#thank you to people who are being nice to me

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It���s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[tarotbyjam24]

messages from your future spouse

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Masterlist \pick a cards

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️,shall we ? Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pile 1

Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beautiful .

Some people don't change no matter how hard you try.

But we can not simply sit and stare at our wonds forever .

You spread joy because you're joy that's what I admire most about you .

First love teaches us what love isn't .

It's better to feel the hurt of honesty then to live in a false comfort of lie .

The secret of life is to be obsessed with yourself and be kind to everyone around you.

Some days are just heavy .

Everything you lost will be replaced with something better.

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 2

You haven't met the best version of yourself yet don't give up

when you choose yourself everything around you will choose you too

remember you can start again over and over as often as you need

people don't cry because they're weak it's because they've been strong for too long

the little things ? little moments ? they aren't little

perhaps we should learn to love ourselves so loudly , it silences our insecurities

I love seeing you happy

it happened so that you could grow

you will forever be my always

do it for your future self

Pile 3

You can't go back and change the beginning but you can start where you're and change the ending

expect nothing appreciate everything

you can also comit injustice by doing nothing

be patient. Sometimes you've to go through the worst to get best

how many time can the same thing break your heart ? As long as you love it

find joy in simple things life will always be fulfilling

In the end, I realized the hurt never turned to hate. No matter how much my emotions led me to feel so. I never stopped loving people. I stopped trusting them.

The art of observing and not absorbing

Not liking me is fine, but making up lies to destroy my character is weird.

Keep it private until you know it's permanent

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 4

First love teaches us what love isn't .

Discipline is the strongest form of self love .

She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind

people talk about me behind my back and i just sit here like damn i got myself a fan club

It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations .

Forgive yourself for the mask you wore when you didn't feel safe enough to be yourself

YOU DON'T NEED EVERYONE TO love you, JUST A FEW GOOD PEOPLE

may every hour in your soul be golden, may it be filled with endless magic .

Vibes to carry through out the week

You're not sensitive. You're not overreacting. If it hurts you, it hurts you. Don't let anyone invalidate your feelings. Ever

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀 Bless you and have a nice day 🫶🏻

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[esote-rika]

Could I request Spencer with a really socially awkward reader(gn) who has to meet the team for the first time and just sort ends up hiding behind Spencer?

Feel free to ignore this if you're not up for it :)

Anon, thank you so much for this! I’m sorry it took a little long, but I hope you still enjoy it <3 Cute little drabble of Spencer being the best bf ever.

Contents: Mentions of alcohol, but otherwise, it’s just fluff!!! gn!reader.

Your hands are clammy when he takes them, a clear sign of your discomfort. Immediately, Spencer’s face softens, his features dappled pink and blue from the colorful lights of the bar. Neither of you drink, but his team is celebrating a case they successfully closed, and he’d mentioned it would be a good time to introduce you. The atmosphere is relaxed, after all, inhibitions dulled by alcohol and the knowledge of a job well done. 

For them, at least. You are operating under something entirely different. Nerves. Lots of it.

“You made it.” Spencer says brightly, before he wraps an arm around you and ushers you to their table. His team is all bright, welcoming smiles, and teasing remarks when they see you. You recognize them from the pictures, this group of people he’s come to know as his family. The cheeriest woman, Penelope Garcia walks up and gives you a big hug. Not expecting it, you stand there awkwardly, too busy wondering if you should return the gesture, but by the time you make up your mind, she’s already pulling away. 

Oops. You bite back a wince at your social blunder and manage a smile. 

“Spencer has told me all about you.” You say over the loud, thumping music. 

A chorus of replies. He spends all his time talking about you too, and You two are so cute, and I can’t believe Spence didn’t introduce you to us sooner! Lovely platitudes that you nod at. What exactly do you say to them beyond a thank you? Desperately, you wrack your brain for responses. Be witty, you chide yourself, charming. Make them like you.

But your words fail you in this moment, as they so often do. Small talk seems hollow, perfunctory instead of sincere, so you smile and nod politely as the comments continue around you. The more they go on about how it is to meet you, the more you seem to shrink into Spencer, smiling politely in response. You hope, desperately, that it's enough.

Once the initial round of introductions dies down, Spencer pulls you to a quieter table. The back of your neck is warm from all the attention, and you're worried his team may think you're being too clingy or antisocial. Surprisingly, his team doesn’t comment on it, moving on to get drinks and join the dance floor. Other people may have found it rude to retreat like this, but truthfully, you’re glad for the reprieve. 

Spencer’s hand is warm and heavy on your hip, pulling you tightly to his side. “Are you okay?”

You hum, nodding against his shoulder. “Your team’s nice.” 

“They are,” you feel his lips on your forehead, “But they can be a lot.”

You peak over his shoulder to look at the dance floor. Derek is in the middle of it with a few ladies, while JJ, Emily, and Penelope have their own little dance cluster. “They’re nice.” you repeat, “They just seemed excited.”

He chuckles, “Mhm, that’s because they’ve been wanting to meet you for weeks now.” 

You feel him pull back, and you have to fight back the urge to cling to him. He meets your gaze, brown eyes warm and glittering in the dim light. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not too overwhelmed?”

“I’m fine. I’m glad to have met them.”

He smiles, pleased that his reminders for his team had worked. He’d told them of your tendency to be awkward around new people and had asked them to accommodate it when they meet you. He’s just as nervous and eager for your introduction to be nice, but your comfort is of utmost importance to him. 

For a brief moment, he worried it wouldn’t work, but his team is gracious enough (and so excited over the fact that he has a relationship) that they’ve put on their best behavior and backed off immediately once they caught signs of your discomfort. You’re easy enough to read, and they’re highly trained profilers. 

“They already adore you.” he says, nose buried in your hair. 

You laugh, “You sure? I don’t know if I’ve made the best impression.”

“I’m sure.” his lips ghost across your hairline, “You weren’t even that bad. They’re used to so much worse.”

“Is that so?”

He nods, ducking down to press his lips to yours. “Need I remind you that they have to deal with me?”

Even more laughter escapes you, and you’re immediately put at ease, even more so than before. How could you not, when your boyfriend knows exactly what to say? Perhaps not to other people, but he’s so attuned to you and your needs that you just kiss him back in thanks.

[suzukiblu]

First 1k of the 5k I promised y'all as a thank-you for helping me out with that car insurance bill behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He’d cry a lot harder, probably, but–no, he wouldn’t mind. Like . . . literally zero percent would he mind . . . mind anyone doing that for him. Even if Red Tornado only smells like metal and wires and machinery and, like, a little bit of clumsy scenting from Traya and maybe an even littler, subtle bit of it from, like–Kathy . . . 

Kon feels like an asshole for thinking it, but a dude who is a literal machine and doesn’t even have a designation or pheromones having, like–having even estranged packmates when he doesn’t even . . . when he’s never actually . . . 

Even in Hawaii, he didn’t have a pack. Like–Rex and Roxy had their family pack, and Tana had her family pack, and Dubbilex is a null and totally uninterested in packing up with anybody, which sometimes some shitty part of Kon’s wondered if that’s, like–if that’s why Cadmus picked Dubbilex to be his stupid fake “chaperone” or . . . whatever. Because Dubbilex–Dubbilex wouldn’t ever get too–too– 

Kon’s pretty fucking positive that Dubbilex doesn’t really think of him the way he’s sometimes wished the guy would either. And Roxy–Roxy’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a sibling unless he counts Match, who literally thinks he’s just a shitty prototype and nothing else, but she wasn’t–she wasn’t his pack sibling or anything like that. And even if she had been, he doesn’t even know where she is now; hasn’t even seen her in months. More months than he even actually remembers it being, since he spent a real significant portion of that time, like–literally out of his mind on gross fucked-up amnesia drugs that made him literally feral, so . . . 

