but would u write anything w iwazumis timeskip? like how hes an athletic trainer.. YK DO UR MAGIC idek how to request also x reader if thats ok. THANK U

Hey ofc!! You can be as vulgar and straightforward as you want, this is a safe space😘 (idk if you wanted nsfw or not so if not I’m sorry! I just made it suggestive because I was unsure :P)

The ass crack of dawn peeks through your window, enough to have your body twisting and turning until you’re inevitably forced awake.

Of course you drag yourself to the bathroom and check yourself out a bit, admiring how your new waist training is going and your puffy lips of the morning before brushing your teeth to start the day. Some argue you’re a morning person, but you aren’t. And you feel no kind of guilt admitting that.

You only get up because you have to—to remain consistent, especially with allowing yourself to grow not only physically, but emotionally, finally feeling free from the weights of stress by exercising and feeling good about your figure.

Also, the routine is great for you. It makes you feel productive in the morning, so now when you reflect before, there was this emptiness that came with sitting at home with the same three things you have to do on repeat.

And then of course, the motivation of going to the gym for a man you’ve been seeing around recently. He recognizes you now, probably casually assuming the relationship is nothing more than a mutual gym buddy.

And it’s likewise; you wouldn’t call it a crush. The both of you are grown, just two adults with the same hobby even though you are relatively newer to the activity.

So you pack up your bag and tip your head back for a swig of the protein smoothie you prepared and head out the door.

The gym doesn’t smell anything like how you imagined it would when you first cluelessly walked in. It actually smells clean (mainly from the overwhelming scent of chlorine in the pool water), and it wasn’t super busy around this time. If there were people, they definitely weren’t teenagers coming for their afternoon rounds. The receptionist waves back at you as you pass.

Today was legs. You recognize how far you’ve come, because initially, no day was your favorite, each as long and tortuous as the last. But this has got to be what it means to become accustomed to the pain. Does that make all gym-goers masochists?

If so, Iwaizumi has got to be the worst, because the only other person insane enough—that even remotely looks like he does anything other than train—to be here before you, is him.

“Morning,” you chime. His headphones are off, so the switch that usually tells you when people don’t wish to be spoken to doesn’t go off.

To your delight, he responds with just as much pleasure without turning around, currently sitting on the Lax machine and tugging the resistant handles. “Good morning,” he grunts.

He eventually does, even as he attempts to convince himself to stay focused on his set, but even the discipline he’s built over the years couldn’t prevent him from catching a glimpse of you. You were sitting your stuff down nearby, relocating to the floor to stretch.

He’s been watching you. Not in a creepy way, he justifies, but it becomes a habit when you’re working how he does.

Your progress is a miracle. He could count on one hand the amount of people that come in fresh and immediately get to working, just to return consistently, and cycle through this process until they reach their desired figure and continue after that. You, however, stepped in with a determination on your face he’d never seen before.

You hadn’t requested a trainer, and by what he sees, didn’t need one either. He remembers when you came in talking about how badly you wanted to rid of your little tummy, as well as slim down your plush thighs, pleading someone to teach you how. Of course he knew how; he keeps his work strictly professional with the women who come in asking for the same thing.

He’d always found the little pudge attractive, but it’s your body. It’s just somehow, he wasn’t on the verge of telling them how good it looks or the pure desire he has to press on the fat while his head is between their thighs like he was you. Someone must have heard his prayers though, because instead of slimming your legs down, you became comfortable with the idea of them getting stronger, ultimately making them slightly thicker.

The man was close to finishing the set, but that one glimpse of you had him do five extra for good measure since he lost count. How could he focus?

As you split your legs and tilt to one side, you watch him not too far. The black compression shirt he wears hugs his carved body perfectly, only cementing this fact as his back and arm muscles flex with every controlled pull of the bar. Everything about him was sharp from his shape to the hair on his head.

It was no doubt he was attractive, and since having graduated high school, attention wasn’t just found anywhere. Maybe some small talk will help?

“What are you doing today?” He hears you call. He almost flinches with what he thinks you’re asking until you add, “Workouts I mean.”

Iwaizumi chuckles at your mishap, more for himself, but it flushes your cheeks nonetheless. It’s a genuine, gentle sound. “Arms. Tomorrow is core,” he says coolly.

“I hate arms. I should probably do them more often, but lifting is only fun if you’re already strong.”

“I see where you’re coming from,” he pulls off the machine, rotating himself on the seat to face you. You’re in a lunge now, oversized t-shirt covering half of the skin tight shorts desperately trying to contain the glutes you’ve grown. He makes sure to force his emerald green eyes to yours. “You won’t get stronger if you don’t give it a try.”

You scoff, “You sound like my old therapist.”

The humor you two shared was nothing more than the surface level awkward kind so this unexpected comment from you had him laughing. Actually laughing. “And you sound like an old friend of mine.”

Smiling at this, you get one more good stretch in and come to your feet. You stand proudly with your hands on your hips, staring at him.

He blinks around happily, “What?”

“You said to give it a try right? Show me the way."

—•—

“I can’t do this,” you say, already struggling just with the form part of the exercise. You switched positions with him since it was closest machine. “How do I pull it if I can’t move my back?”

“Well, that’s the workout part,” he walks around the seat while inspecting you, waiting for you to figure it out with his advice. “Sit up completely straight and slightly lean back. Stay in that position the entire time, but try to pull the bar down to you instead of pulling yourself up to it.”

You try to replicate what you saw him doing. By this point, you had gotten majority of the positioning right, even keeping your back straight, but the damned bar wouldn’t move an inch. “Are you sure the setting on this thing is right?”

“Oh shit—” He pauses at this, then renders that you’re completely right. You’re trying to pull his weight.

As he shuffles over to the side of the machine to adjust it, you watch him with a smug expression and your arms crossed. I’m not just that weak, I knew it, it reads.

Moments later he comes back around, “That’s my bad, try it now.”

And you’re finally able to do it, but your form falters when you successfully pull the bar to your chest. He knows you know, you’re a smart girl, so he gives you a few more tries to correct it. “I feel like I’m about to fall,” you say finally.

“Here, that means you’re leaning too far.” He comes and presses a hand to your back, pushing you forward. “Don’t think about it too much. I’ll hold you right here for a few until you can support yourself.”

He was already hovering beside you, lurking and seeping into all your senses, making the air warmer than it usually is in the gym. With his palm on your back too, you’re starting to think this little affection of yours is getting out of hand. You don’t even look to see how much it has helped.

Somehow, you do eventually get through the sets, but you hadn’t realized that during that time he would actually train you. It was progressive overload, and he brought the weight up to what he thought you could handle each time. You were on the last few.

“C’mon, you got it.”

“I don’t,” you grunt while somewhat laughing, still pulling it to your chest. His voice is more declarative now. You deem it as his professional tone. You also wonder which voice he tends to use in—

“You do. It’s one more—make it your best.”

And you do just that, slumping on the seat in victory.

“Good girl,” he praises, clapping, and he changes the weight on the machine to just five before twisting around and holding a hand out. He helps you up when you take it, but you’re really trying to figure out if what he said was professional if it made you clench your thighs.

“Ready for the next?” His lips stretch into a smile, already predicting your answer.

You bend and get your smoothie, popping the top and drinking, “There’s a next? What’s next?”

“Pull ups of course.”

Truthfully, doing pull ups right after lax for someone who doesn’t really train arms is a death wish. It’s just this once though, and your arms will already be sore, so he might as well make the most of it while the adrenaline is there.

“Oh dear God,” you sigh.

“I’ll do them with you,” he reassures, chuckling.

—•—

And he stands on his word, because after walking over to the bar, he clips the belt attached to weight around his hips. The bar was relatively high, even he can admit, so he isn’t surprised when you ask how the hell you’re supposed to get up there.

And you weren’t even necessarily short, it’s just the bar was made for six-feet-and-over men and athletes. So people like you were left out, hence the stacked boxes meant for help beside it.

Iwaizumi makes sure the belt is secure around himself before walking over to you, taking a stance directly behind.

