#that idea of just saying ‘fuck it’ and being terrible back to people who hurt you

[witchezandwonderz]

Aemond x Reader headcanons

The day that you were taken in by the Targaryens was admittedly, one of the worst days of your life. Your parents had been killed, whom were very close friends of Viserys- he made a vow to take care of you and raise you after the brutal attack. You were young, and therefore struggled to be grateful to any of the people who surrounded you- you just wanted your family back.

Aemond kept his distance from you initially, he had tried to comfort you, but you were a child and did not make it easy for him. Your tongue was sharp, and you used extremely colourful language to express how much you wanted to be left alone. He, also a child, did not understand your anger and took it personally.

You watched Aemond get his eye cut out, which disgusted you terribly. You had watched, terrified as he nearly killed lucerys, and then watched, terrified as lucerys covered him with sand and slit his eye. You grabbed Aemond and ran, as fast as your small frame could, while supporting him as you heard him scream in pain.

As you both grew older, so did your fondness for one another. Despite your differing personalities, you took comfort in him. You spent your evenings with each other, neither one of you wanted to admit your romantic feelings but neither of you needed too. You both enjoyed being in the moment too much.

When you heard of Lucerys death, Aemond promised you that he had nothing to do with it. But then the truth came to light, and you found it difficult to look him. He pleaded with you, telling you that he deserved it, an eye for an eye he said, but you did not think that an eye for a life was fair.

You felt selfish to forgive him, but you did. You loved him more than anything, and that all came rushing out of your mouth on one freezing cold evening. You had both finished dinner and retreated to his quarters- unbeknownst to Alicent, who was not fully aware of your nightly encounters. She knew that the two of you were close, however did not realise quite how close. You felt unbelievably anxious when you told him, for you were scared to ruin whatever it was that you had. He did not reply with words, but instead kissed you- softly at first, but when he realised that you wanted it as much as him, the kiss quickly turned passionate.

The night that he first bedded you was magical, he had put candles around the room and made sure that both of your first times would be special. It is funny to think that others would brand Aemond as a harsh, cruel and wicked person, whereas you see him as sweet, kind and thoughtful. You were okay with that though, he was yours, and you did not need anyone else to see the true him.

The day that Aemond told his mother that he wished to marry you was an awkward one. He had barged into one of the council meetings, one that he was late for and demanded to speak to his mother in private. Alicent refused, stating that if he had anything to say he could say it in front of the council- she regretted that. Initially, she refused the idea, but when Aemond announced to the entire room that you had been fucking every night for a fortnight, she had to accept.

You had a kind heart, and he loved that about you. He had a kind heart too, but only when it came to you. Sometimes ignorance was bliss, as you ignored all of the hurtful things he would do to others. It was hard to ignore however, when he killed a man in front of you for looking at you for too long. “You are mine, and no one else’s to look at. Accept that.” He had told you, you felt guilty at the fact that you liked his possessiveness. It was addictive. He was addictive.

——-

A/N- this is my first time writing head canons lol, let me know if you want more, or if I can do anything to improve!

Likes, comments and reblogs are unbelievably appreciated <3

[boygun]

Running out of tags rn. I'm in no way bashing the meme I just used this post to ramble on a bus stop out of boredom. Also I'm in no way saying the Darkling didn't abuse others, but like. Except for the emotional attachment I feel towards the story, I don't look to deep into it, idk how I would feel if he existed in our world. He doesn't so I don't really care.

Tldr.: the cult is “Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you want to go apeshit?” for me and I think it's fun

[lupinqs]

paige x reader request!! okay so reader has never dated before (she’s always focused on school and boys around her never seem to “meet up” to her standards….right lol) when she gets to college she meets p and they become really close. they end up falling for each other but reader is conflicted bc she has thought she’s been straight but looking back all the signs were there. she’s never wanted to have sex before (men are scary) but she wants to with p, she trusts her. this could be p talking reader through this realization and/or smut (p being really sweet w her bc it’s her first time yk)!! thank you!!

FIRST TIME ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: your first time is with paige

☆ ━ word count: 5.3K

☆ ━ warnings: smut with plot (honestly just p eating r out)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: my gift to everyone after that hellish lottery… fuck dallas bro 😐😐 also this is not my best work this month has been fucking terrible so my bad

FOR YOU, it’s always been school. School, school, school. By seventh grade, you already knew you wanted to go into medicine. Your parents both work in the field—your mom at the hospital, your dad in his private practice. You grew up hearing their stories over dinner, listening to the ups and downs of their days, feeling that pull towards something important, something that could make a difference. The way they talked about their work, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself there, following in their footsteps.

So, you worked. Hard. From the moment you set your sights on medicine, there was no looking back. High school flew by in a steady cycle of textbooks, flashcards, volunteer shifts, and internships, each one a piece of the puzzle you were putting together. You spent weekends shadowing doctors, hours in study groups, a summer interning at the local hospital where you first learned what a real emergency room felt like. Even then, nothing could shake you from the goal you’d carved out for yourself. You’d known from the start where you wanted to end up: Yale. As a Connecticut native, it felt like a given. You saw yourself there so clearly that the idea of not getting in didn’t even occur to you.

Until it did. And when the rejection letter came, it was like the ground had fallen out beneath you. There was shock, disappointment, embarrassment. You’d done everything right—how had that not been enough? But still, UConn is a good college, and the goal is med school anyway. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter where you get your undergraduate degree, that you’ll just work even harder this time. When it comes to med school applications, there won’t be any mistakes, no missed chances. You won’t let it happen again—you will be going to Yale.

The thing is, school’s been your everything for so long that you don’t have much of a life outside of it. You had a first kiss once, an awkward moment with a boy who you never talked to again. But after that, there hasn’t been anything more. You’ve always been busy, and to be honest, there’s never been anyone who made you want to carve out time. Every relationship around you seemed like a distraction, a place for people to get hurt or get sidetracked, neither of which were part of your plan. Your friends like to tease you about it, saying your standards are too high, that no one will ever live up to the expectations you’ve set. And maybe that was true. Maybe that’s what it is. The boys just don’t meet your standards. You accept that, not caring to pay any mind to them (though they certainly paid mind to you), continuing to stay focused.

But at UConn, things start to feel different. College is strange that way—there’s structure, but there’s also space, a little more breathing room. It’s not like high school, where everyone knew what you were doing all the time, where your schedule was mapped out. Here, people let loose, go out, drink, stay up until all hours for no reason at all. You do it, too, and you realize it’s fun. But you never let it go further, never bother to get any sort of romance or even hook-ups involved in your life—because you’re still who you are. Your studies come first, always. You continuously remind yourself of that. Med school is the goal, and you work towards it every day.

Besides, you’re not even really interested in dating or anything of the sort.

That is, until you meet a certain blonde-haired basketball player.

It happens during the second semester of your freshman year, in a class you’re only taking for the credit. You barely even remember signing up for it—some easy elective with minimal workload to round out your schedule. You don’t care about the subject, don’t even plan on giving it much effort beyond the occasional assignment because you know it’ll be easy anyways. But then she walks in.

Paige Bueckers. You’ve heard the name before, of course. Everyone has. She’s the sophomore basketball phenom, the face of UConn athletics, practically a celebrity on campus. You’ve never paid her much attention—basketball isn’t really your thing—but the buzz around her is impossible to ignore. Still, when she strolls into the classroom, disheveled and running a little late, it takes you a moment to connect the dots. Her hair’s thrown into a low bun, messy strands framing her face. She’s in a gray UConn sweatsuit, the hem of her hoodie slightly frayed, her glasses sitting casually on the bridge of her nose. She scans the room, sees that the only open seat is next to you, and slides into it without hesitation.

“Hey,” she says, flashing you a quick smile before dropping her bag on the floor.

And that’s it. Nothing monumental. Just a simple greeting. But there’s something about her—her presence, the casual ease with which she takes up space—that immediately hooks your attention.

At first, you try to keep your head down. She’s just another classmate, someone you’ll probably never see again once the semester’s over. But Paige doesn’t make it easy to ignore her. She leans over to you during class, whispering comments about the lecture or the professor’s awkward hand gestures. She’s funny—unexpectedly so—and you catch yourself smiling at her jokes even when you try not to.

You notice other things, too. Like the sharp line of her jaw, the way her broad shoulders stretch the fabric of her sweatshirt, the subtle curve of muscle beneath her long sleeves. She’s not the type of traditional feminine pretty that you’d expect, not delicate or polished. No makeup, no carefully curated outfits. But there’s something about her—an almost sculptural beauty, like she’s been chiseled from marble by a particularly ambitious artist. It’s distracting. And you don’t get distracted easily.

When your friends convince you to go to your first basketball game of the season, you tell yourself it’s just for the experience. A chance to break out of your usual routine. But then you see her on the court. And suddenly, everything makes sense. Paige doesn’t just play basketball; she owns it. She’s gorgeous out there, all fire and intensity, her movements fluid and commanding. You find yourself watching her more than the game, mesmerized by the way she moves, just her presence in general.

After that, you start looking forward to class in a way you never have before. It’s not the subject, obviously. It’s Paige. The way she smiles at you when she walks in, the way she leans over to whisper something ridiculous during a particularly boring lecture. She’s the best part of your day, and you don’t even try to deny it.

When the two of you get paired up for a group project, it feels like fate. You go to her apartment to work on it, expecting the same easy banter from class, but it’s more than that. The two of you get off track almost immediately, laughing over something stupid, and before you know it, hours have passed and you’ve barely made any progress. You end up staying way later than planned, both of you scrambling to get back on task before you have to call it a night. By the time you leave, you’ve swapped numbers, and from then on, the texts come easily.

It starts with class updates, but soon it’s more. Late night conversations that have nothing to do with school, Facetimes, too. Hanging out becomes natural: grabbing frozen yogurt, wandering around campus, studying together even when you don’t need to. You talk and talk and talk, and somehow, it’s never boring. Paige has this way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight you usually carry around doesn’t exist when you’re with her.