And it’s not like it’s not, like–public, that he’s back and currently working for Cadmus and rolling with Young Justice and all that. If Roxy or Tana or anybody wanted to find him . . . they could find him, if they wanted to. 

But they haven’t. 

He misses Hawaii so bad right now. Like . . . all the time, really. But especially right now. 

“Then I will do it,” Red Tornado says. It sounds the same exact way he just said it, like he’s just replaying a recording or something. Like he saved a copy of it the first time, because he was already planning to say it again. 

Kon is definitely gonna be mortified about this later, he thinks as he scrubs the sleeve of his jacket across his wet eyes. 

“Okay,” he manages. “Uh–okay. Uh. Thanks.” 

He–he could use more stuff to nest with, definitely, and if Red Tornado brings it he won’t have to leave his nest for it, and like . . . the food and drinks or whatever wouldn’t hurt either, obviously. He didn’t think to get anything like that ready while he was distracted looking for stuff with everybody’s scents to nest with and when the Super-Cycle offered him a nesting pit to just–when the Super-Cycle made him a nesting pit in itself to use–well, like. Then he hadn’t really cared, after that. Like . . . that had not been a thing he was worried about, after that. So . . . so if Red Tornado doesn’t mind getting him some of that stuff before he goes . . . wherever he goes to, like, hang out when he’s on his own, well . . . like, that’d be . . . that’d be . . . 

Nice, Kon admits to himself, though that’s embarrassing to think even when he’s already all overemotional and weird anyway. 

But–but it would be. Nobody’s . . . nobody’s gonna come “attend” him, or even just . . . just be here with him, so . . . so it’d be nice, if Red Tornado would . . . would get him a couple things, and he could . . . could pretend like . . . like somebody–like he’d had somebody who– 

Red Tornado he guesses does count as somebody who’d, like, “attend” him a little, but like . . . not like a packmate would. Like . . . in a pack, somebody does . . . “attend” people who’re presenting in it. Somebody–stays, at least. 

Kon guesses the Super-Cycle’s technically volunteered to do that, so like . . . so that’s already better than he thought he was gonna get. And he did find everybody’s scents–or at least, almos everybody’s scents and Robin’s blockers–so if Red Tornado gets him more stuff to nest with too . . . 

That’s–definitely better than he thought he was gonna get, yeah. 

“Is there anyone I will need to make sure the security measure will allow entry to the base?” Red Tornado asks, and Kon–startles, a little. 

“Uh–what?” he asks stupidly, not understanding what he means. What’s . . . ? 

Red Tornado tilts his head, very slightly. 

“To attend to you,” he says. “Did you invite anyone without prior security clearance, or are they a member of the team?” 

“I–they’ve got packs,” Kon says reflexively, too confused to bite it back. But . . . “Like . . . they’ve all got–packs. And, like–school and shit, anyway. I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t bug ‘em with this.” 

He doesn’t even know if . . . like, why even would they come, if he actually . . . 

Red Tornado’s expression doesn’t change, obviously. Like, his expression is literally physically incapable of changing. He doesn’t even adjust the tilt of his head or shift his center of balance or–anything at all, really. Doesn’t even make that electric humming fridge-compressor sound again. 

Kon suddenly feels like something about him just changed, though. 

“I see,” Red Tornado says. “Who will I need to provide security clearance for, then?” 

“Um,” Kon says, and tries not to cringe. “You–don’t. It’s–fine. Like, I don’t–it’s fine. I didn’t, like . . . call anybody, or anything. I’m just gonna, you know–crash for a day or two, and then like, I’ll put everything away and run the scent-scrubbers and everything. That’s, like–that’s all. I don’t need, like . . . ‘attended’, or whatever. Like–I’m not gonna bother anybody with that.” 

Red Tornado’s just looking at him with the exact same expression, but it still feels like something’s changed.

[olive-man]

omg i’d be so honored if you drew anything relating to this or any of my fanart of them (also idk how tumblr discussions and formatting works..i’m sorry if this is an improper way of replying)

early years

and more stuff down here

just doodles, and a very stressed out me. thought this was a perfect time to post since i’m actually going back to school tomorrow for my last semester of high school lol. happy late new years btw (oh and brony headcanon i got from @bonkerbuster69 . you are cooooollll)

[andcars]

[ 𝗕𝗘𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗗𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗦 ] Mondays in Monaco

premise. you're not someone who's quick to judge anything that journalists put out on the internet. after weeks of not being with lewis, a picture surfaces with lewis and some other woman. you're not abou to lose him over this.

tags #ㅤlight angst, implied sexual content, thoughts on cheating, (more like worries that your partner is cheating but it's not real), light miscommunication, (solved fairly quick) wc #ㅤ 1.6k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀MONDAYS IN MONACO

Dating one of the biggest men in sports isn’t easy. Surprisingly, it’s less about your title and your own achievements being overshadowed by being Lewis Hamilton’s girl and more about the mouths of journalists who run without mercy. It’s like none of them can take a break.

Days blur as you’re left alone in his penthouse. With his change to Ferrari, he has been spending more time in Maranello than in Monaco. That's not bad. He has his own job, you have your own. Both of you keep in contact daily, is that not enough? Distance doesn't kill love, people do.

At work, you get a decent salary while doing what you love. It's honest work and it takes your mind off complicated things like the media. While you're in the zone, your co-worker greets you by the doorframe. 

“Hey.”

You glance at him, “Hey.” Your hands work meticulously and your head is focused. However, the prolonged silence makes you glance back at your co-worker. “What?”

He shrugs, acting as if he isn't about to say something. That was only an act as he's already entering your space. “You're dating that one racer, right?” It's a breath of fresh air when people don't shove it into your face that you’re dating an icon.

“Yeah,” you nod, your body coming to a slow close, “What's up?”

“The, ah, Hamilton?”

“Yes,” you laugh, putting your hands away from your work, “what is it? You want an autograph?”

He reacts immediately, rolling his eyes with a defensive flail of his hands. “No, God,” he exclaims. “I can't get past the sports things.” He shivers as if it's such a bother to his life.  “But… apparently they caught him exiting some woman's yacht.”

This is news to you. “Yacht?” He's supposed to be in Maranello.

“Yeah. Look at this.”

You pat your hands with a towel, trying to take the excess clay off your fingers when you're handed the phone. To everyone's relief, he holds it for you instead. The screen displays a photo—clearly taken without their consent—of Lewis and another woman in a yacht. Both of them are in state of undress; Lewis wears nothing but swimming shorts, and sunglasses as his hair is tucked neatly in dreads; then, the mysterious woman in her bikini and blonde hair down to her chest.

It's… something. 

You're never one to assume things. It's harmful to the soul and the relationship. From the pictures, they could simply just be physically together. It could've been a late party last night—a night he didn't come home to you. He has his own life, it's not like you were one to go to all of his afterparties either. It's just something that never interested you.

You retell yourself, that people don’t kill the love, trust does.

“Thanks,” you tell him. There's a coil around your heart and you’re doing everything to get it off you. “But I’m sure I can talk to him about this.”

“Of course. I’m sorry if this seems like it's out of my business but…”

You nod, trying to see everything in the bigger picture. “I get it. I’d do the same if your boy was cheating on you too.”

That makes him laugh. “Oh, no, you're better than me. If you showed me that, I would've cut his dick off immediately.” He thinks again of what he said, taking in your calm demeanour. “Oh. Sorry.”

Travelling from Nice to Monaco is a peaceful event. One of the things you love about working in Nice is the ride there. It's a quick break from your personal life and to work. In the middle, nothing really matters. When you get home, you're pleasantly surprised to see Lewis already there. 