He commands, “Arms up, sweetheart.” And it must be the proximity, because you do just that without a fight. The pet name contributed too, you’re sure.

But when he lifts you, he first drags his hands from your shoulder blades, to your ribs, and into the small of the your back. So smooth you’re questioning if he did it on purpose.

He couldn’t help it. Not when he’s hovering behind you, almost a foot taller. With one small nudge of his hips forward, he’d rest comfortably right between your ass, smelling the coconut shampoo of your hair. Though instead of being a pervert, he’d stick to the nicknames and the gentle touches until you get the damn hint.

Sometime later he’s effortlessly hauling himself up, counting one by one with you. He says you’ll only do 3 sets of ten as if it was easy. Either way, it was burning by the ninth.

—•—

Finally you’re done. The only reason your arms aren’t completely limp is your heightened senses from being around the attractive man next to you. He literally regulates your blood flow.

And you for damn sure regulate his.

“Okay, now you have to do my workouts,” you perk up.

He unclips the belt, turning to face you, amused. “I have to do your workouts?”

Your arms come to a cross offensively. “What does that mean? Yes. I did your arm day, now you have to do my leg day.”

He throws his hands in the air defensively, the curl of his lips threatening to break his character, “I’m just saying it won’t be the sa—”

“This way!”

—•—

This was a horrible idea.

He’s situated on the angled leg press machine at a diagonal, now gripping onto the handle bars. The amount of circular plates you usually have on it are already there. You’re standing beside him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to add weight? I usually go more than this,” he challenges.

“Fuck you— no.”

His laughter intensifies at your irritation. Then he brings his legs down slow and controlled, somehow still managing to appear like he could do it with his fucking finger if he tried. You’re not surprised, he’s extremely fit; though you had already catered to this by changing the weight to whatever your highest weight was.

He guffaws again at your blank expression. “Fine. How much more do you need?” You sigh.

He appears to think for a moment. Instead of calculating the math like he should be, he’s actually doing nothing of the sort. “Get up there.”

He bends his legs as if confirming he’s dead serious by allowing you to actually step foot on the back of the plate. You stand there still, having not even realized what he’s asking you to do. “What?”

“Get your sweet ass up there and that should be about what my usual weight is.” He shoots a nonchalant glance to the machine. “You won’t fall, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

After a few moments, with an incredulous look painted on your face, you slowly step to the lowered machine, and push yourself up and on to the back, past the weighted plates, to sit not-very-comfortably in the middle. “Uhm…”

“Perfect.”

This time, it didn’t look as easy, but he very much did an entire press to extend his legs out. You watch in wonder over the plate as he carried your weight and plus some just in his legs.

It was his arm day, and you didn’t get to fully watch him do the pull ups since the focus was keeping yourself on the bar. But you got a glimpse when he finished, biceps flexing and pulling extra weight then too. He was strong. You wonder if he puts it to use with his partner?

With his partner. What if he does have a partner? You shake your head, no, he wouldn’t have asked you to do what you’re doing if he did.

His grunts were a nice addition too.

Counting for him aloud, and not completely sure if you didn’t skip a number even though you’re only going to ten, you helped him through the set. It had been a while since there was someone to cheer him on. He was always doing the cheering.

“Okay okay,” you wait for him to finish the set, then get off. It feels so good to have your feet on the ground, sure that you won’t be yelled at by the gym staff to remove yourself from the equipment. “You’ve proved yourself, muscleman.”

“Great, I’ll take you out Saturday then?” He asks, pressing up the remaining weight easy and locking up the machine so he can leave it.

A flush runs across your cheeks, driving you to pick up your drink and sip to hide it. “You don’t know me. What if I have a husband and kids at home?”

You were projecting, you know that. It was fresh on your mind since you slightly wanted to ask him the same question. He stalks over to you.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he observes, nodding to your right hand, making you look as if you didn’t know it was bare. He only stops walking until you’re face to face, way too close to just be a professional interaction. It only worsens when his thumb and index finger pinches your chin, his eyes sending flames through yours. “And let’s both be honest— if there was someone waiting for you at home, you wouldn’t be here with me.”

Let alone at the gym at all, he wanted to add. Whatever pussy was letting you come here to workout instead of telling you how good it feels to have your thick thighs ricocheting off his skin or how good your stretch marks look after being swollen with a child for nine months, doesn’t deserve you anyway.

He doesn’t kiss you, but he swipes your lips with his finger and retreats. The heat doesn’t dissipate.

“Saturday at 7?” You speak softly. So softly and breathless you aren’t even sure if he heard it as he walks away.

“My number’s in your bag, beautiful,” he winks, and then he’s turning the corner, back to where you met earlier in the morning.

smash

If you wanted like actual nsfw, (whoever sent the ask) just send in another into my inbox or just dm me asking!! LMAO

You get unlimited access!!

©️hxltic

[fairie-grl]

inspired by @onadarklingplain 's 'Albon Pet Primer'

Sir Lewis Hamiltion has a dog, his dog is the goodest boy in the world, and I know too much about his dog so now you must suffer with this knowledge as well enjoy:

Lewis adopted Roscoe, a English bulldog, from an online adoption agency in 2013.Roscoe is a purebred bulldog with both his mom and dad being show dogs. Roscoe's name was chosen because Lewis thought it but Crofty calling Nico ‘Roscoe’ at the 2016 Chinese Grand Prix makes me have my doubts. Lewis later adopted Coco, a female bulldog. Coco’s breeder was originally going to put her down due to how expensive her health conditions, mostly likely a heart condition, were but Lewis stepped in. If you are trying to tell Coco and Roscoe apart in photos, Coco has a wider white stripe on her head. It is widest around the top of her head. Roscoe has more wrinkles and a brown spot on his snout and his strip ends at the top of his head and a new one starts off center in the back of his head. Coco’s fang teeth are also out more often compared to Roscoe's little teeth and she is a lighter color than Roscoe. Lewis expressed that he adopted the dog because his family has always had dogs, mostly labradors, but he said he always wanted an English bulldog. Coco lived till June 2020 when she passed in the night. Lewis and Roscoe were with her. His mom has five dogs! Both Roscoe and Coco have passports so they can travel with Lewis. Lewis was also granted special permission from Bernie Ecclestone to bring the dogs to the padlock (I assume Charles will ask Domenicali to bring Leo to the Padlock). 

Lewis brought a jet to fly with the dogs which he then sold in 2019. Roscoe is good with traveling due to his love of napping. In his first trip with Lewis he slept through most of the flight waking up to go to the bathroom and to make Lewis put him in his lap. Lewis followed Roscoe's command, sleeping with Roscoe in his lap like “a baby.” Lewis said, “Roscoe is the best travel pet, he just sleeps with you.” As Roscoe is getting older, Lewis has made the decision to travel less with him, as the time zones were getting hard on him. While Lewis is racing, Roscoe stays in Los Angeles, California with dog trainer Kirstin McMillan (adventuresindogtraining on instagram). Lewis says he gets pictures of Roscoe everyday and checks in on him. Roscoe also attends a dog park or “Los Angeles' first canine social club” as stated on their website called ‘Dog PPL’ in Santa Monica. It is about $120 a month for one dog.  

Not only is Roscoe Lewis’s son but also his best friend. Lewis talked about his instant connection when they first met. Roscoe gets sad when Lewis leaves and happy when he returns. Lewis says, “Then I get the Frisbee and play with him, and that’s, for me, the biggest highlight – the unconditional love you get from a pet like that.” Roscoe loves quad bikes. In one interview, Lewis said it’s because he’s lazy so he likes being driven around. However, I think it’s because he has taken after his dad and wants to race. Roscoe also loves frisbee and his ball; it seems like he enjoys fetching and chasing after things, like chasing other cars down… Roscoe WDC 2024 confirmed. Lewis also has Roscoe involved in many of his projects, Lewis has hinted that Roscoe has a cameo in ‘Apex’, his movie starring Brad Pitt. When Fortnite asked him to be in the game he said he would only agree if Roscoe was in the game with him. Fortnite, of course, agreed because Roscoe is an angel. They ended up putting him in a jet pack. He was 1,500 V-Bucks or 2,400 V-Bucks with the ‘Lewis Hamilton Budle’ (IDK if thats a lot I don’t play Fortnite). Lewis also said Roscoe is the only person he can count on to stand with him along with Bono.