One night, after one of your froyo runs, you’re sitting in her car. The frozen yogurt is long gone, but neither of you seems ready to say goodbye. The conversation slows, dipping into a comfortable silence. You glance at her, and she’s already looking at you. There’s a shift in the air, something unspoken passing between you. And then, suddenly, she’s kissing you.

You freeze. Not because you don’t want it, but because it’s so unexpected. Your brain can’t catch up with what’s happening, and for a moment, you’re completely still. Paige pulls back almost immediately, her face flushing as she stumbles through an apology. “I’m sorry—I thought—God, I must’ve read that wrong. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, shaking your head as you finally find your voice. “I didn’t mind.”

Her eyes search yours, uncertain, and then the silence settles again. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean back in. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. Her hand cups your jaw, warm and steady, while your fingers find their way to her arm, brushing over the solid muscle of her bicep. The center console is a nuisance, forcing you both into awkward angles, but you don’t care. It’s all soft lips and quiet breaths, a perfect mix of hunger and gentleness.

When she finally pulls away, she drives you back to your dorm, her voice soft as she says, “I had a good time tonight.”

You manage a quiet “Me too,” before slipping out of the car.

Back in your dorm, your roommate is asleep, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart still racing. You just kissed Paige Bueckers. A girl. And you liked it. More than liked it—you want to do it again.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You’ve never thought about girls like that before, never let your mind wander there. You always assumed you were straight, just too busy or too picky to find the right guy. But now, as you think about Paige, about her hands on your face, her lips against yours, it all starts to make sense. You never wanted boys. Not really. That kiss in high school with that random guy had felt wrong, awkward. The idea of being with a man had never appealed to you—except for maybe Drew Starkey, but even that felt more like a joke than anything real.

But this? The thought of Paige, of her smile, her laugh, the way she made you feel like you were the only person in the room—that feels real. And it’s terrifying.

Because now you know two things for sure:

You’re gay.

And you really, really like Paige Bueckers.

And it turns out that she really likes you, too.

Because that first kiss turns into another kiss. And another. And now, every time you’re alone together, it happens like clockwork.

The two of you have started hanging out in your rooms more often, the need for privacy overtaking any desire to sit in common areas or go out. Paige’s teammates joke that the two of you have become “homebodies,” but they don’t know the half of it. They don’t know how, as soon as the door closes, her lips find yours, soft and insistent, her hands framing your face as if you’re the most delicate thing she’s ever touched.

You’re not dating—at least, not officially. You haven’t talked about it, haven’t dared to address what’s happening between you. It’s easier this way, or so you tell yourself. But a part of you wonders why Paige doesn’t bring it up. Why she hasn’t said anything about what this is or what it could be. And that bothers you, even if you try to push it to the back of your mind. Then again, you’ve never done relationships, so maybe this in between is for the better—at least, for now.

Tonight, her teammates have gone to Ted’s. Paige had asked if you wanted to go, but when you wrinkled your nose and said, “Not really,” she grinned and said, “Me neither.” So, here you are, alone in her dorm room, a movie playing on the small TV mounted to the wall. Neither of you are watching it.

You’re lying on her bed, her weight hovering above you, and there’s no space, no breath between the two of you. Her lips are on yours, insistent and hungry, her body pressing against yours as if she can’t get close enough. There’s an urgency in her kiss tonight, a need that you can feel deep in your chest. You kiss her back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, trying to anchor yourself to her.

Her hands are on your hips, her fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against her mouth. You feel her smile against your lips at the sound and it makes you smile, too.

And, for the first time, you find yourself wanting more. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your nerves alight with a buzzing energy that you don’t fully understand but don’t want to lose. Paige seems to sense it too because her hands slide up your sides, her thumbs tracing slow, deliberate lines against your skin.

Her lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. The kisses are messy and open-mouthed, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. When her hands slip under your shirt, tracing over your stomach, you shiver.

“Can I take it off?” she asks, her voice soft but tinged with want.

You hesitate for a moment before nodding, lifting your arms to help her pull the shirt over your head. It’s gone in an instant, and you’re left in just your bra. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver again, but it’s nothing compared to the way Paige looks at you.

Her eyes roam over you, but not in a way that makes you feel objectified. It’s more like she’s in awe, like she can’t believe you’re here with her, like she can’t believe she gets to see you like this. It’s overwhelming.

You look away, suddenly self-conscious. It’s nerve-wracking, you’ve never done this before, and you know that Paige has. But Paige also knows that you haven’t, which you suppose makes things easier. You feel her fingers catch your chin, gently turning your head back to face her. Her touch is so tender it nearly makes you cry.

“If you wanna stop, tell me,” she says, her blue eyes locked onto yours, her voice steady and sincere.

You shake your head, your heart pounding. “I don’t wanna stop,” you say quickly, and then, after a pause, you add, your face flushing slightly with embarrassment, “I’m just a little nervous.”

She smiles softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her hands move to your ribs, tracing slow, soothing lines along your skin. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “You don’t gotta be. I’m right here.”

Her words settle something inside you, easing the tension in your chest. You nod, and she kisses you again, her lips slow and deliberate against yours. The urgency from earlier is still there, but now it’s tempered by something softer, something deeper. You want her closer, impossibly closer.

Her hands slide up your sides once more, stopping just below your chest, and the anticipation alone makes your breath catch. When her palms finally cup your breasts through your bra, her touch is firm yet reverent, and the sensation makes you gasp against her mouth. Your breathing deepens, your chest rising and falling under her hands.

It’s instinctual, the way your hands move to her waist, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of her long-sleeve shirt. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, and you can feel the subtle definition of her abs as your hands explore, your palms smoothing over her sides.

Paige groans softly into your mouth, her body pressing harder against yours as if she’s trying to fuse you together. Then she pulls away just enough to tug her long-sleeve shirt over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it carelessly across the room. The moment it’s gone, she’s back, her lips finding yours again, more insistent than ever.

She’s in just her sports bra now, and you can’t help but let your fingers trail along the edges of it, brushing against the smooth fabric and the warm skin beneath. Paige shivers under your touch, and the knowledge that you’re affecting her this much makes your heart race even faster.

Then you feel her hands move behind your back, her fingers toying with the clasp of your bra. She hesitates, her lips hovering over yours as if she’s waiting for your permission.

You pull back just slightly, your lips still brushing hers as you murmur, “Take it off.”

Her eyes flicker with something intense, something almost vulnerable, as she nods. She unclasps your bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down your shoulders before pulling it away completely. For a moment, she doesn’t move, her gaze dropping to your bare chest. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, and when she finally speaks, her voice is low and husky.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” she mutters, her eyes locking with yours for a heartbeat before her lips are on yours again, desperate and consuming.

Her hands return to your breasts, cupping and kneading them in a way that makes your head fall back against the pillows. A quiet whimper escapes your throat, and Paige groans in response, the sound vibrating against your lips.

Her mouth begins to wander, leaving your lips to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, then lower to your neck. She lingers there, her teeth grazing your skin before she soothes the slight sting with her tongue. Each kiss feels deliberate, like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you react to her touch.

She moves lower, her lips brushing along your collarbone, her breath warm and uneven against your skin. Her hands continue their slow, deliberate exploration of your chest, her thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that makes your breath hitch.

Her lips trace the edges of your breasts, teasing and deliberate, and it’s almost too much. Your fingers tighten their hold on her sides, your nails digging slightly into her skin as you try to ground yourself.

Paige’s lips move with an unrelenting intensity, open-mouthed kisses peppered across your chest as though she’s determined to worship every inch of you. When her mouth closes over one of your nipples, the heat and pressure of her tongue send a jolt through your body, and you swallow hard, trying to keep yourself steady. The sensation is new, overwhelming in the best way, and you feel a steady, growing thrum between your legs that you can’t ignore.

She doesn’t rush, her lips and tongue moving with precision, her hands anchoring you to the bed as if she doesn’t want you to float away. Her mouth trails from one breast to the other, lavishing attention in a way that makes your breath hitch and your fingers curl into the sheets.

“Paige,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, your chest rising and falling heavily as her lips continue their descent.

She hums softly against your skin, a sound that vibrates through you as her mouth moves lower. She lingers over your stomach, her lips and tongue leaving a warm, wet trail across your skin. When she sucks on a spot just below your navel, you know she’s leaving a mark, but you don’t care. The sensation is intoxicating, her gentle pressure grounding you as your thoughts scatter into nothing but her touch, her presence.

Then, her hands move to the waistband of your sweatpants, pausing just above your hips. Her fingers don’t tug or pull, just hover there, her thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. You glance down at her, heart pounding in your chest, only to find her already looking up at you.

Her eyes are soft, full of a question she hasn’t yet asked, though there’s no mistaking the want clouding her gaze. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, careful, “Do you want me to?”

You swallow thickly, your throat dry. Do you want her to? God, yes. It’s not even a question. You don’t just want her—you think you might need her in this moment, need her to fix that ache that’s been building between your legs since she first kissed you tonight.

But it’s scary. Already, you’ve never been this exposed with anyone before, and this—this is something else entirely. A deeper kind of intimacy, one you thought you’d be ready for but now realize the weight of. Whenever you pictured what your first time might be like, you never really thought it would be too important, but now, here, with Paige above you, it feels monumental.

But who else would it be, if not her? Paige, who makes you feel safe, wanted, adored. You trust her in a way you’ve never trusted anyone. She’s kind, patient, and you like her so much it almost hurts. It only makes sense for it to be her. Even if it’s scary. Even if the thought creeps in—what if you’re not enough for her? What if you’re different from the others she’s been with, and she’s disappointed?

Your thoughts are interrupted as Paige reaches for your hand, her fingers threading through yours in a gentle, grounding gesture. Her eyes stay on yours, searching, concerned. She says your name, softly, once, then again. And then, “Baby…” Her voice cracks just slightly, and it tugs at something deep inside you. “Please don’t feel pressured. It’s okay. We don’t gotta do anything else.”

The way she says it, so sincere and unselfish, almost undoes you. You shake your head quickly, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I don’t feel pressured,” you say, and though your voice wavers, it’s honest. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you continue. “Just… just keep going, please.”

She hesitates, her eyes locked on yours for a long moment, as if she’s searching for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. When she seems to find nothing but your own need and trust, she nods, her expression softening into something almost reverent.