Limbo has ended when you exit your car. “Hey,” he smiles at you, preparing food for himself and you. Him with a meal tailored to his diet, and yours with your favourite dish.

“Hi.” Lewis was always sweet when he hadn't seen you in a while. It's like his way of making it up to you. “I thought you were still out in Italy?”

*Huh?” Food flew in mid-air for a second, his head having snapped to yours. “No. I came home last night and stayed at a friend's place.”

You try to tell yourself your tone isn’t as sharp as you thought it was as you ask, “You mean her yacht?”

He laughs, shaking his head. That didn't even faze him. That's good, you think. If he was cheating, he would've been sending warnings all over his body. Instead, he tells you, “She practically lives there. I don't think I ever seen her on the shores.”

“Huh.” You tap your fingers on the island, he glances at it “A bunch of paparazzi saw the two of you though.”

“Really?” He puts the utensils down and suddenly, you know the conversation has taken reigns. "We were pretty far off the shore,” he says, “I'm surprised they can capture us from there.”

“Great lenses.”

He turns the stove off. “Is everything okay?”

“I'm sorry.” It's getting to you. You don't *like” that it's getting to you. “What do you think, Lewis?”

The man smiles. There's an easy smile on his face but you can tell he's just as saddened as you are. “Sweetheart,” he calls, putting his hands on your arms and facing you to him, “tell me what's wrong. Please?”

What's wrong feels like a complicated question. However, it's a simple answer, “I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too,” he says, immediately knowing what to say.

“No, it's just…” there are words stuck that you aren't quite sure how to get out. You try anyway. “You've been busy with Ferrari, I know that. I didn't go into this relationship not knowing what to expect. But it's just hard to talk as much as before and then I see pictures of you in another woman's yacht half naked so I just…”

“Assumed?” he smiles, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes. “Is it so bad?”

It's not. He knows it's not. You don't like how he kisses you first instead of explaining. It's not like you're complaining in the long run though. When he pulls away, he's humming as he drums his finger over your collar. “Well, if I'm being honest, I would've reacted way worse if I saw you like that with someone else.”

You remember that similar words were said to you. “Everyone keeps saying that.”

“What?”

“That they're gonna react worse.”

“Because,” Lewis kisses your cheeks, your jaw, and presses a sharp one just on your collarbone “You're forgiving. You're patient. You're the smartest woman I know stuck with a guy who travels for a living. It's unfair because you should be with someone who's there for you for every part of your life—”

“Lewis—”

“I’m being serious here.” He is, you know it. “You deserve someone like that.” Your head rests on his palm, your eyes locking in and you can only see the love radiating from him “But I’m glad it's me. I'm not gonna be the perfect man that you deserve, but know that I'm gonna try my hardest.

“And baby, I want you to punch me for even looking like I was about to cheat on you.”

That pulls you out of it. “Oh, come on,” you scoff, “be serious here.”

“I'm serious. I would've beaten up the guy you were with if you were in my position.”

You think he's being silly. It barely matters when his hands go under your shirt. It's nothing too much—he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. It's the intimacy and the warmth of your skin that makes him want this. It's nice. You ask him, mind trying to come back to the conversation, “Then shouldn't that mean that I should punch your friend then?”

Lewis shakes his head, putting a kiss on your forehead, “No, no. It should be me who takes the blow. I would be the idiot who went for someone else when I had this angel in my home.”

“Mhm?” He hums back, his hand teasing just on your waistband and you let out a laugh. “And I'm not the idiot who goes for someone else?”

“No, my sweet angel. You would be the genius getting what you deserve.”

To say the truth, there was barely any doubt. The loneliness for the past few weeks has crawled up to you—he knows that. You're never shy about communicating your feelings. For days, you've pouted over text how you miss him. Now that he's here, you're enjoying his hands roam your body as eagerly as his lips do.

It's like he's learning you all over again. He knows your favourite places yet he massages and kisses them like it's the first time. He's experimenting. He wants to know how to make you feel good again. It's a testament to show how he knows your body more than you ever could. Your heart grows fond with each kiss, a devotion of love just on the other side of it.

When both of you are in bed, stomach and heart full, you realise something. Well, more like you’re contradicting something. 

You tell him, “It's not about what I deserve.”

“Hm?” He's snuggled beside you, hands under your shirt and relaxed. 

“You deserve… an eight championship. A good car. A better team. But it's not about what you deserve.” You turn to look at him but he's already looking at you. “It's about what you want and what you'll do to get it. For me, it's what I’ll do to keep it.”

That’s enough for you.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── i wrote this with my wrist hurting like HELL TT but more lewis hamilton on the go. i rlly like him but I've never written much on him. hope u like this! also reader here is very kind cuz I do not like messy relationships lol. it's my first fic for mondays in monaco (posted on tuesday 12am) so i hope you stay tuned for the next few fics!

[quarterlifekitty]

wifey here again with stepdad!Nik, so I think SD would insist on finishing college since she only has like a year left anyway and because she feels like she'll be able to get a job easier with a degree, she doesn't wanna be a burden. Nikolai ofc lets her finish college, it keeps her busy while at home, settling in nicely to their house. He takes care of her every need, and slowly starts to convince her that she doesn't owe him anything, she's his wife now, or soon to be at the very least. All she needs to do is stay home and worry about their little one. Anytime she has doubts about how much he wants her and wants to provide for her she gets reminded thoroughly. It's when SD's bump is getting noticeable that Nik really steps it up. "What if we both miss the important moments?" and SD eventually is like "yeah, okay, but if it ever becomes a burden I'll get a job" and Nik is real proud of himself. SD also becomes very needy, in just the way Nik loves, she wants to be with him as much as possible and needs help a lot because hormones are fucking with her. And she definitely thanks him plenty for his help whenever she can. Bonus NikPrice x SD reader John decides to visit Nik and his new bird since on their last mission Nikolai wouldn't shut up about her and he immediately gets why when he sees SD, she's so sweet and nurturing and she looks gorgeous all round with Nik's kid, stays a few nights and gets drunk one night and jokingly (sorta) tells Nik he'd love to put the next one in her and Nikolai just hums with a smile "why not?" and reader is suddenly being flirted with by her fiance/husband's friend. Is real worried about it cause she likes it and guility goes to Nik who is 1. Very pleased by her honesty and 2. reassures her and tells her that he's okay with it if she is. (Totally wasn't his plan to get his two favorite people together so he could have them both, nope, that's totally not why he raved about her to John and not one other soul. Mmhm)

Also im really sorry if once again this doesn't make sense, stress has got me by a chokehold lately and its making my brain bad lol

Ooooooh wifey you are killing me. Isn’t that the perfect solution, though? You’re so worried about being a burden, let’s bring in another source of income!!

You know. Maybe it’s kinda degrading. But I totally imagine Nik comes up with little tasks for her. Let’s be real, it’s so easy— he saw what her mother was like, he can see how starved she is for approval, it practically blinds her. Things like “I want us to get a new car with some more space before the baby comes— can you research what models are best for family? You have a better mind for things like that than me,” he says with an almost sheepish smile. You’re practically wagging your tail with excitement— and you just look so happy when you present all of your work and he seems so pleased with you.

Also, in a bit of darker move, I can imagine if you’re not as into John as all that— they come up with a story. They say that John wants to have a baby of his own, but he’s not married, and he wants to have a kid before he’s too old and his career gets in the way of romance. So he would love for you to be like a surrogate for him. You’ve done so well with this first pregnancy, and you’re still so young— plus! John would be willing to pay, so it’d be like you’ve got your own income to help out!