After Coco’s death, Lewis took Roscoe to the vet where they recommended starting him on a vegan diet similar to what Lewis has. This vegan diet is often recommended to bulldogs because they often have food intolerances or allergies to the meat proteins that can affect the skin and gastrointestinal tract. The vegan diet Roscoe is on still includes the same things without the meat proteins in it that caused him to have health issues. Lewis has said his breathing has improved and that he no longer has skin allergies. Roscoe also has physical therapy and acupuncture every week to help with his joints.  Roscoe has also had health issues that caused him to ejaculate, often uncontrollably, scaring baby Roscoe and leading to him getting snipped in 2016. Lewis did have his sperm frozen so that Roscoe could have puppies. Lewis said, “It’s great his genes will live on.” Lewis said his plans were to have Roscoe’s puppies after he retires but with the fanzone in 2024 Australia GP, it sounds to me like he may be looking sooner to have Roscoe’s pups or to retire. Last year, around the British GP, Roscoe had some issues regarding his spine. If I remember correctly, it involved a slipped hernia in his spine. Luckily, he got stem therapy and was able to attend the GP. He has been improving, and as of today he is back to normal.

Now for the part most people know about. Roscoe started his instagram account, roscoelovescoco, in January 2015 with a post featuring Coco and him captioned “Thanks for following us :).” The instagram account was originally a joint account with both Coco and Roscoe until 2020, although both did get solo posts. As expected Roscoe does make money off his Instagram, but he is also a dog model. Lewis said in a Silver Arrows interview in 2021 that he gets paid $700 a day which goes in Roscoe's treat fund. Roscoe also has sponsorships. His Thanksgiving party was sponsored by Bramble Pets, and he did content (including a commercial) for Zapp, a food delivery company Lewis invested in. Roscoe also appears in Lewis' vlog channel (it hasn’t been updated since 2021) multiple times. His last appearance is in a video “Adventures with Roscoe! | Lewis Hamilton Vlogs” which is also the last updated video on Lewis channel. He reached 1 million followers in 2024, which is more than Chouprette Lagerfield, the cat of Karl Lagerfeld (I am not joking, this man left a good chunk of his fortune [~$300 million] to his cat). Roscoe’s captions on his instagram posts were originally typed in a sort of third person first person mix but in October 2020, Roscoe finally established his first first person post with his famous lisp. However, the conspiracy expands as prior to this first lisp post, there are two posts on instagram where Roscoe (and Coco) are talking to us. The first one was posted April 2024 with Roscoe saying, ‘They put a thermometer up me bum, dad!’ In this speech bubble, Roscoe doesn’t have a lisp but does speak in a sort of baby talk. The next post in October 2017 features both Roscoe and Coco with Roscoe saying, “We got acupuncture today Dad!” and Coco saying, “It’s my favorite.” (More info about the dogs getting acupuncture is in the health section.) I will note his lisp comes and goes on his posts around November 2020. His lisp finally stays and its intensity does increase. There are also a few posts taken with Mercedes that don’t feature the lisp, and a few posts talking about Roscoe or Coco written in their “Dad’s” pov where it obviously doesn’t use a lisp.

[silvermeww]

common fandom opinion that everybody is wrong about and the unpopular character you like (and why more people should like them) :3

asdfghjkl OF COURSE I'M LATE WITH THIS but yay thanks for the ask (two whole questions yippee)!!!!! questions from all the way back here for context lol

for the common fandom opinion that everybody is wrong about, idk if it is a fandom ipion per say but can i just get it out of my chest: rewatching xy especially for my au has really cemented for me the idea that alain shouldn't have stuck with being a battle trainer ESPECIALLY in JN. how did everyone including the writers misunderstand my man here?? he was never a battler in the first place; he was only on that path to get enough strength to protect the ones he loved. and it was lysandre that lured him there, that made that want into something violent and destructive (if only the anime could've shown it a bit more... not enough villain for this guy heh). in the end of xy we clearly see him step away from that obsessive need and decide that he's going to go his own way, treasure the time he has now rather than idk gatekeep himself and go off for ages trying to attain an imperfect perfection of strength, and we see in that slideshow thing at the credits that he's off researching again JUST AS HE STARTED. he started on his journey orginally for research, to help sycamore. i just... idk why people assume that he would still want to 'be the best' when a) he's already proven it in the kalos league b) and what did that bring him?? c) when given a new perspective in the end, to keep the mega ring and keep on his journey, he instead stays back to reconnect and decides to start anew, gain his own mega ring (in which WHY DID JN GIVE HIM THE SAME ONE????) and just chill out. it's such a great lesson to not fixate on what could happen and live in the now with what you got, because you can never prepare for the worst and even if you have, how much time have you lost? what is strength to you? anyways free my man alain he should've never been in the masters 8, we could've used that space for literally anyone else instead (yes, even that tobias guy).

the unpopular character you like (and why more people should like them).... hmm idk i think everyone is hated to a degree, gotta search up... ig easiest option is goh??? JN thoughts rn ik, but how on earth does one guy get so much hate?? bigotry aside, i feel like goh is such a refreshing change for the end, a character who has dreams just as big as ash does and the stubborn will to go for it. to catch them all, juxtapositioning against to beat them all. a lifelong journey. ups and downs just like everyone else. like, for one you can't say that he has less involvement like previous companions (especially considering the last few series), and his episodes, like the region before it, are much more down to earth and linked to his emotional maturation as well. his growth in the series is amazing for what the series was (largely episodic), the relationship he has with ash is amazing (ash being in a mentor position but with actual experience and maturity to back it up, besties who understand each other, stubborn allies who won't budge on their ideals), and while we don't get to see much of his pokemon interactions the ones we do see are so, so good. his trust in suicune. him growing with scorbunny. him teaching grookey, and believing in sobble. there's probably a lot more i'm missing but having a male companion, let alone a companion in and of itself, get this much screentime and development is pretty rare in the anime itself, i would say even in horizons we don't get as much, and so while i can say that JN was a very messy sort of season, its episodic nature really lent itself well to goh, who is the kind of guy who wouldn't grow except if placed in many small different scenarios that builds up his character.

[moe-broey]

MAN. You ever got like REALLY FUCKING PASSIONATE about A Vision and you feel SO INSANE ABOUT IT and then. Hhh actually don't care. I was like FEVERISH OVER THIS. THOUGHT I WAS SOOOOOO ONTO SOMETHING. But now I just couldn't care less LMFAOOOOO

WELL. Sequence of Events:

> Attempt to find a suitable name for a potential Pokemon trainer OC, thinking of the common naming conventions (flowers/plants, colors)

> Instructions unclear made another Moe.

Loupin. I mean Loupin.

Lifted from the book I was reffing:

Lupinus - Dejection, Imagination, Voraciousness -- to comtemplate upon a wild lupinus is believed by some to present a portal to the fairy world.

Lupinus texensis - Forgiveness, Self-sacrifice, Survival. Specifc colors - Pink, Memories of those who died, Struggle to survive.

Idk the more I look at my sketches the angrier I am it just didn't come out... I don't even know. This isn't even really canon, like I've said before. If Moe stayed in the dream realm it would just be a completely different person. It would be a tragedy. I never wanted to explore it as a possibility.

But then I was just Struck. With SUUUUUCH a strong image. Of, the idea behind all the fairies, that they never had a chance to grow up. I was thinking about pixies and imps. I was thinking of a dream pixie that delivers prankish dreams. The idea, that at first glance, you really Can't tell which realm Loupin is associated with. Then it casts Wake Up and Get Ready For Work dream or You're Out In Public Butt Ass Naked Unable to Find Clothes dream or Totally Safe For Use Toilet I Promise dream. It's...... ultimately harmless...? But COME ON, MAN.