“Okay,” she murmurs, her lips pressing a kiss to your stomach, this one gentler than the ones before, less insistent but no less meaningful. She kisses you again, and again, her hands moving slowly as her fingers hook around the waistband of your sweatpants.

She pulls them down your legs with care, her eyes flicking back to yours to make sure it’s still okay. You nod, your heart racing but your body completely at ease with her. And as Paige tosses the sweatpants aside, her hands return to your hips, her lips never far from your skin, and you feel nothing but trust, nothing but her.

She places feather-light kisses along your inner thighs, moving slowly, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin in a way that makes your breath hitch. Her hands rest on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles that feel both soothing and electrifying. When her lips press against the edge of your underwear, your heart races so fast it’s all you can hear.

And then, without breaking her rhythm, she tilts her head slightly and presses a soft, lingering kiss right over your clothed clit. The sensation is light, almost teasing, but it sends a shiver coursing through you. You take a shaky breath through your nose, swallowing hard, because she’s barely touched you, and already your body feels like it’s on fire.

When her fingers slide to the waistband of your underwear, she pauses, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. The unspoken question is there again, and this time, you don’t even need to think about it. “Mm-hmm,” you hum softly, nodding as your chest rises and falls a little faster.

Paige nods back, her expression soft but full of intent, and she hooks her fingers around the elastic, sliding your underwear down slowly, carefully, as if she’s unwrapping something fragile. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver, and when her gaze lowers, taking you in fully for the first time, you feel your face heat up, a mixture of anticipation and self-consciousness twisting in your chest.

Instinctively, your legs start to close, but Paige catches them gently, her hands warm and steady as she presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t hide,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. When you don’t immediately relax, she looks up at you, sincerity written all over her face. “You’re so pretty, baby,” she says, her words soft but firm, like a promise.

Her reassurance eases some of the tension, and when she presses another kiss to your thigh—this one closer to where you want her—you let your legs fall open again, trusting her. Paige doesn’t rush. She kisses along your thigh again, then again, each one inching closer to where your body feels like it’s burning.

And then she’s there, her breath warm against your clit as she places the softest kiss there. The contact has you gasping quietly, your hips shifting involuntarily. She pauses, letting her lips linger, as if testing your response. When you let out a quiet, broken sound, she pulls back just slightly, her eyes lifting to yours as if checking one last time.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” she whispers, her hands smoothing up and down your thighs. You nod quickly, a whispered, “Okay,” tumbling out, though it feels like an understatement.

And then, without wasting any more time, Paige’s tongue slides along your core. That alone is enough to make your whole body flex, your stomach shuddering. Before you even get to process that foreign feeling of her tongue running up your slit, Paige presses her mouth against your clit completely, rolling her tongue right to the collection of nerves.

Her tongue alternates between soft, sweeping strokes and precise flicks that have you gasping for breath. It’s almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a moan finally escapes when her tongue moves a certain way, hitting a spot that has your whole body tightening. The sound you make is desperate, unrestrained, and your face flushes in embarrassment. But Paige doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, she doubles down, a soft moan escaping her lips, vibrating against you that sends a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

Jesus Christ, she’s good at this. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it makes you wonder how many people she’s been with, how much practice she’s had to make you feel like this. But then her tongue slips inside you, making you forget any and all of your thoughts, before it slides back out and smoothes back along your clit.

“Mmm, P,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaky and uneven. She glances up at you, her gaze meeting yours, and the sight of her—eyes dark with want, lips glistening—sends heat flooding through you. When she holds your gaze and tilts her head just slightly, her tongue hitting that same perfect spot again, your head falls back against the pillow, a breathless cry slipping out.

“Right there?” she murmurs, her voice low and muffled against you. The vibrations of her words are enough to make you tremble, and all you can do is nod, your fingers tightening in her hair as you whisper a choked, “Yeah—yes, shit.”

Paige doesn’t let up for a second, her lips and tongue working in seamless harmony to drive you closer and closer to the edge. It’s overwhelming, how good she is at this. Every flick of her tongue, every deliberate motion feels impossibly intentional, like she knows exactly what to do to unravel you piece by piece. Your thighs tense around her, hands tangling into her blonde hair as you press her closer, hips shifting instinctively to meet her movements.

Her hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as she focuses all of her attention on you. You can feel the intensity in every motion she makes—each swirl of her tongue, every press of her lips against you is filled with purpose. She’s completely locked in, as if nothing else in the world exists but you. The tension in your stomach coils tighter and tighter, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The noises slipping from your lips are no longer something you can control. You’ve never felt anything like this before, never imagined something could feel this good. Your hips move against her instinctively, searching for more, for everything she can give you. And Paige? Paige meets you exactly where you are, matching your every movement with a rhythm that drives you absolutely wild. As your legs begin to shake, she seems to sense your need for something more, and she slides her hands beneath your thighs, lifting your legs and placing them over her shoulders to get ever closer to your wet, dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure builds higher and higher. You’re teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. Paige doesn’t stop, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration as her her mouth becomes more precise and focused, tongue swiping so quickly against your wetness that you can tell she’s determined to push you over. “Paige, I think I’m gonna—”

You feel her nod against you, her tongue chasing the movement, and, between her kitten-licks and sucks, she gasps, breathless herself, “I know, I know. I gotchu, ma.”

And when she dives back in, taking your clit into her mouth and sucking it, her teeth scraping against you, her head shaking with the effort, that seems to do it. Your body tenses, toes curling as you gasp her name again, louder this time. The dam finally breaks, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you so intensely that it leaves you trembling. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your hand grips Paige’s hair tightly, holding her to you as your orgasm overtakes you, your pussy dripping.

Fuck.

Paige doesn’t pull away, her hands steady on your thighs as she guides you through it, her tongue slowing its movements but not stopping, easing you gently down from your peak. Your body shudders with aftershocks, and you’re left breathless, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

When Paige finally pulls back, her lips are swollen and glistening, a soft, almost smug smile on her face. She crawls up your body, pressing a kiss to your hip, then your stomach, before finally reaching your lips again. Her kiss is soft, tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“Hey,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice gentle as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “You good?”

You nod, still catching your breath, and manage to whisper, “That was… fuck, P.”

Paige grins, her fingers lightly tracing circles along your side. “Did so good for me,” she murmurs, her voice warm and affectionate. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Her words make your heart flutter, and you bury your face in her neck, a shy smile spreading across your lips. Paige wraps her arms around you, pulling you close as you both settle into the bed. The steady rhythm of her breathing against you is soothing, grounding you after all of… that.

“I’m really glad it was you,” you murmur softly, your fingers idly tracing patterns on her shoulder.

Paige presses a kiss to the top of your head, her voice low and full of sincerity as she replies, “Me too.”

[melancholyhigh]

CRUSH CULTURE.

ft. college au!leon x reader

synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.

tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).

note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)

masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3

You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.

You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.

You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.

It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.

You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.

Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.

You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.

Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.

You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.

That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.

–-

“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.

“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.

You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.

“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.

“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.

“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.

“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”

“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.

He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.

“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.

“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.

He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”

You shake your head no in response.

“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.

“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.

He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.

You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.

Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.

“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.

He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.

Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.

“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.

You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.

You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.

You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.

His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.

Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.

When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.

Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.

You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.

You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.

You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.

He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.

“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.

“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.

“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.

“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.

“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.

“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.

Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.

“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.

“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.

Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.

“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”

It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.

“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.

“It took fucking me to find that out?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[meangirls-imagines]

Hi. Can I request a Regina imagine? High femme lesbian reader. She/her. Looks are exactly my profile picture.

Plot:

Reader overhears people spreading terrible rumours about Regina. Reader defends her and Regina eventually finds out. Just pure fluff.

Thank you!

Protective

Description: Reader is usually the level headed one of her relationship. However, she is hanging on by a thread. The thread snaps when she hears a football player talking shit about her girl.

WARNINGS: none really. pure fluff. regina being all heart eyes for reader. reader yelling at men

Y/N was on her last straw.

All week for some reason, people wouldn't stop talking shit about her girlfriend.

Regina George.

It was no secret that people disliked her girlfriend. She knew that. She knew when her and Regina first got together. People would tell her all the time, it's not like she could forget.

But this was different.

It was more constant than usual.

It was like every day there was a new rumor about her girlfriend.

"Regina is cheating on Y/N with Aaron Samuels."

"I heard Regina is pregnant with Jake's baby."

Y/N was tired of the shit talking. She was one little inconvenience from exploding. Luckily for her, it would happen soon.

Unluckily for Shane Oman, he was about to endure Hurricane Y/N.

Regina knew all the rumors about her weren't true, but it still hurt to hear them. Gretchen and Karen were working to kill all the rumors as they started but it was hard when they kept coming.

Regina had no idea how Y/N was reacting to the rumors. She hadn't seen the girl all day due to them not sharing any classes together. So she had no idea what to expect.

She was waiting for the girl in the cafeteria, foot tapping impatiently. Gretchen and Karen were with her, glaring at anyone who looked at Regina badly as they walked past. The blonde felt vulnerable. She just wanted her girlfriend here with her.

Her day just got incredibly worse when Shane Oman came up to their table.

"Hey babe, you wanna hang out later?" Regina cringed. "Shane, you know I'm gay and have a girlfriend. Leave me alone." The boy smirked and leaned closer to Regina. "Oh come on, Regina. Remember how much fun we used to have? All you need is the right guy to straighten you out."

Regina went to reply but was interrupted by someone pouring a smoothie on the boy's head. He whipped around to see a smirking Y/N standing there with an empty cup.

"Hi there, Shane. Let me go ahead and explain something to you. You're going to back away from my girlfriend, and I won't tell the entire school that you have herpes. Got me?" The boy stared at the girl with rage in his eyes.

"Try it. No one would believe you." Y/N smiled at the boy. "Sure, they won't. But, I can very easily get medical documents that say that you not only have herpes but maybe I'll throw erectile dysfunction in there. Imagine how much action you'll get after that."

Shane blushed in embarrassment and stormed off, leaving a trail of smoothie behind him.