The only thing is that John believes in natural conception. And he wants to live with you both during the pregnancy to help out. And he doesn’t actually plan on leaving once you have his kid. And Nik knows how sensitive and caring you are— when you confess to him your doubts about giving the baby up for good once it’s born, he comforts you. Of course he’ll talk to John about it, milaya, he’s sure they can come to an agreement.

[marzipanandminutiae]

I never fully understood your annoyance to corset misinformation being spread around, until I went today to an exhibition in a museum about female fashion history, and of course the corset was presented as an item of torture and female repression which we were thankfully saved from by people in the 20th century, thank god, and I wanted to personally go argue with the curator and historian (the exhibition was nicely organized and not all of it was misinformed, but the areas about the 16th to 18th century definitely made me almost scream). It also made mention of the "many illnesses and health problems" all corsets caused to women. So yeah, it was an experience

Yeeeeep.

It's incredibly pervasive- this kind of idea about historical women's clothing, and its sister ideas like Nobody Can Function In Long Skirts Ever, are incredibly common even in the field with professionals who should know better. I've literally been talking to a curator who specialized in clothing history and heard her say "of course, these clothes WERE bad for your health" as a foregone conclusion (she didn't elaborate further and I didn't want to step on toes but in hindsight I should have pushed back a little).

And in the case of that exhibit, they're apparently ignoring the fact that corset-like garments persisted in western fashion up to the 1980s, but as the pure shapewear they believe the earlier examples to be. They may have been called "girdles" or what have you, but women were wearing something around their midsection for no purpose besides body-shaping with remarkable consistency until about 40 years ago. My mother and grandmother remembered wearing them. They just lacked the functional uses of earlier corsets (besides, at times, holding stockings up). So how's that LiberationTM story looking for you now?

I swear, when fashion starts looking more familiar to them and less alien, they just start assuming it was all the same underneath. And these are museum professionals. SMH, indeed.

[beautifullilacsky]

It was late, and he had to go to work early again tomorrow. Though, when he mentioned that he was trying to fall asleep after asking me if I am tired, I wanted to help in a way. So, I offered him a massage. Little did I know it wouldn't help him sleep soon at all. We started talking more, and at one point we talked about which parts of my internship I enjoyed, and which I did not. Based on the fact that I am enjoying the designing part, he thought it could be a nice idea to look into jobs in that region. Yes, he was right; I told him about the job that I found interesting; UI/UX designer. I explained it a bit, and he said that the back-end part sounded more like programming. Then, I hesitated for a moment but decided that this is the exact moment to say it. I guess I had been a bit scared. A bit scared he'd find it useless, or out of character, or ... I don't even know. Anyway. Now it was time to spill how I figured that for (a part of) this job, programming might be needed, or a plus. So, that is what I've been learning for the past 2 weeks. He asked what exactly I was learning, so I explained the app and the languages that I was working on. He fairly noted a couple of times that I was getting shy, which, I was. He said I really didn't have to be, asking me to come lay besides him again. "Are you doing it because of me? Or because of the CC thing?", I was happy to assure him that no, I did not learn this for him. He thanked me for telling him about what I've been doing these days. I thanked him that eventho he knows that people aren't using these coding languages, he didn't demotivate me. According to him, it is really good to know the basics. I don't remember the exact order, but I do know he told me I was cute uncountable amount of times, accompanied with many back kisses. Also quite a few "I like you"'s.

"You know, if you want, you can use my desk or we can get you another monitor". I hesitated a bit, being my comfizone self who is afraid the double screen will be so good I'll not want to live without it. He said he can only offer, and I said it'd actually be nice. "Okay, we will look into it tomorrow afternoon then". He also kept his appropriate distance, while showing me his support, by saying that if I had any questions, I knew who to come to. Yeah. If anyone can answer my questions, it's him. Mt smart smart boy.

Anyway. I thanked him for listening and I apologized for keeping him awake for long. He didn't mind it at all. Instead, he was grateful. He went on to touch me. "Hey, boyfriend, have you looked at the clock?". He again, didn't mind. He was awake, and so was I. If I wanted him to stop, he said he would, but I honestly didn't. After he went down on me for a while, I pulled him back up. He kissed my neck and asked me if I was okay. I was, but I felt the time pressure, making it harder for me to reach that point, putting even more pressure on, etc etc. "Oh no. You don't have to feel pressured; all you should do is enjoy. We have all of the time in the world, okay? Take all the time you need. Really, don't feel pressured", he assured me multiple times. I asked for teamwork, which allowed him to softly tell me more loving words, such as saying he liked me, how I was hot, and how I was being a good girl. After I finished, he asked me if he should stop, and that I could say "no" to the question if it felt good. He sucked on the skin of the area between my neck and collarbone as I came for the second time. That was insanely intense. He already thought I did the first time, but now I actually did start crying. He held me, making comforting shushing noices, "go ahead, let it all out. It's okay, you can cry".

A lot of back kisses, sweet words and a tiny bite later, I fell asleep into his arms. Sjeesj, he made me feel SO SO insanely safe and loved. He said all of the right things, and knew exactly what was going through my brain, using that info to calm me down. He owns my heart, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I am so sure that it is safe in his hands.

[judesmoonbeauty]

A Day With Jude Jazza: Chapter Two "13:00 Working at Raven & Lunch"

TW: Weight discussion. Idk if this really needs it or not, but I added it just in case.

Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

I’m working hard at Raven today too —

(I’ve been working non-stop, but I wonder if I’ll be able to finish this….)

The moment I gulped at the mountain of documents in front of me…..

Jude: Do ‘em perfectly.

He showed up and said that, so I stopped what I was doing and puffed my cheeks.

Kate: Isn’t there some kind of reward for your girlfriend who works so hard?

Jude: What kinda reward?

Kate: Hmm, like taking me out for lunch…?

Jude: ….Tch.

Then his finger came up to my forehead,

Kate: Ouch!

I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut because of the force of the forehead flick —

(…..It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.)

Opening my eyes, he let out an annoyed sigh and turned around.

Jude: Let’s make tracks.

Kate: What?

Jude: Lunch, let’s go.

Kate: Coming!!

Kate: It’s my first time coming to this restaurant, but it’s super delicious.

Ellis: Good, I’m glad you’re happy Kate.

While eating a tasty meat-dish and chatting with Ellis,

Jude: ……

I heard the sound of a fork being put down next to me, and when I looked over he had stopped eating, leaving the fatty part untouched.

Kate: That’s such a waste.

The plate was silently brought to me, as if telling me to eat, so I ate the fatty portion.

After that, Jude made an exasperated look.

Jude: You’ll gain weight if ya eat like that each ‘n every time.

(Actually, I have been a bit worried about that recently….)

Kate: Isn’t it because you’re handing your plates over to me, Jude?

Jude: Didn’t say t’eat it.

Jude: Yer the one sayin’ it’s a waste not t’eat it.

(I can’t deny that…..)

Jude: ‘N ya eat more sweets than me’, innit?

Ever since we started dating, I felt like it was a waste to leave any of the fat and sweets on the plate,

So when I look over, the plate gets closer to me, and before I know it, I end up eating it.

Ellis: But I think it’s nice to see Kate eating it deliciously.

Kate: Ellis……

Ellis was sitting across from me and kindly smiles.

Feeling a bit happy, I brought the dessert to my lips without hesitation.

That’s when Jude’s fingers stroke my thigh under the table —

Kate: Urk!

Jude: Ya really have put on weight, haven’tcha?

His warped smile irritated me, so I lightly pinched his hand.

Kate: This is what I do to people who say such things.

Jude: Ha, don’t hurt none.