Okay but going back a minute. About the not growing up, detail. That, this version of Moe would be stuck as an eternal child. I was ESPECIALLY thinking about "ideal selves", and that Moe has never seen a future for itself. Even as a child. It could never imagine what it would even look like all grown up. And I was thinking about how each fairy Wishes for something, that's a direct response to their trauma. Ideal Self + Unable to see a future for itself + What it wishes for.

Then I had a BEAUTIFUL. INCREDIBLE VISION. Loupin is a beast unit. OF COURSE MOE'S IDEAL SELF WOULD BE A BEAST UNIT (LIKE. Baby Moe In Particular). Sharp pointy fangs and BIG HUGE CLAWS and strong legs for running and HOOVES. TO KICK AND STOMP YOU TO DEATH WITH. YOU BITCH ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️For extra flair (and speed!), its wings are more dragonfly-like. And a cute little tail............ hell, the way this is going, you don't even gotta introduce it to it/its pronouns it's probably already fucking there. Could also speak to some dehumanization experienced in a previous life but don't worry about that. There's actually plenty of things here you don't gotta worry about. Definitely don't overanalyze the fact that it could never see a future for itself that every day was just survival mode and what it wants for the Most is a way to either defend itself make itself Scary or be really fast.

Godddd okay okay but there's Something. Too. To the fact that this Moe is frozen in time, 12 at absolute oldest. I was aiming for a more androgynous look, too. But for the idealized self to remove anything that it could be sexualized for against its will. Remove everything it has to "protect", add more bells and whistles for protection.

GAAAHH MAYBE. MAYBE. THE PROBLEM. Is I just got too much shit going on LMFAOO and I ALWAYS. REALLY REALLY STRUGGLE W THE FAIRY DESIGNS. BANE OF MY EXISTENCE. I gave up on the color palette halfway LMFAOOO LIKE. This is very much a First first draft. But also, not something I feel too compelled to spend any more time on...? It is just a thought experiment, at its core. Any which way. I do love it... the Idea of Loupin.............. unfortunately if I think too hard about the ramifications of Loupin I will cry and throw up though. No world where this can be canon. SAD❗

[questinwitchface]

oooooohhh i'm restraining myself to asking about one (1) wip... what is brood!!!! tell me everything

From this WIP game

Hello dear! Thanks for the ask :) Okay so Brood is a mission fic with established SamBucky where Sam, Bucky, and Joaquín end up teaming up with Yelena to stop a Hydra sect from recreating the Red Room. There's a lot of tension between Yelena and Bucky because she remembers him from his time as a trainer in the Red Room when she was a child. This is a fic that has some dark themes because of the nature of the villains' schemes (for example, if Hydra is going to recreate the Red Room, there's obviously going to be some child abuse involved with that). It's a longfic - I currently have 12 chapters written, and I'd say I'm maybe halfway through? Maybe less than halfway? Idk I'm terrible at predicting how long my fics will end up being, but the doc is 30k so far.

This is one that I struggle with a lot. It's been in my drafts for over two years now, and I think about it often, and I want to finish it, but I'm not sure I'm good at writing the action, and the subject matter is darker than what I usually work with. I think I just need to purge the demons (aka the inner critic) from my head and just write the damn thing, see if it's good after it's written.

Anyway, here's a snippet:

Sam's head feels like it’s splitting. He isn’t exactly happy about bringing a stranger into his home, but he hadn’t known what else to do. There’s a child assassin on the loose, and this woman seemed to know everything about the kid already. The only reason the councilwoman is still alive is because of the strange blonde woman in the backseat. Sam rubs his forehead for a second. Bucky won’t be happy about this. The rest of the car ride is tense and mostly silent, except for the radio. By the time they pull into the driveway, Sam’s almost got his apology speech to Bucky worked out. He pulls into the driveway and exits the car. He and Joaquín grab their bags out of the trunk while the woman gets out and looks around. “Good security,” she says, nodding toward one of the surveillance cameras on the garage. “Told you it was safe,” Sam answers, slinging his bag onto his shoulder. “Come on,” he adds, leading them up the front porch steps. He unlocks the door and steps over the threshold. “Babe?” Sam calls. “I’m home.” “In the kitchen,” Bucky answers from deeper in the house. Sam slides off his shoes in the doorway and gestures for Joaquín and the woman to do the same. Joaquín does, but the woman just looks at Sam as if to say, ‘Really?’ Sam shakes his head and leads them further into the house. He drops his bag by the couch and steps through the doorway to the kitchen. “I just finished dinner,” Bucky says, his back to Sam while he stirs a pot on the stove. He turns around and gives Sam a huge smile before pulling him into a sweet kiss. “Is Torres staying?” he asks when he pulls away. “And a guest,” Sam answers, gesturing to where Joaquín and the woman are standing in the kitchen doorway. The woman is tense, her expression blank, but rage burns in her eyes. Bucky tenses next to Sam, going rigid as a board. Sam frowns at Bucky, but Bucky’s eyes don’t leave the woman in front of him. His face has gone pale. “Sam,” Bucky says with a kind of exaggerated calm. “Would you mind telling me why there’s a Black Widow in our kitchen?”

[eurydicees]

Idk if anyone has asked this before on tumblr or if you made a post about it, but what are your favorite hq fics? (Or fics that stuck with you)

MY FAVORITE TOPIC* !!!! so i have a #fic rec tag that i collect fics in like a dragon hoarding gold, but here are some special favorites from my ao3 bookmarks**! sorted by ship/theme, but otherwise not in any particular order (under the cut bc this got WAY too long). if you've already read all these you should ask for more recs. i have them. i have so many.

*my other favorite topic is talking about MY fics. here is a link to my ao3. shameless self promo and all that <3

**i read a, um, concerning amount of iwaoi, so this is an iwaoi heavy list. sorry but also not really because there's a LOT of good fics abt them.

getting together fics <333333

my heart is where it's always been by foreverautumn (iwaoi, 21113 words)

Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t care who Oikawa might have feelings for, but within the span of three days, it’s somehow the only thing he can think about.

State of Grace by lahdolphin (kuroshou, 6985 words)

Kuroo's relationship with Daishou had never been simple. Kissing him didn't make up for the many years Kuroo spent agonizing over him, but it was a very good start.

all that i see by princessofthebugs (iwaoi, 649 words)

Iwaizumi confesses to him on his birthday, as he sits on his floor, shredding paper into tiny bits. "I used to like you."

the strange music of your heart by caniculeo (bokuaka, 18446 words)

in which akaashi falls for bokuto first.

i was tired and you were standing in the best light by keishn (iwaoi, 7148 words)

It's the time of year that the sun starts setting when they get out of practice. Looking at Oikawa with the pink-orange light reflected in his eyes and shining off his hair is not something Hajime thinks he can survive.

open doors and plastic stars by ikeru (iwaoi, 22708 words)

Loving Oikawa has never been exclusive to Iwaizumi—not when Oikawa is a magnet, an incandescent star that pulls and pulls until you can’t help but watch him, love him. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but his heart breaks all the same.

life is chances that are taken by bohemianraspberries (iwaoi, 3970 words)

He isn’t afraid that Oikawa won’t want to be his friend anymore, because neither of them are like that and besides, he’s fairly sure by now that Oikawa likes boys too – it’s the fear that nothing will change. He might tell Oikawa that he thinks he’s not a hundred per cent straight, Oikawa might tell him the same, and they might continue to stay best friends forever, and Iwaizumi isn’t so sure that’s all he wants anymore. Because he’s pretty certain that it’s not just boys he’s into – it’s Oikawa.

the rest of your life by Queen_Dragon_Lightning_Castle (iwaoi, 2983 words)

When Hanamaki asks him what type of girl he’d go for, Hajime shrugs. ”Dunno. As long as she’s chill.” Thereupon, Tooru tries too hard when he doesn't need to try at all.