The cafeteria was silent, all staring at Y/N in disbelief. The girl stood on the table and addressed everyone.

"Okay. Since we seem to have a gossip problem at this school, allow me to tell everyone now. If I hear a fucking peep about my girlfriend, you can go ahead and sign your fucking death wish. Everyone got it?" The cafeteria seemed to all agree and go back to their business.

Y/N smiled in satisfaction and stepped down, instantly being pulled into Regina's lap. The blonde pulled her into a kiss, causing Gretchen and Karen to squeal.

They pulled away after a minute and Regina brushed her thumb on Y/N's cheek. "Thank you baby. I really appreciate it." Y/N smiled and kissed Regina's forehead. "Anything for you baby."

Needless to say, the rumors stopped and no one messed with Regina again.

[moonpascal]

Something Stupid

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖥𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝖲𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 “𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇’ 𝖲𝗍𝗎𝗉𝗂𝖽”

credit gifs on pinterest*

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort

logan howlett x mutant!fem reader

✰ a/n: all work is mine and i do not give permission for it to be translated or published anywhere else, thank you! ✰

-

 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘭 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶

It was late, and all the students were either in bed or studying. Wandering to the kitchen, you see Logan already nursing a beer. You couldn’t help but chuckle at him always sneaking alcohol into the school. Despite Charles always finding them and throwing them away. 

Shuffling to Logan, you gently wrap your arms around him, laying your head on his shoulder. “How were your classes today?" Your voice muffled pressing light kisses. 

“They were fine, same shit different day” he grumbled, taking another swig. He seemed tensed—well more tense than usual. You gently massage his shoulders, gliding your hands with your power. Relieving any sore muscles from training. You can see him relaxing, which always makes you feel better about your powers. 

"Bub, you just know how to make me feel good” he smiled. Oh how you love to make him smile. To ease his pain, may it be to project something else during his nightmares or take out simple knots in his back. You would do anything to make him feel better. 

“All for you Logan, I love you” you breathed out, hardly containing a smile. You couldn’t help it. Logan brings you so much joy and what better way to express it?

You walk to the other side of the island, what feels like an eternity. Glancing at Logan waiting for him to do anything. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, the beer bottle in hand long forgotten.

"Logan, please say something” hell pleading for some sort of relief from the pain brewing inside. 

"Kid, I think we should stop seeing each other,” he mumbled. His fist clenched, “This shouldn’t have gone on as it has.”

Tears threatening to fall, you couldn’t help but scoff. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes, I'm serious! I told you in the beginning and you ignored it! I’ve lost too many people, you knew I didn’t want anything serious!” He shouted.

“I thought things changed, I thought we could move past this! You won’t lose me,” you choked back a sob. You could feel your power slipping, trying to breathe struggling to catch your breath.

“You don’t know anything,” he grumbled, “you’re just a naive kid. What we had was just benefits. But you kept pushing to be more and I can’t!” He knew what to say, to push you, to get rid of you.

“Fuck you Logan, hope you enjoy finally being alone. Because no one is going to be there for you like I was.”

You pushed past Logan, the air feeling tight.

Once out of sight, you teleport to who knows where. Sitting in an empty field you let go. The pain erupts out of you. You can’t grasp what’s happening around you, all you see is blue. The only thing, the constant thing that is plaguing your mind is Logan.

~

As Logan grabs another beer, he hears a faint whisper in his head. “Goodbye Logan.”

——————

So this was the absolute first thing I've ever written and posted. I don't know how to feel about it. I've just kinda had this idea and it's been nagging at me for weeks.

I have written since middle school, so I'm extremely behind on what feels like everything. I'm also terrible at being descriptive. But I hope it was at least enjoyable!

thank you for taking the time to read this! <3

[unreliablesnake]

Big reputation (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: You got injured on the field and now Ghost feels bad. Well, maybe it's not just guilt...

Note: The people have spoken. Soft!Ghost. Fluff. Short story.

In your previous team you managed to enrage a general that you shouldn’t have, and apparently kicking you out of your comfortable position was his way of punishing you. So now you came to meet your new team at the base, already having ideas of who’s who based on rumors circulating in the military. 

There was Price who was fair and relatively calm, Gaz who was loyal to the fault and was a surprisingly nice guy in general once he warmed up to you, and you couldn’t forget about Soap–whose call sign you found utterly ridiculous–who was a big mouthed but reportedly funny Scotsman. 

And then there was Ghost, the man who was a mystery to most. No one has seen his face from the people you talked to about the team, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t get to see it either. But that was okay. Him being a big and scary guy wearing a skull mask that every single person was terrified of was more than enough to make you cautious around him.

Fast forward to four months later, when Ghost became your shadow after a fucked up mission where you got hurt. It happened under his watch so he was probably blaming himself, but he never really gave you a reason why he was always near you. Soap was the one who mentioned him possibly feeling guilty, and since you had no better idea, you believed it to be true.

The big scary guy didn’t seem so scary anymore. He was more like a loyal guard dog that followed you everywhere and scared off people you didn't want to be around.

“You should go to bed, it’s late,” he said one evening after a briefing.

It was only the two of you in the room, everyone had left already, but he was going through some reports before taking them to Price. You let out a sigh and leaned forward to rest your elbows on your thighs as you observed him. He had left the room before, but after it emptied and it was only you in there, he came back with the files. Out of nowhere. Without a warning. He mumbled something about needing a quiet place, but that was a terrible excuse considering he had his room to go to.

For some reason he glanced over at you every once in a while, watching you as if there was something he wanted to say to you. But every time your eyes met, he returned his attention to the papers in front of him. He didn’t speak up and you weren’t about to bother him with questions. Ghost was usually pissed if someone asked too many questions, this is how Soap got burned a few times in the past. 

Then something changed. He closed the folder and turned his attention to you again, this time not shying away from making it obvious he was staring. You raised an eyebrow in question, hoping he would say something, but he remained silent. With a groan you stood up and walked over to him, gently pushing the folder away so you could sit on the edge of the desk next to the lieutenant. 

His hand inched closer, just enough to let his little finger brush your thigh. “It’s late,” he repeated his previous statement. 

“I’m not sleepy,” you replied with a shrug. “Why have you been watching me like this? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then?”

Ghost sighed under the mask and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He was toying with it for a few moments, his eyes focused on the item instead of you. “You’re causing me quite a few sleepless nights, Rabid,” he muttered as he pulled out a cigarette from the box. He called you by the nickname that awful general had given you a few months back, and you knew he never did that without a good reason. 

What were you supposed to say to that? I’m sorry? No, that wouldn’t be right. So you chose to be careful with your next words. “You can’t sleep?” you asked him, genuinely interested. 

“Not when all I can think about is you and what I’ve done to you,” he replied quietly. 

“Why, what have you done to me?”

He shook his head, mumbled something like ‘fuck it’, then pulled his mask to his nose and lit the cigarette. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him getting in trouble for this. Price would be angry, because he believed if he could refrain from lighting a cigar indoors, so could others. So now that Ghost was inhaling the smoke with closed eyes, you didn’t know what to do or say. He would eventually speak up, right? 

Just when you were beginning to think he wouldn’t talk to you, his amber eyes landed on you and he said, “I sent you in there. You got hurt because of me.”

Soap had been right, he really did blame himself. Interesting. “Ghost, that wasn’t your fault,” you assured him. “Shit happens, it comes with the job. Don’t blame yourself.”

His free hand moved to take yours in his, and his long, thick, and gloved fingers wrapped around it gently. “I’m not blaming myself for you getting hurt, I know it comes with the job. I just can’t stop thinking about the what ifs. What if you died? What if you got so injured you would be discharged from the force? What if you were mad at me? What if you left me behind?” This last one made you raise an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t considered this after what happened,” he told you. 

“Never thought about leaving you behind,” you admitted. “You would mind? If I left and we never met again, I mean.”

Instead of answering, he raised your hand to his lips. “You and me… That would be quite a conversation, wouldn’t it? With your reputation and mine… Well,” he said, and you could see the shining in his eyes that gave away he was smiling. 

It took you a minute to realize he was talking about the two of you being in a romantic relationship. He was right, this would be huge. You were also a lieutenant, he wasn’t your superior, but people feared you both for different reasons. Ghost was… Ghost. All he had to do was stare at someone for five seconds and they would run away screaming. You, on the other hand, were feared because you were unpredictable. One wrong word and you would be at the poor bastard’s throat. 

So yeah. If there was anything to know, people wouldn’t shut up about it. You wondered if he was aware of the bets recruits were making about you. If there was anyone from base you slept with, it would be Ghost according to most of them. Maybe they were right. Maybe that was bound to happen. But maybe Ghost was taking part in the bet for fun. 

“I don’t care about that bet,” he suddenly spoke up. You were terrified for a moment since you had no idea how he figured out what you were just talking about. “I care about you. Would you mind if I kissed you?” 

You were too stunned to respond, all you could think about was the fact he dared to ask you this. You weren’t that close, not with him keeping a comfortable distance all the time. “Right now? Yeah, I would mind. Let’s just get to know each other first, yeah? Maybe over a drink.”

Ghost placed a soft kiss on your hand. “Anything you want,” he told you with a smile before pulling down the mask and getting rid of the remains of his cigarette. 

[thedevilsoftruth]

Y'all saw this coming. Strap in your seat belts, you sexy people. Daddies back in action. Im sorry if this comes as a shock to people who follow me and dont enjoy NSFW content. It's just what i do here. This is the first nsfw post of Shane on here. Im also sorry to my Moon Knight girlies, Marc will be back again in a while. And remember, if you don't like it...

... don't read it. :))

Nsfw Shane Hcs for the soul ♡

He's a nervous little guy when you ask him for it. He just gets all flustered and will bottom out on you halfway through.

When he's the one asking for it... oh boy.

He's 100% not pressuring about it. He beats around the bush a lot. " I don't know, am I trying to get into your pants? Oh geez, why would I ever want to do that.... " As he's hugging from behind, pushing you into the counter and attacking your neck with sloppy kisses.

He'll deny his intentions on clearly trying to have sex with you as a way to tease you, and then when he gets in bed with you... well... the rest is history.