His hand let go of my thigh, and he took a bite of the dessert,

Jude: Ya can work back the weight gain.

This sentence translation has been updated. Previously, I rendered it as, “Work back the weight gain.” However, い is used at the end of the sentence (which can soften what’s said), so I updated it to the line above because the other sentence sounded too blunt imo. Sorry, I’m still learning.

He didn’t seem to like the sugary taste, and immediately put down his fork.

Jude: Got the perfect job for ya.

Kate: What is it?

Jude: Deliver all o’ the finished documents to the department heads in the company.

Kate: That much?!

Thinking back to all the documents left on my desk, I felt overwhelmed.

Jude: Kate.

Kate: Yes, [MUMPH]

Bite by bite, he feeds me his dessert.

Kate: Wai-, Jude, Ju-

As soon as I gulped down the last mouthful, he flashed a wicked smile.

Jude: Ya ate desserts for two, so ya can work fer that much, yeah?

Kate: —You DEMON!

Jude: Ha!

As we glared at each other, I heard Ellis’ heartwarming voice,

Ellis: Hehe, Jude and Kate, you both look like you’re having fun today too.

Jude & Kate: Ain’t havin’ fun. • I’m not having fun.

And so, the lunch break ends.

[Event Master list] [Next - ⏱♡ 16:00 - Negotiations at Twilight]

I want to be spoiled and fed by Jude too.......

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

If you wish to be added to my translations tag list, and are +18 YO, then please comment below! If you wish to be removed, please do the same.

Tag list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne

[hellothisisangle]

can I give Cae the wettest sloppiest kiss all over his body

He isn’t hiding how much he likes it very well 💦

More backlogged asks below! My partner and I have been horrendously sick with the worst case of food (what I suspect was shrimp) poisoning this weekend. It left me in the fetal position in our shower for hours, an activity normally only reserved for the worst hangovers. But I’m doing much better now ✌️

I have a problem with picking only one romanceable partner in annnny game 😬 (DA, Mass Effect, BG3, Cyberpunk, Witcher, Stardew, etc.) I will almost always download a mod to do a full poly run on a first playthrough. But this time in our co-op Stardew playthrough I picked Emily. I like the bonus parrot 🦜

Go ahead! I’m flattered 😳 I took AP art in highschool and if tiny Angle from back then knew that another student was inspired by their stuff they’d have heart palpitations

Very nice reco, thank you!!

Im sorry 😔 I’ve been burned so many times by social medias trying to post spicy stuff even when it’s cropped

I truly feel bad for disappearing without notice, but honestly there was a point in my life when I really needed to just remove myself completely from being online. I would have done things differently if I was the person I am now, y’know hindsight and all. I’m just glad there are still people who care ❤️

[shadow211e]

Justin at been watching her from the shadows as she waited for him to arrive. She was so nervous, but already noticing how guys were starting to glance at her as they walked by. Justin had given her the earrings to wear for their date. He was smirking at how her body looked now. The earrings had given her a hot slutty body, the dress she picked out was showing off her tits and thighs, she clearly didn't even really realize what she was picking for herself. The simple girl was so boring before but now she was going to be his. "Izzy, so glad you decided to come." "Thanks, look you promised one date and you'd stop harassing my boyfriend." "Of course." "You look stunning." "Thanks," she said not knowing with the magic earring he gave her changed into a hot slutty one. The attention from guys was getting her horny.

He walked to her and she stood up, he leaned in to hug her and then went to plant a kiss on her cheek, she turned her head and he felt her lips push against his. She blushed as she pulled back. "Oh god I'm sorry," he said. She giggled "no that was my fault. I thought you were going to kiss me and I moved, and I guess that caused the kiss." "Well it was really nice." "Thanks," she blushed.

The date was going nicely, Justin was admiring how much Izzy was changing right in front of him.

Justin was driving her home, when he passed his house, he pointed it out "anytime you wanna come over and hang out, that's my place." She looked "why not now, we don't have to rush me home right?" "Of course not," he smirked knowing she was becoming his. He pulled into the driveway and led her into the house. It wasn't too much longer for the two of them to end up in his room. Her hands were all over his. He looked at her "what about your boyfriend?" "Why is he here? Are you going to tell him?" "Never." "So stop worrying," she said as she pulled off her top, exposing her round tits. They started going at it, ending up fucking until like 3 or 4 in the morning. She put on a simple black top and some of his sweats as he dropped her off at her house. She kissed him deeply, "can't wait for the next time." "Oh?" "If you don't wanna that's fine." "Nah babe, but how about you stick with the loser, I love fucking a cheating slut like you." "God that's fucking hot, I didn't even think about that, I was gonna end it, but your idea is fire." "See you soon babe."

No one at school really noticed the change in Izzy, the magic of the earrings helped with that. They all always talked about how she was so hot and kind of slutty but always was seen "dating" one of the nerdiest guys in school. She would make a show about loving him so much but a few people wondered. Only a very small select group of friends, girls she never talked to before she was changed but now who she thought were her closest bitches, knew the secret relationship she was having with Justin. None told anyone out of fear. Izzy was known from being a bit of a ruthless bitch. Hot and ruthless and feared at school. She sat passenger princess in her boyfriend's car, looking out at Justin getting into his truck. She smirked and her boyfriend asked what was up. She looked at him "Look at that asshole trying to compensate with that lifted truck." "Yeah well, he hasn't been tormenting me for the last few months so I could care less what he has been up to." "That's good," she said as all she could think about was the text she had sent to Justin and how tonight she would be bouncing on his cock in the bed of the truck. The plans were she would excuse herself to the bathroom at her anniversary date with her boyfriend and go fuck him in the parking lot, and come back to the date saying her stomach was bothering her to be brought home by her boyfriend let Justin's cum leak all over his car seat by time she got home. Justin would show up later to fuck her the rest of the night after ruining the nice dinner plans her loser boyfriend had. The thought excited her a lot.

[lesbianherald]

so i know you're trying to process Coming Home being the top fic now but bestie are you aware that you hit 30k kudos?

ok. ok ok okok.

As a warning, I'm going to get really weird and personal here.

I got these this morning. Just like with the last one I have no idea what to do with this or how to appropriately deal with it lmao but to everyone who has been so nice - thank you. so much? this is a number so unfathomable to me that I've been trying to sit with it all day and simply cannot process it as real.

I don't want to care about numbers. I want to be super cool and chill and above that. but this is a really big one. and I think it also is really reflective of how big this community has grown. I've decided it would be odd not to acknowledge it.

This is one of the craziest, kindest, most lovely things that has ever happened to me. It feels so incredible and validating to know my work reached some people. That is quite literally all I want to do with my life. And now it feels like I might be able to with my own stuff. But its a lil deeper than that too. All the comments and support have genuinely been such an amazing balm during a really dark time in my life.

At the start, this fic was always a method of escapism for me. I've been under so much pressure in my real life. I'm in a really weird, really competitive transitional point. everything I write irl may make or break the rest of my career. It is a type of pressure I'm incredibly grateful and privileged to have, but still stressful nonetheless.

But then, as i was writing this fic, it became way more of a lifeline. Not to get too personal, and idk if people paid attention to my end notes, but if you did you'll note I fell victim to the ao3 curse last October in a really big way. I lost a dear friend of mine very suddenly.

Starting coming home was a way for me to write something just to write it, knowing that I could be myself and do whatever I want and just throw shit at the wall without worrying about anything. after my friend passed away, the escapism of it became that much more valuable. (btw I would not post about it were I not in a much better place with it so don't worry about me <3)

I feel like maybe it's important at this point to explain the meaning of all the support because I've genuinely been unable to express it in a way I find appropriate. every piece of art every sweet comment etc. etc. helped get me through this really weird, sad, shocking time. As "cringe" as it might seem... fandom and fanfic can be really meaningful, powerful, and connective.