Underneath the Mistletoe by orphan_account (kuroken, 3811 words)

While Kenma and Kuroo are out together to see the local Christmas lights, they find a special display for taking festive pictures. If only they had paid closer attention to all of the decorations...

shut up (make me) by love_yourself_1358 (iwaoi, 11557 words)

alternatively: how Oikawa is the most oblivious person ever. But that's okay. Iwaizumi will still be his happy ending.

canon-to-me character studies

An Opponent Is Announced by agletbaby (genfic, 13141 words)

In which Sakusa is trying to prepare for the Olympics, but Oikawa Tooru's backstory keeps getting in the way.

don't talk to me or any of my fourteen children ever again by meregalaxiesandgods (ukai & karasuno vbc, 39963 words)

Ukai Keishin was not—and had no interest in becoming—a father. He’d somehow become responsible for fourteen children regardless.

most people never even get a single high school rival by sulfate (iwaoi, 5217 words)

Team Argentina gets to know Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer.

Through a Mother's Eyes by aunnoo (iwaoi, 2427 words)

You might've only given birth to one, but you get to watch two grow. They are your boys. (If there's anything you'd wish upon them, it'd be happiness.)

silver fork by ratboyrussell (seijoh genfic, 2774 words)

Teammates, friends, family: those who help out when needed.

AUs

The Whole Of The Moon by IetjeSiobhan (kuroken, 9253 words)

Tetsurou has never thought about it before, but right now, he is absolutely and thoroughly terrified. Because he’s so, so in love, and he’s always known that Kenma is it for him, but what if he’s not it for Kenma?

just hear me out by loveclouds (iwaoi, 7679 words)

Iwaizumi's beeper has been going off for Oikawa since they've been kids. Oikawa's has only ever been silent.

other favorites

"Blankets" - Feb 2020 Prompts by hightopboots (kuroshou, 1472 words)

There's a blizzard, Kuroo and Daishou are stuck in a cabin together.

bad days and stomach pains by kittykawas (iwaizuumi & matsukawa genfic, 3705 words)

Iwaizumi isn’t one for dramatics, generally. He tends to be straight forward and pragmatic and he doesn’t like to catastrophize - not when Oikawa is right there catastrophizing enough for a small country - but sometimes, life gets the better of him. He has bad days. And today is a terrible, horrible, fucking bullshit day.

Comfortable by queerjab (bokuroo, 3108 words)

“Dude,” Kuroo covered his eyes with one hand, feeling how red his face was getting. “I promise you cannot help with this.” “Well how would I know? You won’t tell me!” “I started my fucking period!” Kuroo exclaimed, instantly regretting the admission. “Fuck,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes covered to avoid any further embarrassment. He’d never wanted so badly to sink into the floor. “Oh,” Bokuto breathed, and Kuroo considered slapping him. “Is that all?”

can we always be this close (forever and ever?) by lunarumbra (sakuatsu/osasuna, 3128 words)

Or: Sakusa visits Onigiri Miya one night to talk about weddings and rings.

The years shall run like rabbits by ladyoflalaland (ushiten, 7292 words)

Or, Ushijima Akemi watches her son’s relationship with Tendou change over the years and finds herself changing with it.  

[teecupangel]

Ok but.... Pokemon. What if pokemons were real and everyone would have they own team (maybe not 6, but 2/3). I MEAN GHOST TYPE WOULD BE SO GOOD. Also i cannot unsee at least one assassin having Nickit! It's pokedex entry has written that they are very silent and It erases they own tracks with swipes of its tail. THAT IS STEALTH. Also thievul can marks they targets with scent that help them stalks it. Like the bird in newer games. (Sorry for my english!)

(Your English is perfectly understandable :))

I am totally unqualified to make Pokemon teams for AC characters as I have only finished one Pokemon game: Red. I am soooo unfamiliar with all the Pokemons (hell, I don’t even know what gen we are now???). I mean, I played Black, X, and Let’s Go Eevee but I never finished them. XD

So all I can offer you is this:

Desmond gets booted into Detective Pikachu AU idea

And these unorganized notes:

Whatever Pokemons Desmond gets, he must have an Eevee that does not evolve at all. This is to represent his endless possibility. The only possible Eevee evolution I think we should allow is Sylveon because we all know he’s going to spoil that Eevee. Two other possible Pokemons he could have are a CastForm that forever stays sunny whenever near Desmond (and is really more like a pet and doesn’t go to battle) or a Solgaleo. Just… give him a sun-themed Pokemon for the irony.

Going with the Eevee idea, his ancestors all have one specific Eevee evolution. Edward would have a Vaporeon, of course. Altaïr would either have Espeon (a reference to the psychic-like powers of the Apple) or a Jolteon (pokemon.com has Jolteon as the fatest of the Eevee evolutions). Ratonhnhaké:ton would have Leafeon or Jolteon if Altaïr has Espeon. Ezio would have Flareon (because I am mean and making this a Cappadocia reference, sorry Ezio). Haytham would have a Glaceon or an Umbreon. (Or, if we’re killing off Edward anyway, give Haytham Edward’s Vaporeon)

Altaïr would definitely be the cover-all basis type of trainer so, yeah, he’d have 6 Pokemons of various types (some even dual types).

Considering Nickit’s habit of stealing, I can see Edward or Ezio having a Nickit.

Honestly, all of them having a Thievul might make sense. Like they’re an unknown shadowy organization that’s known for (1) wearing hoods, (2) having Thievul and some kind of (3) Ghost-type Pokemon on their team.

I think Mary should have a Gardevoir and that Gardevoir stays with Edward after her death (I mean, if Mary dies in this one. I’m not saying we should kill Mary, just saying…)

Evie and Jacob having Nidoqueen and Nidoking would be funny. Like… their father gave them the Nidorans as their starter Pokemons. Even funnier is if Evie has the Nidoking while Jacob has the Nidoqueen. Or, if you want them to have newer Pokemons, they both received a Charcadet when they were young and Jacob’s evolved to Armarouge while Evie’s evolved to Ceruledge. Just, they should have one Pokemon that’s like different evolutions of the same Pokemon (or opposite of the other’s Pokemon).

I think Shay should have a Froslass as a reference to how Rogue lets you travel to icy parts and how the last parts are set in an icy location (not counting France).

I can’t explain why but I think Arno should have a Greninja and they’d be a tag-team.

Of course, Eivor gets a Corviknight.

I honestly like the idea that Desmond, Altaïr, Ezio, and Ratonhnhaké:ton all have an Alcremie because someone got them to twirl around and strike a pose to evolve their Milcery… who records the entire thing. (I’m betting it’s Edward. It has to be Edward)

Minerva appears as a Gothitelle. Hell, she could be pretending to be Desmond’s Gothitelle. Idk, Gothitelle can predict the future (or just the lifespan of the trainer?), it sounds right that Minerva is Gothitelle or something.

I have this conundrum. I kinda like the idea of Altaïr, Ezio, and Ratonhnhaké:ton having distinct Pokemons related to one another. Now, my first thought would be they would each have Kanto starter Pokemons to show how they’re the first main characters of Assassin’s Creed. Or, you know, they would have the legendary birds of Gen 1 instead to show their legendary status. But, at that point, I thought, why not just give them the Raikou, Entei, and Suicune setup from the Detective Pikachu AU? At some point, my brain goes why don’t they just have a Deoxys each with Desmond having a normal form, Altaïr getting the speed form, Ezio getting the defense form and Ratonhnhaké:ton getting the attack form?

And that’s when my brain gave up and went “Fuck it, give Desmond Arceus. Lol.”

[nattousan]

iirc u said you got a new job, what do you do for work now?

do you ever get anxious while working? fi so how do you cope/make the anxiety go away?

so because i have an art background and my sister recommended me, i'm a labtech at [CHAIN DENTURE MAKING STORE]! And, despite having no background in dentistry, they hired me because i have experience sculpting and making molds, as well as just having a generally amicable and teachable attitude. Its cool because a lot of the skills i developed making sculptures have translated very literally into my work making dentures! Which has allowed me a confidence that means that I actually don't experience any anxiety at work. It's like if you were a prolific smashbros player and nintendo suddenly asked you if you want to be a beta tester haha.