He runs out of stamina easily, so he likes to start off with foreplay or oral as a way to, as he says, " get the juices flowing " but really just to make sure you're comfortable, and he doesn't hurt you when he actually bangs you.

Horrible, terrible, down bad, filthy, outrageous, uncontrollable breeding kink. Always uses protection, but when the question is brought up of having kids, Lord have mercy, that man is ON HIS KNEES. His ears are PERKED up like a cartoon character. He likes finishing in you, but the idea of raising children with you is something he's always thought about. It's the least thing he can do to contribute to his family; keep the bloodline going.

Not the best performance when he's drunk. Towards the end, he'll get a bit faster, but he will be bottomed out half the time.

I know I'm talking about him bottoming out a lot, but he is a classic, slow, vanilla, missonary kinda guy. Bdsm freaks him the fuck out.

He just really doesn't want to hurt you. He's down for something rougher if that's what you want, but it's only if that what you want. He will always put YOU and YOUR safety before his.

" Am I hurting you? " He will slow down in the middle of your session to check up on you and make sure you're okay and comfortable. " Do you need me to stop? " etc.

And he's funny too. That man is hilarious in bed. He his making references to old movies in bed with you, he's singing songs, he's just being a dork. " You could say I'm rather.. cocky " as he's whipping it out. Really, bad, bad, horrible jokes, but that's the point of it. He just wants to make it more light-hearted for you so that you're happy and content with him.

Sometimes he'll play music. Marvin Gaye is a go-to.

And when he's done, he always gives you a nice massage and cleans you up. On his good days, he'll give you a bath. But his favorite thing is giving you a massage. He's experienced, too, with massaging the cows.

He lets you sleep on his chest when you're both done for the night. The next morning, he feels so. Fucking. Guilty.

" Baby, are you sore? Is there anything I can do? " is all he's able to ask you. He cares about you a lot, and he doesn't want to hurt you. He knows your hips have to hurt, especially with having to do your farm work in the morning. He'll ask you to stay in bed with him, and if you refuse, he'll make you dinner and then watch a movie with you and give you another massage.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (VII)

Chapter 7 : And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.

Hi! Here is another chapter! On the menu for today: lots of aching, some terrible ideas and a plot twist!

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2148

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Sonnet 65

Matilde, where are you? I only just noticed behind my necktie and above my heart, a certain melancholy between my ribs: It was that, all of a sudden, you are gone.

I needed the light of your energy so much. I looked all around me, devouring hope, and saw that the space without you is a house, with nothing left in it but tragic windows.

In the pure silence now, the roof is listening to the falling of ancient leafless rain, to feathers, to what the night has imprisoned.

And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets, 1959

Elwood was the reason Andrew crawled out of bed the next day. A Sunday morning filled with rain, the colour of the sky matching his mood. The dog came licking at the hand hanging from the side of the bed, and Andrew was annoyed, for sure, but the second his eyes fell on his lovely dog, he could only groan in exasperation and sit up.

He looked at the empty spot in his bed, undisturbed and cold. It felt like staring at the chasm that had claimed his heart since Sam had left. Empty, dark, frightening, lonely…

He didn’t even know who he was anymore. He used to be Sam’s partner, what was he now?

Single.

The word echoed in his head and chest and brought a new set of tears to his eyes. And he had thought about marrying her…

What a fucking fool…

Elwood let out a whimper, looked up at Andrew with begging eyes. God, he had to get up, take care of his dog. He couldn’t just lay there all day, he needed to take Elwood on a walk, despite the rain and his bleeding heart. Feed him, scratch him behind the ears for being a good boy…

Andrew needed to get his body functioning again, there was no use in lying there all day anyway. That was what the logical part of his brain was saying, trying to coax his body into motion, but his muscles simply refused to respond. He was exhausted, didn’t have the strength for it. He knew he couldn’t let himself spiral into a depressive episode, he had to wrestle against it or else he would drown in it.

He heaved a painful sigh.

“I’m coming, buddy. I’m coming,” he mumbled to Elwood.

The dog rubbed his snout against Andrew’s legs as he rested his feet on the cool tiles of his floor. He took a couple of seconds to gather his strength and stood up, his back aching after laying down for too long.

He grabbed his phone as he got dressed in a hurry, checked the voicemail left by his mother asking how he was feeling, his brother’s text, Alex’s five unanswered calls. He tugged the phone in the pocket of his jeans without answering to anyone. He would deal with society and people later, for now, he needed to find the strength to get decently dressed, find his keys, find Elwood’s leash.

He didn’t eat or drink coffee before leaving, he simply secured Elwood’s leash, and walked out of his apartment, brain buzzing with static noise and body numb. He pulled up his hood once he stepped into the street, the feeling of the rain finally bringing him back to reality, anchoring him for a moment.

His head was swarming with thoughts, with questions, with hate towards himself. But more than anything else, he couldn’t understand what was happening. Sam had refused to even move in with him, saying that they needed to grow as people before doing that, saying she didn’t feel ready to share her space with another person. But Andrew was beginning to realise that her refusal had never been about her need to grow, her need for independence, her need for self-discovery. It was about him. Andrew had been the problem all along, and she had strung him along for years, talking about future plans they would accomplish in their thirties, like the finish line was this new decade that stretched ahead of them. But the truth was, she simply didn’t want to do all this with him. He wasn’t enough, and he never was. He was the fucking problem.

And he had thought she was the one…

He still thought she was the one. He still loved her. He still wanted her back.

He waited for Elwood while the dog sniffed around a tree, the rain heavy on his coat, the rhythmic pattern of raindrops drowning the noise of the busy city. And Andrew thought of you, of the weight of your body in his arms as you collapsed last night, the streetlights shining on your tears, the pain in your eyes…

You wanted your ex back as well. Frank. Frank.

Frank who had seduced the love of Andrew’s life, Frank who was now going to marry the woman he loved, Frank who had shattered your heart and was now responsible for your pain…

Frank… Christ, Andrew hated him. He had seen him for only a moment, and yet he hated him. He hated him for all that he had taken from him, taken from you…

And he seemed to be Andrew’s perfect opposite. Handsome. Charming. Charismatic. Extraverted. Blond with blue eyes, a smile to die for, a bubbly personality, the kind who easily made friends, who loved socializing. And he wasn’t a stupidly tall, clumsy tree like Andrew was. He was muscular, clearly worked out a lot. An image you would expect to see on the cover of Vogue magasine. Andrew wasn’t. Andrew wasn’t, and he had thought Sam liked that he wasn’t like that, that he was him. Clearly, he had been wrong. He could feel all of his insecurities bubbling up to the surface again, about his appearance, about his height, about his personality…

Was Sam bored of him? Did she realise he wasn’t attractive or something?

Elwood tugged on his leash, brought Andrew back to the present.

No… no, he couldn’t believe that the last eight years had happened for no reason. And he couldn’t believe that she was going to marry a man she had met two months ago. That wasn’t like Sam at all. She was… she was acting stupid. She was having some kind of crisis, he didn’t know what it was. Maybe she felt bored in their relationship, but he could make efforts for her. To go out more, to develop his social skills, to be more charming, to surprise her more… he would do it. He would hit the gym if she wanted. God, he’d do anything…

This whole situation with Frank made no sense. And Sam needed to realise that she was acting without thinking, clearly, that this was crazy.

The rain got heavier, Elwood was getting cold, so Andrew decided to shorten their walk, and he hurried towards his home again. Head low, staring at the glistening curb, he thought about how he could bring Sam back to her senses. Elwood was pulling on his leash now, cold and wanting to hurry home.

Surely, there was a way to make her see that this made no fucking sense… right?

You were surprised by Andrew’s call that morning. The buzzing of your phone woke you up, you answered with a voice groggy with sleep. He apologised for waking you, asked if you could meet him at a coffeeshop that afternoon. You were taken aback by his invitation, but you accepted anyway. You needed to get out of bed, eventually, and seeing Andrew gave you a reason to get dressed and get your body moving.

You were wearing sweatpants and an old cardigan under your coat as you waited for Andrew to arrive at the coffeeshop, and the truth was, you didn’t give two shites about your appearance today. You were too sad for that, too stunned as well…

You didn’t notice that Andrew was fifteen minutes late, you were busy with your thoughts. When he sat down on the opposite side of the small wooden table, you barely noticed him.

“Hi! Sorry, I’m late…”

“Hi! It’s okay…”

“I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“No, that’s alright.”

You forced a smile as your gaze caught his, but you read the same desolation in his reddened eyes, in the dark circles under them. He had spent his night crying too…

“How are you feeling?” he asked a polite question, but you saw in the way he stared at you that he really meant it.

“Terrible. You?”

“Like proper shite.”

“Yeah… I reckon that last night was… a lot…”

“I didn’t know Sam knew Frank. I had no idea…”

“I didn’t know either. I would have told you, had it been the case.”

He nodded, cleared his throat.

“Want a coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee would be nice, thanks.”

He went to get your drinks, offered you a warm porcelain cup when he came back.

“Why did you want to see me?” you asked quite bluntly, but you reckoned there was no reason to circle around the issue.

“Erm… I… I thought we ought to talk about what happened last night.”

“How so?”

“I… First, I want to make it clear that it’s not going to change anything in how I see you. And I… it won’t change anything concerning our work.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“Same. None of this is your fault.”

“Good… grand… I’m glad to hear you say that. Like… I was worried you would resent me for Sam and Frank.”

“Looks like we were both the ones who got fooled.”

“Yeah… big time…”

Andrew was nervous. Very nervous. The way he kept on touching his face, on readjusting his glasses, on rubbing at his palms were obvious signs. He averted his eyes and seemed keen on avoiding all eye-contact for a while. You wanted to reassure him.

“I… I’m not going to lie, I’m devastated by the whole thing. But I’m well-aware that none of this is your fault, Andrew. It won’t change anything in the way I see you, and I won’t resent you or… or feel uncomfortable working with you.”

He slowly nodded.

“Is that why you wanted to see me?” you asked, but Andrew bit on the inside of his cheek for a moment before he would answer.