All this being said. coming home was definitely released in the right time for this to happen. A multichapter released right before and during season 2 as well as in the months after? Like. It was primed for this a bit (not intentionally but still) So many fics that get posted now deserve the same amount of love and support.

I really hesitate with numbers. sharing them, abiding by them, gaining value from them. I also get nervous about how people will feel entitled to treat me because of them. But this is so insane it feels weird not to say a bigger thank you.

[inkedinfusions]

𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 | geto suguru chapter 1

⊱𖤓⊰ | In which you, a thief, meet the lost prince of the kingdom.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . ⚜️ .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

next–⊱

𝟎𝟏 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐭

chapter word count: 4.1k

content warnings: normal warnings for the tangled movie lol

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TWIN!!!!! He is ooc in this because he isn't racist ☺️ Anyway, I'm going to take this opportunity to thank P for not complaining when I send them Geto edits and when I rant about jjk. New chapter comes out tomorrow! 

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 your hair as you gaze upon the kingdom below you, the morning sun bathing the colorful houses all around. It is by all means a perfect day; the sky is clear, the air is warm, and you are about to be one of the richest people in the land. 

“Hey!” exclaims the voice of your partner, snapping you out of your daydreams. “The view is nice and all, but the longer we stay here, the higher the odds we get caught.”

“Since when have you ever cared about getting caught?” you ask, walking towards where Satoru stands. “I can recall at least five times where we almost got busted because of your idiotic tendencies.”

“But my dear Y/n, what you don't understand is that I have transformed into a new person,” he says. “My recent sabbatical really helped me ground myself in this–”

“You mean when you got caught and had to serve time until I helped you escape?”

“As I was saying! I am nothing but a law-abiding citizen, bound by the values of this kingdom.”

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard,” you say, tying the rope around your torso. “And I deal with you daily.”

You open the panel that sits directly on top of the stand that contains your objective. You scoff at the placement, wondering what dumb soul decided to compromise the circlet’s security with multiple removable panels. Still, if this piece of wood hadn’t been here, your job would be all the more difficult. And most normal people do not account for thieves on the roof.

“Yeah, keep talking and I’ll drop you,” Satoru says, gripping the rope to which you are attached. 

You choose to simply stick out your tongue rather than retort, for you are already being lowered into the hall and you’d rather not alert the guards prematurely. After you had the circlet, all was fair game. 

You would never say this out loud, but you are very thankful it was Satoru who botched one of your firsts jobs when you were teenagers. You were nimble, too gangly to steal anything big, but smart enough to manage on your own. Then Satoru entered the picture and something clicked. 

The boy could have chosen to leave you behind and escape himself, but instead he chose to create a distraction so you could escape too. You had left that job with no valuables except for a new partner in crime and a change in name, courtesy of Satoru.

The story went like this. In the middle of the job you both had bickered over who takes what, him calling you Starlight when you refused to give out your name, you calling him Six Eyes when he tripped over a bump in the carpet in the middle of the hall. This had continued until guards started to pursue you, and in the confusion, had christened you with those names on your new and shiny wanted posters. 

Those didn’t come until much later, when both you and Satoru were rising fast through local murmurs, and he threw a fit when your insult for him had taken the form of his identity. You didn’t mind, as you were completely comfortable with leaving Y/n behind, with only Satoru calling you that as a result of exchanging names in a show of trust. Which takes you to the situation at hand. 

The throne room you are being dropped into is lavishly decorated, full of banners with the royal crest, a circle that contains four swirling lines that converge into the small circle in the middle, symbolizing the sun. They are painted gold and a dark purple, almost blue, which combines with the stained glass windows that line the walls. 

You are carefully lowered by Satoru until you reach the stand placed in front of the thrones, where a royal circlet stands, the key to your newfound lifestyle. It is gold, lathered in jewels that range from dark amethysts to indigo sapphires, but it is surprisingly light when you pick it up. 

A guard sneezes and you get the wonderful idea to mess with them a little bit. Satoru couldn’t fault you; you were only following his example. 

“Bless you,” you say politely as you tug on the rope to signal Satoru to lift you, circlet already in your satchel.

“Thanks,” the guard says, unbothered. You snort when he whirls around moments later, managing to catch only the soles of your boots as you make your escape on the roof. 

You laugh as the guard shouts at you to wait, but you’re already sliding down the walls of the castle, making a quick getaway through alleyways and unused roads. You pivot on a corner, grabbing Satoru by the arm so he isn’t caught unprepared for the sharp turn, and he hoists you up to a roof when all the roads are blocked by guards. 

“So much for not getting caught, huh?” Satoru shouts at you while you make your escape to the nearby forest. 

“That’s my bad,” you respond, a grin betraying your lack of guilt. “Besides, look how productive we’ve been! It's what, eight? And we are already set for life!”

Satoru rolls his eyes as you dart through the foliage, amusement evident in the creases of his face. “I never want to hear you complain about my recklessness again.”

You shove him with a smile, when two posters nailed to a tree catch your eye. If the faces didn't spoil it, the names sure do; Starlight and Six Eyes, wanted dead or alive. Now, personally, you would prefer to not be caught at all, but it was nice that alive was still an option. You just have one grievance. 

“Geez. Does my hair look that frizzy to you?” you ask Satoru, ripping the poster of the tree and holding it next to your face for comparison. He shrugs, to which you call out his name with force.

“What? I didn’t draw that,” he says. “Why are you mad at me?” 

“Oh, it's easy for you to say,” you answer, ripping up his poster and waving it around. “I guess the illustrators must have a crush on you or something, because this looks like–”

“Like the real me? Thank you very much, it's genetics.”

“No dumbass, like a weird, exaggerated fantasy of a fairy tale prince,” you say.

Satoru snorts. “Please, as if a prince would ever affiliate himself with us.”

“True. Hey, aren’t those the Curses?” you ask, pointing to another poster depicting two guys, one with an eyepatch and another covered in stitches. “I didn’t know they escaped.”

“Oh shit, really?” Satoru grimaces. “All the more reason we need to lay low. I doubt they’ve forgiven us for that little stint we pulled at the port.”

“No shit, you nearly decapitated the guy–!” 

You are interrupted by the neigh of a horse, and when you whirl around you can see the head of the royal guard charging towards you and Satoru. You are quick to stash your poster in your satchel and to follow him deeper into the forest, dodging arrows as they are fired from crossbows. 

The guards do not slow down, and their horses only seem to get closer to you by the second, so you send a quick glance to Satoru and you both nod. He pivots left and you pivot right, buying a few seconds of confusion from your entourage. 

You’ll find him again—you always do—but in moments like this, crucial seconds can make the difference. An added bonus is the way one of you will help the other if they get caught, although now that your target was the royal palace and not some rando’s house you doubted your punishment would be something as simple as jail time. 

So you sprint through the forest, up hills and around spiky bushes as you try to lose your pursuers. And of course, with your rotten luck, the head of the guard has decided you’re the bigger threat, being the one with the satchel where the circlet is stashed, so he is now after you instead of Satoru. 

You hear the horses neigh just as you slide underneath a fallen trunk, barely dodging arrows meant for you. A stray vine almost makes you trip, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins replenishes the air in your lungs fast enough for you to keep running as fast as you can. 

Your eyes dart around, looking for anything that could stop at least the horses from pursuing after you. You weren’t confident in winning against them, but you could totally outrun the guards on foot. There, in the distance, a tree stands tall in the middle of your path, blocking off the free space at its sides.