Also your timing is perfect anon bc while I don't personally have anxiety, my partner struggles heavily with it, to the point where they had to take medical leave from work. Idk if you already have a job or are looking but from observing them and my own experience, here's some general tips i can offer you:

- anxiety is a confidence killer, the endless fear and "what-ifs" can be paralyzing, seek out work that you know you can do good in, even if it's not your passion. I'll be honest i never thought about dentistry as a career but im using skills that i'm confident in and im allowing myself to ask questions when i don't know things bc thats what the trainers are there for.

- any sort of "i'm useless, i'm a burden, no one will hire me" self talk is literally your anxiety talking and is of the devil. don't listen to it. you gotta separate your anxious brain from your logical brain and assess uncritically what u bring to the table, are you good at organizing? can you work a spread sheet? do you find cleaning things soothing and satisfying? you gotta tailor your job search to your individual proclivities instead of applying to any random listing you see.

- if you already have a job thats giving you anxiety ask yourself two questions: what specifically about this job is giving me anxiety and can i do anything to avoid/correct it? maybe talk to a supervisor about your triggers and what youre feeling, if they're a good supervisor they'll try and work with you, if you get told to suck it up buttercup thats part of the job, welp, start looking for other places to work.

- PLEASE please PLEASE ask for help!!! at least in my partners case, they initially thought they had to go it alone and weather the job search process on their own but when i tell you there was a whole ass career center with COUNSELORS just waiting to help people find jobs, i'm not kidding! there are resources out there !! USE THEM!! YOU DESERVE TO BE HELPED!! check out your local community college or library to see if they have a career center! Mine does and it opened me up to several trade grants i didn't know about! THEY HAVE THE RESOURCES!! GO USE THEM!

- last and probably hardest for anxious people, you gotta find a way to stop giving a fuck about what people think of you! self confidence stems from within and when you're confident people can pick up on it and are more likely to trust you with things and hire you for things. Even if its a fake confidence! nothing has helped me more out in life is me just doing things because "eh, i got this, i'm sure it'll work out in the end" you gotta actively embrace failure as not a world ending event but a part of the process forward.

if you wanna send me another message about the specifics of your situation i'd be happy to tailor my advice but these are a few of the basics i guess. Like i said, I don't have anxiety but am very close to someone who does and hooboy i do not envy y'all. stay strong, soldier 🫡

[cheemken]

Glad you enjoyed the angst

Anyways,

I imagine the champions get bullied by their Pokémon sometimes

Like Hau bought a Malasada for himself but Decidueye keeps bothering him for some, and Hau is refusing to give him a piece cause, he’s a big bird, a piece isn’t big enough and Hau wants some for himself. So Decidueye does the only logical thing, and spirit shackles Hau to the his chair and walks away with the half eaten Malasada

Even Diantha and Gardevoir being pissed at each other all day for some reason. So when Diantha finally got home from a long day at the Kalos League, Gardevoir gets out her pokeball and just fucking, teleports both her and Diantha back to the League and then teleports herself back home. Leaving Diantha alone

Or imagine if Cynthia is letting her Pokémon run around in the snow and when it’s time to go home they all go into their pokeballs except for Lucario. And like the dog Pokémon it is, starts barking and runs off further in the distance. Completely ignoring Cynthia and making her chase him through the snow

Steven may be rich and definitely bought everything his Pokémon could need and more. But imagine how many bed frames Steven had to buy in his lifetime cause Metagross, despite having a custom made bed made for his size, decided Stevens bed was the best one to sleep on. Bro never moves despite how much Steven pleads with him

And I know for a fact Iris’ Lapras had used sing on her to put her to sleep, so she and the rest of Iris’ Pokémon could raid the snack cupboard. Girly really just told the other Pokémon to leave the room, put Iris to sleep, and then called them back in. Druddigon at least had the decency to carry Iris to her bed

The fucking whiplash from angst to this lmfaoooo😭🤣

But anyways

My guy, Diantha's bit would be my villain origin story I shit you not💀 if my pkmn did that to me I'll start summoning Giratina lmaooo

Lapras tho😭😭 homegirl really just put their trainer to sleep to get snacks what an icon🤣 bet tho she and Haxorus would conspire together, like Haxorus not only making Iris real ass tired during their training, but also telling Lapras to sing during training too so Iris would be drowsy and the others could slowly make their way back to the kitchen to get all the snacks, next thing they know Iris is fast asleep face first on the ground lol

Pfft Hau's and Iris' mons teaming up, Lapras just sings both of them to sleep while the other mons get all their snacks hahaha

Imagine Cynthia just having a leash for Lucario now tho, but that still wasn't enough imagine that doggo still running through the snow dragging Cynthia with him, and Cynthia's there like holding on tight to the leash, just fucking vibing as her body gets dragged through the snow. I'm p fckin sure homegirl ate like, a ton of snow at this point chdmdb hahaha then again w all the ice cream this mfer eats I'm sure she's immune to brain freezes

Imagine w the others tho😭🤣 imagine Charizard having so fed up with Leon not knowing where to go he legit refused to fly Leon anywhere until he finds someone who actually knows where they're going. Like, Leon already seated at Charizard's back but Zard just fucking refuses and lies on top of him, huffing out and staying like that until Leon calls in Sonia or Raihan

W Lance tho, imagine Dragonite wearing Lance's cape bcmdnd idk I always found this cute, cause in my pmd au Lance as a Dragonite kept his cape hahah but like, Dragonite also impersonating Lance when he's wearing the cape tho, it keeps kids entertained hahaha

Milotic and Wallace man I'm sure for a damn fact that fish would roll around the mud to spite Wallace, I just know it, just staring right at Wallace as she rolls around the dirt, if she feels even more petty, she'd throw mud at Wallace too lmfao

Kingambit would poke holes on Geeta's clothes fr, like at the back of her coat or smth, she won't even notice, no one even tells her😭 the kids see this slash across the back of her coat once, Nemona was abt to tell her, Penny shut her up saying let Geeta figure out by herself. Geeta did not in fact figure it out by herself. One of the Gym Leaders finally told her when Geeta was starting to question why people were looking at her weird hahaha

[toinfinitywinning]

confident about confidence & not confident that makes sense.

*real Quick. This (G)entry might make ur head spin. Could also Title : what you think no one knew. U tried it.

I wont ask for a raise of hands. Everyone deals with it. There’s no solution, no answer. Experience & being a dumbass——>Guidance and wisdom. There are many reasons I bring up confidence. One, it’s one of those words that’s not a word …it is a State of being. you just kind of don’t know where to place it b/c well, you’re not confident of where to land w/ it and even if you were you’d be like just leave it bc i don’t have time for this. to debate confidence v confidence? again Dog-ear the page or burn it bc im not even confident about THAT. Then once and only if it’s (the whole world of confidence) placed hyper-questioning kicks in: is that where it should be? Then… be and stay? Also am I losing it? I’m not confident about that but maybe. That’s always on the agenda you never agreed to and I AM confident about that i think.

If there is one constant in My Life it’s been My back n forth relationship with confidence. I have this thought daily, truly. I’ll say to myself ok yea I’m cute…

[insert any other compliment you give yourself or even receive by others only b/c you’re actually insecure— and just like the fact you’re still sick from being healthy (Me) it doesn’t make sense so bc it doesn’t make sense just I guess get over it and carry on]

…but R u cute enough to actually be happy and okay about that or do you want to change something? Take another chiseled mirror picture flexing? And u never went to a trainer? Feel better now? But I only got 3 likes. So idk.

Er No i think I’ve figured it out. Just dont eat. Exercise 2-4 hrs a day. Weights. 100 Push-up’s. 100 Calf raises. Repeat. Twice a Day if ya can. Anything to find confidence in the material. Find Pride. Only Pride you’re good at tho is the lgbtq spectrum and recently are glad it’s a spectrum since u have no idea where you fall into it anymore bc you’re not confident and it’s completely irrelevant b/c I can live between the letters+ the rest of my Life— that’s fine. Any of which could be foreshadowing of any category of Illness to come. But yea Now that you’re sick…you gotta trash your other Pride AGAIN b/c you can’t do anything without help.