“Partly, yes. I reckoned that we needed to discuss this together before we would be back at Trinity. But… there’s also… I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to make you an offer.”

“An offer?”

He let out a long exhale, before finally gathering the courage to look at you again. You stared at his hazel eyes, silently questioning what he meant.

“Look I… I understand that we’re colleagues, that this is highly unprofessional of me but… I love Samantha. I want her back. I want her back, and to be honest, I’m ready to do anything to get her back. And… judging by your reaction last night, and for the past few weeks… I can clearly see that you want Frank back as well.”

“Of course, I want him back.”

“Honestly… this whole thing is ridiculous. It’s nonsense. Sam and I were together for almost eight years and all of a sudden… she gets engaged to a guy she met two months ago?! No offense towards Frank…”

“No, no, I agree! Like… Frank and I were engaged, he pushed back our wedding because he wasn’t ready and all of a sudden he’s ready to marry a woman he barely knows! Like… I’m sure she’s great, but he doesn’t even know her at that point!”

“Exactly! They’re clearly making a mistake, I don’t know what’s gotten into their heads, but it’s madness…”

“It is! And they don’t seem to realise it!”

Andrew nodded, stared at you for a moment.

“I want to make her realise that she’s acting stupid, that she needs to think things through, that this is a mistake. And I think you want Frank to do the same, right?”

“Yes, of course. But I’ve tried talking with him, and he shuts me down every time…”

“Sam does the same. But I’m determined to show them the truth. And I… I want you to help me.”

You blinked, frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I want Sam back. You want Frank back. We both agree that they’re acting in an illogical way, and that they’re making a mistake. We need to show them, make them realise this whole thing is a terrible idea, bring them back to their senses. But I don’t think we can do that on our own.”

“And what would you propose we do then?”

“We need to show them that this wedding is a terrible idea. We need to ruin their wedding.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, taken aback.

Ruin their wedding?

Show them they weren’t meant for each other?

Andrew offered you his open hand.

“This would be highly unprofessional,” you added, and Andrew merely nodded.

“It would be, yes. And I’d understand if you refused. But I don’t see another way out. Do you?”

You didn’t. There didn’t seem to be any other way out of this mess. And at least, you wouldn’t face all of this on your own anymore.

You stared at Andrew’s hand, long, pale fingers stretched towards you. When you shook it, your hand seemed ridiculously small in his.

You looked up to catch his hazel eyes with yours again.

“You’re right. Let’s ruin their wedding.”

[blacksorrow-untiltheend]

oh.

Ok.

Hi guys.

My friend and I were on call, and we were rewatching Alien Stage together.

Normal stuff, right?

But then she points out something. Something that I did NOT notice before. Like, at all.

Tw for mentions of SA and abuse

ok. There’s one scene— the scene in Cure, where Till finds out Mizi is missing. If you don’t pay attention, you’ll miss it.

In this part, Till’s already being treated horribly— which, isn’t it normal in a fucked up world where Aliens only see humans as pets, and make them compete for their lives in a singing competition?

In the part after this, His head literally gets shoved down— that’s already a lot of abuse. And, like I mentioned earlier, the aliens only see humans as pets, so isn’t this “normal”?

There’s a frame for maybe two seconds, but you could easily miss it if you blink.

It disgusts me— yeah, the reason this is happening is because he fought back, but the way they’re manhandling him? It’s horrible. And something tells me this isn’t even the first time, depending on how his whole trait is being rebellious? Yeah, he’s definitely gone through this before. and that’s horrible.

This part kinda makes me cry. The alien— for one, has partially no clothes on, besides its jacket. Till looks famished, he looks so tired, it’s so upsetting. Using these two things, we can assume they’ve done something to Till. And based on the hallucination of Mizi, it’s not impossible that he might’ve been drugged. (Less likely, but still.)

This part is me speaking from experience—

The way the Alien pets Till’s hair, as if to “comfort” him, is something a lot of Sexual assaulters do to their victims.

Here’s a reminder; a sexual assaulter can be ANYONE. Friend, family, “trusted” adult, anyone. And they will make the victim feel like it’s their fault. After they’ve done those terrible things to their victims, they won’t always leave them alone. They might treat the victim like a partner would after sexual intercourse— kindly, comfortingly, doing actions that would soothe their partner. They’ll make the victim think that it’s okay, and it wasn’t a big deal.

This is what’s happening to Till. There’s a possibility that he thinks it’s fine, despite being so tired and hurt, because it’s higher ups, it’s his master, or something else. This isn’t quite confirmed but, in my own experience, SA victims can become hostile, and will run or fight if someone tries to touch them. And till? Well, he’s hostile, and he runs away a lot. Right?

And god knows if the others have gone through this too. My goodness.

When Ivan goes to free Till, he’s passed out. They left him there.

That’s what happens with sa victims sometimes.

The assaulter treats the victim so nicely, and then leaves. Because they always leave, eventually. They leave the victim alone, feeling disgusted by themself

I love the way vivinos handled this. Not straight out saying, “oh Till got SA’d”, or something. They showed it, but in a way that not only is it not being sexualized, but it’s also painting a picture of the fact that sexual assault is anything, and it can happen to anyone. It’s a common shit idea misconception for a group of people that “females are the only ones who can get assaulted!” When that’s obviously not the case. Is Till a female? No. Did he go through that? Yes.

Tl;dr — Vivinos is awesome when it comes to handling topics that are big and relevant. And Till deserves a better life

Also, I didn’t give a good explanation, so please go and read other ones that are better.

And if you’re an SA victim, just know; you are not alone.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

remember how charlie started dating her gf back when she thought vaggie was a sinner who'd earned a place in hell, and then she found out the gf used to be a murder angel and got angry / hurt bc SHE tells vaggie everything so why didn't vaggie trust her with the angel thing??? does vaggie not really LOVE her????? oh yeah and murder bad too whatever- OH WAIT SO VAGGIE /DOES/ LOVE HER!? fuck yeah who cares about murder! the angel gf's wings are hot and charlie Will Hug Her

what im saying is... charlie doesn't just TALK about the fluffy vague idea of redemption

she's been living it this whole time

we see her CHOOSE to stay with vaggie even after having the exact terrible bad things vaggie did shoved in her face. there's no "she's just naive" excuse here

she knows. her kindness and hope doesn't come from a LACK of knowing how bad things or people can be

but that was vaggie's past. charlie talks about a breach of trust, of vaggie not trusting her with the truth, of the fear that other things between them hadn't been true too- Those are all PRESENT vaggie issues. they're all questions about the woman vaggie is NOW, and what kind of relationship charlie has with her, today

even charlie's line wondering if vaggie would've told her about an angel's weakness- it's not, "oh you're still one of them", it's "now i know there was something else important that you didn't tell me"

it's so quiet. that kind of, amazing moment. where charlie just unravels the whole idea of sin and flicks it away, like a speck of dust

being reminded of how many ways vaggie SHOWS who she is and who CHARLIE is to her, that settles charlie, answers all her worries and questions (she can trust vaggie) (vaggie is in this with her no matter what)- because none of them, those fears and pains, were about what vaggie had been

that's how the hotel can work. it's built on something REALLY strong- it's built on charlie honestly meaning what she says, and vaggie truly actively being her partner in it

we can't SEE that happening without looking at THEM

(we see people not taking them, or charlie, seriously- and getting fucked up when they Find Out)

them being and staying together is proof that the hotel can work, that angels can sin and seek redemption, that people- even sinners- can change

and when they change there'll be at least one place where they can BE that new person

at the hazbin hotel

[telekinetic-electronica]

bendy, "ink demon", and trauma responses

I've recently got back into Bendy. (tbh this shit is never gonna be going away this has been my special interest for 7 years FDKJNDSJKFD) and I did some thinking on him again. It's crazy to me on how... dehumanized Bendy was. While, yes, he's not an actual human, but he's still, y'know a person. He has feelings, he's conscious. He just doesn't have a soul. Which brings me to this post. The Ink Demon has never been called by Bendy. Which, you're all like "well, duh. That's his ink form. His other form is his toon form, just to tell which forms apart." I know that's possible the case. But I do wanna look into this attitude a bit more. When Bendy was first created, Joey literally called Bendy a THING, and for him to lock him away because he wasn't what he wanted. His literal crime was looking scary. So, Thomas Connor and Gent by the request of Joey, locked Bendy away for... God knows how long. Tbh, it's never clear on how Bendy ever acts, but Bendy was probably scared out of his mind. Can you imagine you're finally made and some people are talking. You have no idea what's going on, but this Joey dude says that you're wrong. You came out wrong. You are a mistake. You're suppose to be loveable, silent, and small. But you're not that. You're tall, empowering, posing, and not even a real chance to prove you're not as scary as you look. You aren't even called by your name, nor the title you would gain via your infamy. You are a thing. You are not someone who has emotions or needs, a thing. You are a monster. Now, you're locked away, probably terrified, and calling for help but people around you are too scared of you to help or don't wanna face the wrath of this Joey Drew.

I think Alice said this best back in Chapter 4 of the original game. At the studio, you were in someone's pocket, or someone was in yours. The studio was a disaster pit. Even if not everything happened was "real" or w/e, Joey was still a dickhead to everyone around him. Bendy was no exception. I think Bendy probably learned the best way to survive the studio, and the harsh reality around him was to manipulate. Bendy is a pretty good manipulator, he can get into someone's head, mess with them, and still taunt them. No one is born or created evil. That's a learned method.

In extreme cases of trauma, many people are in survival mode and thinking about themselves to survive, and how they can get by. This is because their safety, wants, and needs weren't being met. Not to mention, Joey and Gent just threw Bendy into the cartoon world, probably to just lock him away forever. Joey locked Bendy up for God knows how long, and now he's in this like- cartoon world version of the studio. He goes from nothing to everything in one fell swoop. This just made Bendy retreat more into himself. It just made his coping mechanism of always having to be on top, always being in control, the one everyone needs to fear. Because, fuck it.

If he's so horrible, if he's so monstrous, if he's so terrible, than he'll just become it. Minus when Bendy meets Audrey in his toon form, Bendy doesn't have anyone. Bendy has never been shown any warmth, kindness, or love in his entire life. The only thing he does know is pain, suffering, coldness, been abandoned, and been made out to be a monster. Which brings me to this - no one has every called the Ink Demon by his real name.