You grin, grunting when you manage to jump through its branches, before you resume your sprint. You are tempted to let out a whoop, although all your hopes are crushed away when you glance back and notice the chief is still hot on your trail. 

Somehow, with the rush of adrenaline still in your blood, you manage to climb up a tree on the edge of the foliage. The chief doesn’t have time to think when you lunge at him from the tree, effectively knocking him off his horse and taking it for your own. 

You let out a gloating laugh, which is quickly extinguished when the horse stops dead on its tracks. It turns to look at you, and its eyes shine weirdly in the sun, making its pupils seem almost golden colored while its white pelt turns almost rainbow where the sun hits it.

“Go,” you say with urgency. “Come on, lets go–”

The horse cuts you off when his—his?—eyes zero in on your satchel, and he starts doing strange twirling movements to both get you off and grab it, somehow knowing the circlet is hidden there. His eyes dart from it to you for a moment, lunging for it at the same time you try not to lose your equilibrium. 

“Wha—Hey! Stop it!” you exclaim as the horse starts to twirl and jump and move forward. It is in one of those movements that the satchel flies away from your hands and into the cliff up front. 

You exhale when it is caught by a strangely large branch that stretches out into nothingness, and from there on, it's a battle between you and the horse to get to it first. Satoru would mock you if he could see you right now, something about fighting your equal or such leaving his mouth as he struggles to maintain his composure. 

But this horse plays dirty. It chews the edges of your pants, trips you, anything to bring you down. You use your nimbleness to elude the majority of his attacks, but just as you are about to reach the satchel, the branch cracks and snaps, sending both of you plummeting down to the forest below. 

You scream as you fall down, losing your grip of the branch when a rock from the cliffside splits it in half. You grunt when you land on the grass, managing to roll off what could be grave injuries, before quickly getting on your feet and on the move. That horse would not give up, so you either needed to regroup with Satoru or find a place where you could lay low. 

Thuds alert you before you see the horse again, so you duck on the side of a rock, crouched in between it and a wall covered in vines, and wait for him to walk away. You hold your breath as he somehow loses track of your scent and heads to the other side, maybe in search of its rider. 

You straighten up when he leaves, walking backwards in order to maybe grab some vines and climb the wall. Only that the wall is not really a wall. 

You yelp when you fall through, but your instinct makes you step inside the hidden cave when the sounds you made signal the horse of something in the vicinity. You watch as he moves around, his figure easily distinguished by the shadow he puts off against the vines. Your shoulders tense, but this time he leaves and you think it's for good. 

“Why did I–?” you ask yourself when you check your satchel and notice the wanted poster next to the circlet. You shrug and stuff it back down, heading deeper into the cave. But like the wall not being a wall, the cave is not a cave, and so you walk towards the light, expecting a small clearing or a skylight. 

You couldn’t be more wrong when you finally come face to face with the view, stealing what little breath you had left.

The valley surrounded by mountains is lush with green, multiple small ponds and grass patches and trees dotting it at random. In the end there is a waterfall, and the sound of water flowing calms you down, but even that can’t compare with the true star of the scenery. 

A magnificent tower stands tall in the middle of it all, with vines climbing all over its foundations, hit just the right way by the sun that peeks from above. It is beautiful, yes, but also the perfect place to hide. 

You dash across the valley, running side to side with the river flowing down from the waterfall. You take out stray arrows that had somehow found their way to your satchel—stashed by Satoru probably, as his idea of a prank—and manage to climb up the wall of the tower, using them as leverage to get you up. 

You grunt as you do this, lamenting that having your partner with you would probably make it easier, but you press on, seeing the window—not the door because of course it couldn’t have one. Noo, everything just had to be difficult—and just so managing to throw your body over it with your last whispers of strength.

You close the shutters with a bang, finally having time to catch your breath. Ha! you think. “I’d like to see you climb that,” you murmur with a grin, not even perplexed by the fact that you are beefing with a horse. Then you feel a quick flash of pain on the back of your skull and everything goes black. 

You are rudely woken up by a weird sensation in your ear, making your eyes snap open as you shudder. Chills run through your body as you notice you are tied with a weird ass rope to a chair, which, if you didn’t know better, is reminiscent of black, ebony hair. 

It can’t be hair though because a, it is not possible for someone’s hair to be that long, and even if they didn’t cut it their whole lives, it wouldn't be as silky. And b, because hair doesn’t change colors when light hits it, and this strange black fiber is interrupted at times by golden strands that turn black again when it shifts in place.  

You follow the rope—hair?—with your eyes, until your surroundings get too dark for you to distinguish it, only catching glimpses of gold when it shuffles. Okay, pause. Shuffles?

“What the fuck?” you ask out loud, breaking the silence you had found yourself in.

“Struggling… struggling is pointless,” a man’s voice answers from the darkness, prompting you to look in its direction. “This is not your turf,” he continues, which only makes you more confused. Is he chiding you for trespassing his home?

“Look, uh, sir,” you start, spinning a lie as fast as you speak. “I’m just a weary traveler–”

“I don’t believe you,” the voice cuts you off, and the owner’s clothes rustle as he stands, coming into the light. “Who are you and how did you find me?”

You are momentarily stunned by him. He looks about your age, with a deep indigo vest over a long sleeved cream shirt. His pants are the color of burnt umber, held in place by a lighter brown belt. But his clothes are nothing compared to the man itself. 

Maybe it's your taste in people, but even Satoru cannot compare with him. His eyes are the color of deep purple, swirling with galaxies in its iris, framed by long, black eyelashes. His face is as sculpted as some of the most impressive sculptures you’ve ever seen, and his eyebrows frame his features perfectly, black like his hair. 

But his hair is not pure ebony either. You note that it is the same thing that is binding you to the chair, proving right your earlier supposition of it being hair. Now that you know its hair, it's all the more interesting. It's black and gold and everything in between, and where the lights hit the top of his head, it seems to glow. 

“Find you?” you ask confused after a beat. “I didn’t—are you on the run too?”

“On the run?” he repeats, eyes narrowing. “So you are a criminal then.”

“Okay, first,” you say, extending your pointer finger, “criminal is a hurtful label and totally not true–”

“So this wanted poster isn’t yours then? Starlight?” 

He waves a crumpled up paper around, and you catch a glimpse of the same poster you had ripped from the tree earlier. 

“That's not mine…” you immediately deny, trailing off when you realize you don’t know his name.

“Suguru,” he says. “Don’t wear it off.”

“Well, Suguru,” you say, “if you could just graciously let me explain—Wait, where did you get that? That was in—” You curse mentally when you notice your satchel isn’t with you anymore, wildly looking around the room you find yourself in. “Hey! That was in my satchel! What did you do to it?”

“I hid it,” Suguru answers, a small grin finding its way to his face. “Somewhere you’ll never find it.”

You scan the room with your eyes, your brain automatically registering any and all places, both obvious and not, where the satchel could be stashed. In the corner of your eye you notice a strangely placed pot, which, combined with the guy’s apparent lack of common sense, tells you it's the perfect hiding place.

“It's in the pot, right?” you dead pan, gesturing to the pot with your head. 

You hear a clang and everything goes black again. 

“Ow!” is the first thing you grumble when you regain consciousness again. “Keep going and I’ll have no brain cells left, princess.”

“I am neither a princess nor a girl,” Suguru says, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you respond. “Where then, is my satchel?”

“Now it's somewhere you’ll never find. But no matter,” he continues. “The real question here is what do you want with my hair?”

“Your hair?” You let out a small, unbelieving laugh. “Believe me, the only thing I want with your hair is to get out of it. Literally,” you finish, gesturing to your binded wrists as a way to emphasize your point.