10, 9, 8…my Tourette’s R throttled.

Then lately, aka the past 2 years—I can make the cute comment, i like my sun freckles and My eyes. My baby hairs when i wear a hat backwards. My smile. Just dont smile where you look fat or have a dbl chin bc you worked too hard to get all that weight off and how would that look if you just got fat again? Pitiful and weak and a fraud. Going back on your word b/c anything I declare Online is binding. So just Show some of your body in pics but not all so people dont think youre trying NOT to be totally honest with internet fame but so you still look confident. but as for doing anything about it…physically can’t now b/c trying to get better is not a good idea bc of POTS and Pppunishment for trying to be in shape but oh when u tried to be in shape never was not-not punishment. Then what…back to no confidence. Felt like My Face is cute but _______ oh, ill still think that later. Confident about that. Forget about iiit. Post it.

Then all the sudden youre not just fighting with yourself. there’s the whole social Media thing also including the “felt cute, might _____ later.” What R we doing later (?!) LOL. We say Shit that doesn’t make sense at all. (English still deemed the hardest language to learn b/c we have three versions of the same thing). Who decided why ppl need to know what we’re doing later if we are cute? LOL, Well then, I’m typically the later. I think. B/c if I even did feel cute I didn’t have enough confidence to say it, yea? Even if I was?

TRAP

This goes back to My eating Disorder(s)—which, is technically a fantastic eerily precluding example of the back and forth weight and confidence issues I’ve always had on and off. Ok so weight, up and down. Confidence obviously plays along. Self worth in that scale- turn the lights off. Can’t see your bones anymore, I’m doing something wrong. I’m healthier but I also have Long COVID-19? I lost all this weight and im fainting? Oh and science does back up that the reason u were so susceptible to getting sick is bc you got healthy! Your body was so assaulted it kicked into overdrive to help you but did a 180 gainer instead of the whole 360. So u Quit smoking. stopped drinking, et. Working on an eating disorder mixed of anorexia and exercise bulimia bc you used to be morbidly obese and lost 150 lbs and dammit you’re gonna let ppl know it for confidence’s sake. Do. Not. Waiver. Social Media is holding us all hostage and accountable.

That’s weak, Gentry. B/c if it’s on the Internet it’s REAL and it’s permanent. Keep it up. Don’t think about it too much.

Back to my body being so healthy it gets sick. The most laughable backwards bull shiggity I’ve ever been a part of. My Pleasure. Again, body got So healthy in fact, the health takes form and wants to protect you so badly that it turns turbo, fast, furious and wants to heal you SO fast and so well, well, it’s bad. And, AND, you cant do anything about that trust me your body is confident in that. Oh and also wait even tho u did follow all the covid safety rules half of America made fun of that is also irrelevant. Why? I’m confident the answer is bc What why? LOL. This gets Good, gets better. Need 2 years to explain. So book it in advance.

Speed ‘round to tie all the above mess? not confident I can do that with this entry. Can’t speed through any of this type Schitt in a few words. Forget a proofread.

Engine sputters. Then stops even sputtering. And pls stop using that word.

Pretty confident I can’t go anywhere now!

See now? Ofc you don’t.

Truly it was the beginning of the End. I’m confident about that. I do thank God for that tho. Not that this needed to happen but something needed to distract Me from myself and its prison only I could have built. Go ahead and add that pressure to your Tab too.

Me thinks i do. I sound Manic. And steroids influenced.

PS: if you take anything from this—these strategies of extremes to get extremes don’t work. They’re temporary. It’s more your mind than your body. They’re not going to make you happy everlasting.even Snow White got F’d temporarily and she was not even cute. There’s a shallowness to the extremes intoxication but unless like an Addiction you’re ready to Face and admit it honestly healing cannot Begin. TIME is on your side and most of the time you’d prefer it the other Way then the other Way. So This “advice”— or call it what you want— doesn’t just apply to confidence and the extremes we Will take so you CAN be all about you you you. Where is the line btw confidence Health and cockiness and a titch narcissism? The obsession—It Will leave you empty.

I just read the above and thank goodness I didn’t handwrite it b/c then you’d really have no chance of deciphering any part of it! Even so you may have to learn the hard Way like most of us. Something I’ll never understand but can look at somebody and know they’ve been there too.

Just do you. Don’t try so hard. You’ll be so tired. But just be present. That’s gonna bring joy. Not a scale. Not a selfie. What do YOU want. Trust my confidence on this at least. Ya can’t beat it. Truly is what is at your Core. What do people think first? I’m still unsure I want to know that anyway! Being yourself is terrifying. WHYYY?!

I need a scribe.

Don’t ask Me ;)

Be blessed.

Xx, g3

[merlyn-bane]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Thanks for the tag, @frostbitebakery !!🥰🥰🥰

1.) How many works do you have on ao3

35, but that also includes some of pyro's that I'm listed as co on because I helped with so much of the plotting out and behind the scenes stuff

2.) What's your ao3 word count?

336,631

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Right now primarily Star Wars bc that's where my brainrot is, but I've been known to play around in a few other sandboxes. There are a few Star Trek fics on my AO3 as well, and there's a multifandom xreader sideblog floating around somewhere that I am not going to tag because I consider it a Different Era and not reflective of the work I'm doing now. Even though I'm STILL getting notes on a Wolverine smut fic I posted all the way back in 2018.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Foelu

SubObi Week Day Five

SubObi Week Day One

SubObi Week Day Four

SubObi Week Day Six

(Foelu is leading by A Margin in basically everything but hits now, it's insane)

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! And I'm usually pretty good at it. Sometimes I'm really not sure what to say and sometimes I get kind of overwhelmed so not always, but I do try. I'm super behind on Foelu atm bc you all continue to just blow me away with the support on that one, but I promise I'm planning to sit down and try to get caught up soon.

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angsty endings aren't super my thing, to be honest. Most of the things I've actually finished have happy endings, just because that's my personal preference. Most of my angst is in the middle, and I'd say probably the angstiest fic I have (at least right now) is Traveling Song. Ari has...been through it. It used to be a whole lot worse before the first rewrite happened though.

7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Idk, maybe the Obi-Wan Omegaverse series I did for SubObi Week?

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, here's to hoping that doesn't change anytime soon.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Oh, yes. All sorts of it 😈😈

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Crossovers have never super been my thing, so no, not really.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that know of, again, hoping it stays that way.

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, I think, but I have had one or two podfic'ed!

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I'm listed as a co-author on @pyromanicdaydreamer 's The Moments In Between since I helped with so much of the development for it (what can I say, I'm an ideas guy if I'm anything), but I've never really co-written anything, as far as the actual words and stuff.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

I'm mentally ill about Codywan in a way I've never really been before or since, to be honest. They're my special little guys. Also, though, Octavious and Jedidiah from Night At The Museum, Obviously.

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh, so many.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I think the most consistent feedback I've gotten is that my character work and humor are good, which does just make me feel real nice because characterization is something I worry about.

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

I am a total slave to the muse, my WIP graveyard is sprawling. I do think I could stand to be a little more descriptive at times, and I'm never going to claim that an English teacher wouldn't cry at some of my grammar. I'm a lot more concerned with how things sound than if they're technically correct.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's one of those things that's dependent on the characters, but when appropriate I do think it can add more depth. It also just makes sense for some characters--for example, you can be on either side of the clones-being-Mandalorian debate, but picking up another language from the trainers that the Kaminoans and likely their future generals don't know could only be in their best interest strategically.

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Marvel I think. Pyro and I wrote a bunch of OC stuff in the 2012 era, and I think one of my very first ones was a Thor x OC that might even still be on ff.net.

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

Oh fuck. Uh. C'mon, man, this is like asking me to choose a favorite child. Shit. Um. I don't know if it's my favorite, but They Told Me I Couldn't Bag A Jedi was a lot of fucking fun to work on.