Even when he's technically no longer being locked away, and ruling the cartoon studio, he's still been dehumanized. Or never seen as a fellow victim of the machine and Joey. Everyone has said to BEWARE the Ink Demon, look out for him, and watch your back. The one rule down there was always beware the Ink Demon. Hell, Bendy calls himself the Ink Demon. Bendy has just embraced the title of being seen as this almighty, opposing figure. People either blindly worshipped him or feared him. They never saw him as someone who was unjustly hurt. Unjustly locked away and abandoned. Unjustly painted as a monster because he didn't turn out the way Joey wanted him to be.

You know who has called Bendy by his name? Someone, for the first time, called him by his real name and not some title?

Audrey.

Audrey is the first person to show Bendy any kindness or warmth. While, yes, it was in his toon form. He actually gets treated like a person. Someone who has emotions, and even APOLOGIZED when she, on accident, hurt him. And Hell, dude accepts it! I really hope, going forward, as a way for Bendy to heal when he's in his Ink Demon form, Audrey shows him the same compassion and kindness in that form of his. But she also calls him by his name. Bendy. Not to mention...

The cycles are interesting to me. It could possibly just being a plot thing. But it could be seen as a continuing of generational trauma and toxicity, and Audrey is the one who stops it. Joey clearly has some shit going on. He hates not being in control and wants to be in control of how other people perceive him. So, he turns out destructive towards everyone. Which is... eerily similar to how Bendy treats his own trauma. Bendy and Joey were physically and emotionally destructive to the people around them. It's also kind of sad because Bendy thinks he's in control of the studio. Dude says it's his domain, when Joey was still in control all along.

Bendy is continuing that toxic cycle. Then Wilson comes along and projects his own trauma, and issues. While the cycle stopped, Wilson didn't make it any better, and probably made the cycle for everyone in the studio just worse. By Audrey having the book now, she's putting a stop to the generational trauma via helping out everyone still trapped and helping Bendy out. That's why I've been calling Ink Demon, Bendy.

Because that's his name, after all.

ADD ON-; I just wanna say that Bendy was HARDCORE self projecting on Audrey near the end. I also wanna touch on Bendy and suffering. Bendy was so miserable, and had nobody he just gave into his own suffering, and became the Ink Demon. If he has to suffer, he's going to make everyone else in the studio suffer. He only found any purpose was in harming others. Also, obvious disclaimer this doesn't justify what he does to the people he has hurt. It explains it, doesn't justify it.

It's just downright depressing that he thinks he had no purpose, his existence was a lie, thought of himself as a mistake, and monster. To be frank, I wouldn't be surprised if Joey called Bendy a monster or a mistake. He did call Bendy a THING after all. I really hope Bendy does get to heal and realize his purpose doesn't need to be him suffering and he can have SOME peace.

[greyskyflowers]

I really like the idea that Ichigo has always done some strange stuff, even before any of them had any idea about soul society.

Chad, Orihime, and Uryu (as well as Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro) very much take the approach of don't say a fucking thing, leave him alone to anyone who looks like they may say something about it.

Ichigo makes a strange noise? They've figured out which noises are good ones and which ones are bad ones.

He's a little colder, distant, and sometimes a little cruel? Give him a little bit and he'll be fine again.

He gets a little too bright eyed during fights? Licks blood off his lips and sometimes off a wound? His nails look a little sharp and his teeth a little meaner? All good. He'll beat the shit out of someone, pace around a bit and be fine again.

Eats an unbelievable amount of food and still stays on the lean side of skinny? It's a metabolism thing.

Runs a little colder? He's great to sit by in the hot summer!

Gets a little distracted, looks at things and listen to noises that aren't there? That's normal, he's been able to see weird stuff his whole life!

Even after they all gain the ability see ghosts and that's obviously not what Ichigo is doing, they just tell people he's listening to and seeing ghosts.

Everyone else is a little confused by that but it's clear they're not going to get a real answer and tbh they're not sure they want one.

It's also important that they don't call too much attention to it. Ichigo doesn't seem to realize he does some of those things.

Like when someone pointed out the blood thing and he spent 20 minutes gagging and throwing up, tongue still stained rusty from the blood.

Or when someone mentioned the noises and he doesn't speak for days, quiet and withdrawn. And even now he cuts the noises off, biting them back and swallowing them down.

Or when people called him cruel, a thug, someone who wants to see others hurt, because he got into fight. He didn't fight back the next few times he got jumped, letting the hits land and taking it because the fear that he was all those things people said was stronger than any pain.

All the times he kept his mouth shut because someone joked about wolf teeth.

Or when he ripped his nails down until they bled so they weren't sharp enough to hurt anyone on accident.

Or when he kept his eyes down so no one could say he wore colored contacts to go with his "dyed" hair.

Orihime being so upset after the cookies she had given to someone, who made fun of a noise Ichigo made, had ended up bad! Oh no, oh gosh, how terrible that they got food poisoning! She's so sorry about that but there's a gleam to her eyes that has everyone backing off.

Chad disappearing and coming back with busted knuckles that go unnoticed, Ichigo focused on keeping his fingers curled into his palms and his mouth firmly shut.

Uryu ripping into some of the people who started rumors about Ichigo, channeling every cold and cruel part of him until several people are crying and no one dares say Ichigo's name for awhile.

Tatsuki throwing punches and Keigo attempting too, Mizuiro making things happen that no one can directly link back to him but everyone knows it's him.

Ichigo doesn't ask for a lot, but he gives a lot. Too much.

So, they can give him this. They will give him this. Let him do his odd, little quirks and they'll deal with anyone who tries to say anything.

💀

Shinigami are strange, strange enough that Ichigo blends in with them well, even though he's still sometimes a little strange for a shinigami.

Chad, Orihime, and Uryu are pleased that Ichigo fits in so well with all these new people, especially as they get to know them more.

Renji and Ikkaku are animalistic with too sharp teeth and a wild air to them.

Kenpachi is a monster wearing human skin.

Rukia, and her brother, have moments of cruelty and distance.

Unohana is something old and dangerous.

Kisuke is... unsettling, raises the hair on the back of their necks a little bit but Ichigo likes him. And as unnerving as he is, he's been very helpful.

Yoruichi has a mean streak in her that is very much like a cat batting around a dying mouse.

The visored are even worse.

The humans don't meet them until Ichigo after has already firmly included them in his ever growing group of important people.

The visored are unsettling in a way similar to Kisuke, but heavier. Something about them makes the little animal part of their brains sit up and take notice, the hairs on the backs of their necks standing up and they have to fight the urge to run.

But the visored are strange in the same way Ichigo is strange.

And they'll gives some bonus points to Kisuke and his, because they've never so much as batted an eyelash at Ichigo's more bizarre quirks.

The visored show off too sharp teeth in proud smiles and angry snarls.

They make odd noises between themselves and understand them.

They force people to look them in the eyes, black and gold occasionally making an appearance.

They lick at their wounds absent-mindedly and on purpose.

They make no apologies for who they are or how uncomfortable they make anyone.

More than anything though, they let Ichigo do those things. There a fondness to all of them when Ichigo does something strange front of them. Something that's normal to them.

💀

Ichigo doesn't seem to realize that everyone is actually charmed by his little quirks.

He's saved most of them enough times that there isn't much he could do that would make them anything less then incredibly fond.

It's fun and interesting to see all the things Ichigo does when he's happy and comfortable.

He does a little head tilt, exposed throat move to certain people. The humans don't even think he notices it, it took them awhile to notice it.

He does it to most of the captains, excluding a few like Mayuri and Soi Fon. Particularly to Unohana, Kenpachi, Byakuya and Toshiro for the captains. He does it to Kisuke and the visored.

They notice it and they just roll with it. Kisuke and Shinji (and most of the visored to be completely honest) touch his neck and shoulders a lot.

Unohana makes the smallest nod to him and never acknowledges it again.

It took Ichigo a long time to be comfortable enough with them to touch as much as he wants to. After they saved Rukia and returned home, he was constantly touching them. Grabbing at hands, throwing arms around them, sitting close enough to touch, etc. He even includes Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro in the new, open affection.

He's comfortable enough to be that way with a lot of people now.

Shinigami, and the visored, are actually a pretty tactile and intimate bunch. Living as long as they do and having such dangerous and traumatic lives, makes touch and comfort very important.

So it's not uncommon for Ichigo to disappear, finding someone to nap with or someone finding him. People are already drawn to Ichigo, getting to know him and all his quirks just makes them love him more.

---------💀--------------💀‐----------------

*holds up photo of Ichigo*

Karin, Yuzu, Chad, Orihime, Uryu, Tasuki, Keigo, Mazuri: he is baby

*hold up photo of Ichigo after fighting Aizen*

His sisters, the humans, Kisuke, Yoruichi, Kukaku, Ganju, most of soul society, all the visored, Nel: baby

*holds up photo of Ichigo fighting yhwach*

His sisters, the humans, Kisuke, Yoruichi, Kukaku, Ganju, all of soul society, all the visored, Nel, Grimmjow, Dondochakka, Pesche, Bawabawa : ba~by

[spoofymcgee]

reread men at arms today and.

god. GOD.

i had to put it down when i got to the scene where carrot kills cruces because it says:

"But Cruces had been standing with his back to—

Vimes looked at the pillar. It was granite, and a foot thick. There was no cracking. There was just a blade-shaped hole, front to back."

throughout the whole book, the idea of a king has revolved around the sword in the stone. colon says, earlier on, that he'd rather have the man who put the sword in the stone in the first place.

carrot does both. he puts it in and pulls it out, right as he's been accused of being the rightful king and he does both in his job as a watchman delivering justice.

not as an empty gesture.

not in front of a crowd.

in front of one man who doesn't believe in kings. in front of the descendant of stoneface vimes. in front of the man who faced down the last king (admittedly a dragon).

vimes notices. vimes tries to say something and carrot shuts him down.

because the thing is is that vimes sees the world like vetinari, as much as he doesn't want to admit it. perhaps not everyone is wholly evil, but everyone has a little bit of terrible somewhere inside them, only for some people it's a very big bit.

carrot thinks everyone is good. everyone, including the people he arrests or kills. there's some good in them, and he believes it, and–usually–so it exists.

which is why vimes, on a fundamental level, can't understand how carrot works; how carrot can see a difference between personal and important z why he doesn't flip out when angua leaves in the fifth elephant.

but he taught carrot how to be a watchman.

taught him that people deserve a right to think for themselves and make stupid choices and hurt each other because that's what makes them able to choose to be good. taught him that justice doesn't come from kings and leaders but from the law, and they are servants of the law, not some overlord.

and so carrot is not the rightful heir to the throne, because the city doesn't need a king. it needs captain carrot, out on the streets talking to people, sitting in the watch house doing paperwork, running across the rooftops.

carrot is simple. he doesn't care what the narrative wants him to be. he doesn't care about the sword in the stone or the proof. he knows how he's going to make the world a better place and what he's going to do with his life.

he's never dreamt of doing anything else.

and this is why the gonne can't touch him. carrot doesn't see all the ways the world can be better. he operates as if it already is, and the discrepancy closes up behind him, or he closes it himself.

and that's. fucking masterful.