He raises an eyebrow, like he somehow can’t accept that you aren't here to steal his hair. Wow, it sounds ridiculous just thinking about it. He circles you with his weapon of choice, an old pan, walking in and out of your field of vision. What weird hermit’s house had you broken into? 

“You don't… want to sell my hair?”

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” you say. “Look, I was in a hurry and in need of a place to stay. I saw a tower, I climbed it, and now I’m here. End of story.”

Suguru looks you up and down, weighing your words now against the obvious lies you told him at the beginning. “You’re being genuine,” he finally says. 

“No duh,” you answer, recoiling when he points the pan at you and a small lizard stands on its edge, glaring at you with its slimy eyes. You freeze, following its movements with your eyes when Sugure takes the pan back, retreating to the darkness. 

He turns his back to you, slightly slouching down to talk with… is that the lizard? On his shoulder? Man, this place is just getting weirder and weirder by the second. He mumbles, and you only manage to catch truth and strangely fangs.

“Okay then, Starlight,” he says. “I’d be willing to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes. A deal.”

You watch as Suguru climbs the fireplace, your chair coming dangerously close to toppling over when he moves his hair to shift you in his direction. Your eyes are now more or less used to the lack of light, so you use that movement to look around. The walls of the tower are completely covered in paintings, ranging from people doing various things to multiple objects strewn about. 

“This,” he says, revealing a mural covered by a curtain, “is what I want to see.”

The scene is that of a night sky framed by a forest, with who you assume to be Suguru perched on top of a tree. The night sky is filled with lights and you quickly recognize what it is he is referring to. 

“You mean the lantern thing they do for the prince?” you ask.

“They’re lanterns?” he questions, looking back at his paintings. “In retrospect, it's kinda dumb to think they were stars, huh?”

“Stars don’t move,” you say. “Nor do they only appear once a year.”

“That's what I said!” he exclaims, turning to you. “Well, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow these… lanterns will appear and I want you to escort me to and back from the light show. Then, and only then,” he emphasizes, “will I return your precious satchel. Do we have a deal, Starlight?”

“Yeah, no,” you say, much to his dismay. “I’ll get lynched if I come as close as five meters from the kingdom. That is not a figure of speech.”

He looks you up and down, chewing his bottom lip, contemplating. “We find ourselves at odds then,” Suguru says. “You can’t leave without your satchel and I won’t give it to you unless we have a deal.”

“I don't know what brought you here,” he continues, jumping down from the fireplace’s mantle. “A poet would say fate, others would say destiny—”

“A horse did.”

“But against all common sense,” he says, completely smoothing over what you said, “I have made the decision to trust you.”

“You are right,” you say. “It is against common sense to trust me.”

Suguru scoffs, using his hair to bring your chair closer and closer to him. “So in return, you can trust me when I say that you can destroy this room, tear the tower brick by brick,” he says, punctuating each statement with a pull. “But without my help? Oh, you never find your precious satchel.” 

You huff, looking down to escape the drilling holes of Suguru’s gaze, his face so close to you you swear you can see entire galaxies in his eyes. You meditate on your options for a moment; it's either lose what you almost gave up your freedom to get, or possibly get sent to the gallows for stealing from the royal family. 

“You’re not going to budge, huh, princess?” you ask after a beat, relishing in the way the corner of his left eye twitches when you call him by the nickname. 

“What do you think?” he retorts, tiling his head to the side with an irritated grin.

You hum, taking in his question. “Can we compromise on me giving you directions?”

“No.”

You groan. “What? There's, like, nothing out there that could harm you. Notice how I'm talking about you here?” you say, craning your neck to get closer. “With me, however, it's a given I’ll end up next in line to get hanged.”

“Not my problem,” he says. “If the poster is anything to get by, then you probably deserve it.”

His words would cut more if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure he is extremely sheltered, and so, he doesn’t know neither your life nor the context in which it was written. So you simply shrug and sigh, ready to accept his deal. Hell, maybe you could show him something to be scared about and he’ll abandon his childish quest of seeing the lanterns. 

“Fine,” you say, not missing the slight twinkle in his eyes when you agree. “I’ll take you to see the lanterns or whatever. And then you'll give me my satchel.”

“Deal,” Suguru says with a grin.

[waitineedaname]

they moved it online !!! thank fucking god

sometimes good things combine to make a bad thing. such as:

I have a job interview today -> yay! Finally!

It's snowing today -> yay! Finally!

I have to go to my job interview in the snow -> this fucking sucks

[genderqueerdykes]

Really appreciate this blog and what it shares. Got into an arguement with someone who was a transfem TIRF (didn’t realize that was even a thing at the time lmao) and it left me feeling really upset due to the both gross ways she’d talked about trans men and the fact that she got a lot of support in the notes. So coming here and seeing in fact most people love and care about us transmascs is nice.

Won’t argue again next time I see an account like that cuz it’s kinda obvious people in those circles are prolly not getting out but yeah.

i am so sorry you had that experience. i'm glad you're advocating for yourself and choosing to not argue with that person again.

i honestly refuse to socialize with a person when i see them be that openly hateful with no attempts to change. i stopped talking to one of my old roommates after he started saying all kinds of transandrophobic shit, shitting on transmascs bodies and calling them gross because he's "gay" and could never be into vaginas or breasts. my ex (trans)gf literally fucking yelled at me for not wanting to be his friend after this. like actually fucking yelled at me numerous times. i asked her if she would be comfortable staying his friend if he was transmisogynistic toward her and told her her body was disgusting, and she said yeah of course, as if somehow that wouldn't cause her pain. nobody gave a flying fuck about how transandrophobia affects transmascs, so i said fuck all of you and stopped being their friends.

there are so many people who have gladly jumped on the rad fem train and it's so sad. that's no way to live your life. that's such a hateful ideology. rad feminism is nothing but hate. it's hate for yourself for being a woman because you equate womanhood to suffering. it's hate for other women because they're not women "right" like you are. it's hate for transmascs and trans men. it's hate for nonbinary people. it's hate for genderfluid people. it's hate for trans, nonbinary, genderqueer, genderfluid, gnc, bi, & pan lesbians. it's hate for butches who are men. for TIRFs in specific, it's hate for other trans people because they're "trans wrong". rad feminism is hatred all the way down no matter how you look at it. rad feminism will never be productive or progressive. it's about wallowing in your misery, mining for sympathy and pity, and crying about how you're powerless and defenseless instead of doing something about it. it's admitting defeat.

as a fellow transmasc, i'm just over it. i'm not gonna stew in self hatred. i had a friend who WAS transmasc who basically forced me to hate myself for being a trans man. always going on and on about how they hated certain transmascs and trans men, how they were "Whiny and entitled"... yikes dude. you can keep hating yourself over there, but i genuinely love being transmasc & a trans man. coming out as a trans man literally saved my fucking life. i was a depressed mess that hated myself before i came out. i've never loved myself more. and if someone else can't love what i love about myself? they're not worth my damn time.

i'm not here to throw transmascs under the bus just to kiss up to transfems to try to look progressive for brownie points. that shit is underhanded and dirty. we can support all trans people at once. we aren't football teams. you don't have to pit random queer identities against one another. we're on the same side. none of us are enemies. none.

thanks for taking the time to stop by! take care of yourself, i'm glad that i could help in any way. i am just OVER people forcing transmascs and trans men to hate themselves and exist solely to talk about trans women and transfems and nothing else. i am just over people making men and mascs feel like shit. it's done. it's over. i'm not participating, and neither are you. pack that shit up into a box, and throw it in the garbage. we're working together whether or not you like it. the only way we get out of this is together. our fight for liberation is NOT a crab bucket- you do NOT have to pull someone else down when you see them rise up and advocate for themselves.