I think I'm gonna tag @ferretrade @goddammitjim @shootingstarpilot @bluemaskedkarma @brigittttoo

[marinecorvid]

2.21.23 (but actually drawn at least a month ago - and now posted 6.2.23) - some xy fic sketches. rambles beneath the cut

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in my Great Fanfiction Rewrite of the (X)Y plot because it was sadly lacking in some places, Calem/Xavier kinda sorta joins Team Flare! To be honest this isn't my 100% original idea, I saw someone post once on here somewhere how cool it would've been if your rival, frustrated with constantly losing to you, joined Team Flare in desperation to beat you. I have taken this concept and am running with it. Xavier in my story Did Not take kindly to losing the Mega Ring to Yvonne: a rookie trainer, a girl, a girl who doesn't fall into his preconceived notions of what a young female trainer should be like, a girl he initially assumed he would be in a relationship with and he'd be the tough trainer in contrast to her contest abilities, someone from a poorer family from his. He gets uhh a little wild trying to prove his might makes right (deeply sheltered child who was never exposed to anything that would upset him syndrome)

In my head Y is the canon, but I'm doing a ramshackle combo into a tentative Z in which Yvonne and Yveltal fight Lysandre together, but also Xavier and Xerneas at some point and Zygarde is there too as a result of Team Flare managing to find BOTH legendaries (who in the anime were depicted as being right on top of each other) but only figuring out how to use Yveltal in the Ultimate Weapon. Xavier steals the Poke Flute and uses it to wake Xerneas (willingly or not - he's irrational, but IDK how down he'd be for the "destroy the world" plot, but Xerneas DEFINITELY uses ~fairy powers~ to fuck with his mind)

Yvonne has vitiligo! Dyes her hair blonde for the first halfish of the game, lets it grow out to its natural brown as a symbolic representation of not wanting to conform to certain beauty standards. She starts wearing very snazzy suits post-game, avoiding short sleeves and skirts

My HC is that Sycamore is her da! He and Grace were an item back in the day when Grace was in Kalos Rhyhorn racing, and she only realized she was pregnant when she'd already left. Sycamore didn't feel ready at all to be an active father, and Grace didn't feel any strong need to be in a relationship with him/have him be a part of Yvonne's life with a strong circle of friends and family who'd help with childrearing, so he stayed in Kalos and continued his work on evolution and Fairy Types in Kalos, every other month or so receiving an email of an update of Yvonne's life in progress. Eventually Grace's racing injuries/chronic pain is too debilitating to continue racing, and Sycamore offers his grandparents' cottage in the starting town. Yvonne knows her father is an academic/scientist in Kalos but doesn't know it's him, and doesn't want to know until she's more comfortable in the region. She DOES start to suspect though, but only confirms it mid/post-Geosenge crisis (haven't decided how long that's drawn out) in a hospital bed. Sycamore (after years of watching his daughter grow up from afar, and has become more invested in her life in the past few years) is delighted that she's willing have a familial connection

a lot of people draw Yveltal as a bird (super cool, no judgement) but it's very dragon-y to me with the hands/wings, kinda like how bat wings are just elongated fingers with skin between them. The logic of the tail eludes me though. It's Yvonne's buddy post game! As much as she does not want it to be her buddy! But when a super powerful ancient deity of death decides it wants to be your friend there's not a lot you can do to stop it. She warms up to it eventually. They have a fun time threatening Malva together

Korrina is a sports lesbian

Shauna slight redesign. She and Yvonne become an item around Laverre. In my story there's a cool Ren Faire-ish thing happening when they arrive and they both get a little tipsy and kiss and spend the evening running around in semi-accurate reenactment dresses giggling and dancing and giving each other wildflowers

Gogoat =)

[scarletlizzard]

As a recap of pt 1, there are overarching themes of religion, and the danger of assumptions. It’s important to note that alcohol has been at play since the beginning, whether as a crutch, veil, or catalyst. Additionally, this whole part may serve as a cautionary tale to those who have an inclination to put people on a pedestal.

There are countless buzz words that add to the religious undertones. Overall, I will venture to say that part two really plays with the idea of needing someone biblically. Additionally, there’s a motif of fire throughout the piece, at this point, it’s just important to keep in mind how it grows from beginning to end. Here, it starts in the cheeks of Reader’s face and spreads from there until it swallows both characters whole.

Reader is recounting the “heavenly” experience with Natasha right before they meet again. Reader wants to drown in the sight of Natasha, a play on the idea of baptism, where you accept god as your your lord and savior, and christ as his son before being dipped into a pool by a pastor in front of witnesses. (Idk if I got that right - signed, a recovering catholic). The same can be said about Reader wanting to accept Natasha into their life. However, reader is still consuming Natasha the same way everyone else is by way of drooling and ogling Natasha in her outfit—this push and pull between consumption and connection is consistent throughout the rest of the part.

Make no mistake that both Natasha and Reader are still operating with walls intact. But between the last part and now, there’s moments where one peeks over the wall to see what might be waiting on the other side. As previously alluded to, Natasha is not the god. There’s a glimpse of that now since Nat has sought out reader in hopes that she will not be lead astray by putting her faith into reader.

I’m going to say something from left field: the scene where reader finds Natasha waiting outside of her classroom is reminiscent of the line in “From Eden” by Hozier.

I slithered here from Eden, just to sit outside your door.

However, Natasha isn’t waiting to prey on reader’s hospitality as the devil in disguise, she’s begging for it as a follower. Here, it’s expressly made apparent that Reader is the one being worshiped. I would even go as far to say that reader is the devil and Natasha is an angel.

Moving on, Reader is finally getting to know Natasha beyond the physical, uncovering the duality of Natasha bit by bit. Reader’s assumptions are shattered by the fact that Natasha wants to be a PT, something that requires a high degree of care and gentleness. On the flip side, Nat’s backup is to be a personal trainer, a person who pushes the limits of another. This is also demonstrated by Natasha’s change in demeanor when interacting with the rest of the world compared to how she is with Reader.

A final note for this sequence: going back to the motif of fire — it represents lust and passion…but it also destruction if it’s not properly controlled/contained….

Notes: Rose has a height kink. Also vans = gay. Neck = Vampires = Twilight. Rose has freckles? Only child! Cheek kiss oooh they’re going steady! - 🧊

Ding ding! We have a winner, people!! I feel like you might be inside my head, and it's kind of freaking me out? Let's dive in, big guy

As I said from part 1, the themes of sex being a Holy experience stay in my work. Worshipping someone, feeling the Holy ghost enter your body with every lingering touch, the heavens shining down on you with every time their lips touch your skin. Ascending to a new high with every orgasm. Tell me that's not a Holy experience. You can't, sorry!

Alcohol - tale as old as time. You said it best, crutch, veil, or catalyst? Ultimately, it depends on how you choose to act on it.

The fire shows not only the connection between the two, but also a telling sign of what's to come with their relationship. Blazing bright and hot right now, but will it soon burn out? Or will they work to keep it burning? Adding firewood and stoking the flames, resulting in a roaring fire? Or simply let it fizzle out, leaving the coals to cool and the ash turn to dust?

(Recovering Catholic absolutely sent me across the orbit.) But correct on all counts!

The peeking over the walls part - BEAUTIFUL! Neither of them seem to know how to move around or over their own walls, let alone into each other's. Although the cracks seem to be splitting farther open.

Chefs kiss and bonus points for the Hozier connection, I absolutely love that!

And there it is, people!! Playing along with the overall theme of this Holy Experience.

R is the Devil. Natasha is an Angel.

Thank you for noticing the change in demeanor between Nat with the world and with R! Only further proves the crumbling of her walls.

Notes: Do I have a height kink?? NEVER thought about that, will be thinking about it for the rest of the night wow. (Love Twilight, btw you're correct)

Oh, the neck. THE NECK! The neck 😩 I can't legally say how I feel about the neck. Know this - the feelings are STRONG!

Freckles? Hmmm. I wouldn't call them freckles.. I have a little over 10 little marks (sun spots? moles? unsure!) spread across my face, though, so very close!

Only child!