[sauronsgirl]

Wanting You

Tangerine x F!Reader

Warning: smut 18+

This is a really bad idea. And a stupid one. Stealing the case from the Twins. But you have no choice. They have your boyfriend; who doesn't know that you're an assassin. You have twenty four hours to steal it on the train then get off at Nagoya. Once you're there, someone will be waiting for you.

You’ve known the Twins for years, you've worked with them a couple of times. Lemon is a deadly sweetheart and Tangerine is hard, strict. But extremely hot. You always had a thing for him, but he doesn't know. It was during a mission with them that you've met your boyfriend. A charming civil man, who works as a Real estate agent.

You are dating for a year now and you're happy. You have a few contracts but you manage to hide them from him. The man really loves you and would freak out it he finds out your real job. Well that was before he was kidnapped. They must have told him by now. Your boyfriend didn't deserve what is happening so you will retrieve the case, save him then once he is safe you will go. Your relationship will not be the same.

You climb aboard the train, being careful to not be seen by the Twins. You wait for the train to leave then go search for the case. You saw where they are sitted so it’s easy to stay out of view. You start by the luggage wagon. After a minute you find it and raise an eyebrow. It has to be Lemon who hide the case because it was too easy to find.

You take the case and go sit in the first class wagon. Now you have to wait three more stations while not being caught by the Twins. They would never forgive you for messing up their mission. Because it’s the reason why they’re on this train. You did your research on your way.

It all goes well until one station before Nagoya. Tangerine enters the wagon you’re in, swearing profusely.Shit. They had notice the missing case and clearly he is looking for it. He absolutely must not see you. You turn your head against the window with your hair down, hiding your face and pretending to be asleep as he walks down the aisle. You hear him talk to a girl before he’s leaving the wagon frustrated.

You relax a bit. It was a close call. When you reach Nagoya, you get up your seat and leave the wagon to exit the train. As you’re about to exit, a strong suited arm pulls you back inside. You curse and turn to escape the man, only for your eyes to widen in panic as you see it's Tangerine. Fuck.

-Hello love. I'm sorry to hold you back but it seems you have something that belongs to me. Just give it back and you can go to wherever the fuck you are going. says Tangerine firmly.

He really doesn't want to hurt you. It shows in his eyes and tone.

Any other day you would have obey but not now. You don’t have the time, so you kick him between his legs. He let's you go with a groan of pain. You manage just in time to jump on the train. You mouth a “sorry ” before turning away as the train leave.

You receive a text saying that a man is waiting for you at the exit of the station and to follow him. So that’s what you did and two hours later, the deal is done and you’re on your way back to the hotel with your boyfriend who’s unharmed but terribly quiet. And you can’t blame him. Once you are back into your hotel room, it’s when your boyfriend speaks.

-So who are you really? he says coldly.

You flinch at his tone but chose to tell him the truth.

-My name is real. The only thing I’ve lied about is my job. I’m a professional assassin. I don’t only do kills, I steal importants things, spy in people… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m happy with you and didn’t want you to know about this dark side of me. I love you. you say full of regrets.

-Do you really? You’re a killer, a thief, a liar. And not to mention the fact that you dream about another man. Are you cheating on me too?

You don’t say anything. He has the right to be angry. Although you didn’t think he would discover your attraction for another man…

-You don’t even say anything. You know what? We’re done. I don’t want to ever see you again. I don’t need a murderer in my life. I won’t tell the police about you. Consider this a parting gift. he says looking at you coldly before leaving.

You stare at the door for a minute before turning and sit on the bed. You don’t know how you feel. On one hand you’re sad that your relationship has ended this way and on the other one you’re relieved. You liked him very much but you were tired to live in a lie. At least now nothing will ever happen to him again.

You spend the next couple of days in Nagoya, looking for a safe place to live, since you were living with your ex. With the amount of money that you have, it wasn’t hard to find something. A small villa in France, in a little and peaceful villagw. Perfect to lay low, exactly what you intend to do. For a while at least. Then maybe you’ll get some contracts again.

A week later and you are in your new home. It’s luxurious but not too much. The best thing about this place is that you have a private beach that leads to a beautiful lake. You put on a revealing navy blue bikini, take sunscreen, a towel then go outside to lay on a day bed to enjoy the sun.

An hour later, your eyes are closed. You feel the mattress sinks next to you so you open your eyes and gasp as you see Tangerine smirking at you. You sit up quickly and look at him shocked. You thought you were careful and didn’t leave any traces. Also, he is not wearing his usual suit. Instead he wears dark blue shorts with a white t-shirt that fits him really well.

-What the fuck? How did you find me and why are you here? you finally manage to say.

-It wasn’t easy. Had to bribe a few people and looked into your hotel room. We found a picture of France then eliminate all the place possible until this one. As for why I’m here, it’s because I have missed you and wanted to tell you that I forgive you for the briefcase. Our mission was already a mess anyway. says Tangerine.

-Oh Tan…I’ve missed you too and I’m still sorry. you say with a small sad smile.

-It’s alright love. Now where’s that boyfriend of yours?

-Gone. He broke up with me two weeks ago and I think it’s for the better. Our lives weren’t compatible anymore. you answer.

-Good so he won’t be there to stop me from doing this.

You don’t have time to ask what he means because Tangerine brings his mouth to yours. You kiss him back without hesitation. It’s better than all of your dreams. One thing leading to another, you soon find yourself naked on top of him, riding him slowly but passionately. Tangerine has his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. You breathe heavily against each other’s mouths. It feels so good and intimate, even if you are outside.

-That’s it love. Ride me nice and slow. Fuck your cunt is perfect… moans Tangerine.

-Your cock is so big… It’s so deep… you reply sighing with pleasure.

He groans at your dirty words then starts thrusting his hips up matching the pace you had settled. You moan in pleasure, throwing your head back. No one can see or hear you, it’s a private property. So you don’t hold back your noises. Tangerine can feel your orgasm approaching so he rolls you onto your back and moves hard and fast.

You grips his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist, your breasts bouncing with the strenght of his thrusts. Tangerine takes one of your nipple in his mouth, suck on it and you come with a shout of his name. Your pussy clench hard around him and it triggers his release. Tangerine comes inside of you with a groan and the sound is so hot you think you could come again.

He holds himself above you with one hand, trying to catch his breath. You are a mess, face red and all sweaty but completely satisfied. Tangerine smiles, then kisses you sweetly before pulling out and laying at your side. You cuddle against him, not caring about your mixed releases between your legs for now.

-That was incredible. The best sex I’ve ever had. I’ve missed you so much Tan. you say smiling.

-It was the best for me too love and I’ve missed you too. he replies smiling.

-What now? Do you want to say or you’re going to leave? And what about Lemon? Where is he by the way?

Tangerine chuckles and you blush. You really don’t want him to leave.

-You ask a lot of questions for someone who’s just been fucked. Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere. As for my brother, he is at a hotel outside of this village. I’ve asked him to stay behind because I wanted to talk to you alone. I will call him later. For now, I really love to be alone with you. says Tangerine while playing with your hair.

You smile relieved and move to kiss him tenderly. God you love this man. But you will not tell him yet. Tangerine hold your head in plage as he kisses you back. You whimper as you feel him hard again.

-Do you want to go inside? We could make real use of my new furnitures… you ask smirking.

-With pleasure darling. he replies smirking as he picks you up making you laugh at his eagerness.

For the rest of the day and night, you had sex on every surface and furnitures inside your house. The next morning you are sore and hungry, but it definitively worth it. You are finally with the man you’ve wanted for years.

Another fic about Tangerine :) love him so much ❤️

Tags: @tangerineboss @pretty-little-mind33

[trans-androgyne]

Can I rant about something?

I saw a post about how "TME" people posting "terfs drop dead" in their bios was entirely performative, and like, I pretty much agree with that, but then it went on to say that if TME people want to protect trans women they should go on to TERF blogs and go through them to block the OPs of TERF posts so TERFs can't find trans women to harass and like...

They are aware that they're asking trans people to go through the blogs of transphobes and read horrible, transphobic posts, right? Like, I tried doing that years back and it was pretty much a form of mental self harm. I wouldn't even suggest cis people do that without putting up extreme mental buttresses, and I would recommend against doing it at all, because radfem blogs can be that fucking rancid.

Like, do the posters of that kind of post realise what they're doing to trans people who aren't trans women, or do they just not care?

Yeah, I think the idea is that it won't affect other trans people the way it affects trans women/fems because TERFs are perceived as wanting to "protect" trans people afab the way they claim to. We're seen as barely being hurt by them, if not directly in cahoots with them or on our way to detransitioning and becoming TERFs ourselves (something I've personally been accused of). But that kind of thinking has in fact driven me to seek out TERFs and other transphobes talking about us just to prove that it happens often, and it's been absolutely terrible for my mental health. I don't think anyone should expose themselves to that if they can help it.