#well not of troy in this case but you see what I mean

[capslocked]

MANAGE (THIS) TROIS

male reader x wonyoung && yujin

12k words

It’s how your Sundays spend you, if you’re to be honest. It’s a day for rest, for sobriety, for virtue and measure, the Lord’s day if you’re at all particularly reverent (citation probably needed), and why Wonyoung is that much more annoyed when Yujin shows up dressed the way she is.

"Uh." Wonyoung laughs and it’s recognizably derisive. "Are you kidding?"

As some may or may not know, the three of you have been friends for ages; the spontaneous combustion into laughter, the ribbing, the teasing, the playful banter, it’s how you’ve always got on—the fact now that the sex is toe-curling and irresistible and downright sinful? An entirely separate issue.

Surely it won’t complicate things.

-

Technically, you’re all equally at fault the moment Wonyoung spies you making eyes at Yujin as she struts through the living room. She’s wearing only a tank top and a pair of fluorescent pink sports shorts that barely manage to wrap around her thighs, the seam of which gape perfectly to show you just how long her legs are, to the point your bones nearly start to ache.

The truth that Yujin will later vehemently deny is that things spiral out of control on account of the fact that she simply cannot keep her mouth shut, as is usually the case. You’ve come to assume that rather than possessing a shameless love for her own voice, she does it deliberately—to egg Wonyoung on, because the only thing she enjoys more than getting the younger girl flustered, red in the face, and reduced to an incoherent mess is arriving there before she even lays a finger on her.

However, if Yujin’s plan is to get Wonyoung all bent out of shape and worked up and beside herself to the point that she has no other choice than to take it all out on you, it backfires spectacularly.

Wonyoung’s nose scrunches and all her angelic features sharpen to a point as she watches Yujin crash onto the sofa next to you; sends her hands to her hips when she sees that warm arm wrap around your waist—palm flattening against your stomach a moment before sliding into the waistband of your joggers.

"What in the living fuck do you think you’re doing?"

"The way I see it," Yujin starts up again, and even though her words are clearly addressed, enveloped and stamped for Wonyoung, you’ve got the sultry color of her voice flirting in your ear, mouth skirting across your neck to find the gentle marks and bruises she’d made a silent promise to return to. "Miss I-give-the-best-head really shouldn’t have a single thing to get jealous over now should she? I mean, you sounded so sure about it."

"All I said was I have a proven method."

Yujin scoffs. "It’s not a precise science, sweetheart. Different strokes for different—"

"All sciences are precise," Wonyoung snaps back, one elegant brow arching skyward and arms crossing, "that’s what science means."

"Well, I think that’s open to interpretation."

"How… extraordinary."

To Wonyoung’s continued annoyance, the genuine throaty sound of your laughter doesn’t inspire confidence. Neither do the fingers you’ve got sinking into the round of Yujin’s perfect ass as she shimmies onto your lap, but it’s kinda the point. Because you know that the way you have Yujin sinking into a kiss, her hips rutting against you, lips sliding wet and easy and smacking across yours like you don’t care who’s listening—

"Oh, okay sure, let’s see…" Wonyoung pulls a fist out and begins to count on her fingers: "it’s my apartment. That’s my couch. And he’s my boyfriend."

When Yujin pulls herself off from your lips, her fingers continue on raking through your hair, and she just smirks—nearly grinning stupid because she knows how this always ends. Urges you gently as she pulls you by the wrist to grab a second handful of her chest. She’s delightful. And if there’s anything in particular that she flat out refuses to learn from this peculiar arrangement, it’s that you never ever ever try to goad Jang Wonyoung into anything.

"A little possessive, isn’t she?" Yujin asks as her hands, in a near-rehearsed motion, run down across your chest to where she can hook a few fingers into your pants. Gets them just down about the middle of your thighs to pull your cock out far enough to start stroking it.

And when Yujin also says right after—voice lilting into this familiar tone, something Wonyoung should absolutely know better than to walk straight into—that maybe if your girlfriend could take better care of you, that the truth might be: "I dunno, have you considered it could just be, like, personal preference? That he’s dying to bend me over instead? Would rather get my legs folded up into my chest and pump me full of hot cum just like that? I’m sure it’s nothing personal, little dove. I mean look at me: I’m built for it."

Wonyoung floats her fingers to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.

(Here’s the thing about Wonyoung: she’s quiet, incredibly pretty, reserved and sugar-sweet, and plays her cards close to her chest. With all that dark wavy hair spilling over her shoulders without fuss or pother, deep brown eyes easy to get lost in, she’s the quintessential angel the devil might spend countless nights in fantasy about plucking right out of the heavens and dragging straight to hell. In fact, so angelic is she that Yujin had begun to grow increasingly concerned that all your hard work had possibly been for naught—that for a long time, all those flashes of wicked lust in her eyes may have perhaps not been what you thought they were, those naughty quips and innuendos that never just landed as something you could quite laugh off were possibly a misread; Yujin had an incredible talent for determining which potential conquests were open to a little conquering—but with this girl, she was at wit’s end, had nearly given up. Wonyoung would blush and simper one moment, pale and avoid her the next. Oh, there’s wicked fun to be had in turning a wholesome and prudish princess to her more kinky side, though only if the princess is willing.

Wonyoung, so it seemed, was an incredibly difficult princess to read.)

"Brat," Wonyoung spits, shadowing in behind the girl on your lap and lets her voice lower into a dangerous growl, gets close enough so that Yujin practically winces when she feels the moisture in her breath against her temple. You watch as she gathers Yujin’s hair into her fist. It’s enough to tilt her head back until Yujin opens her mouth in surprise—something Wonyoung knows instinctively to kiss and suck and lick at until her lips grow swollen and tender. Whether or not it had always been the case, the truth could never have delighted you both more: the girl’s no angel.

"Mmmnph." Yujin melts further into your lap at the feeling of the tongue sliding languidly past hers, and you can hear all these little satisfied hums leak out of her chest in droves. When you ball the slippery polyester front of Yujin’s tank top between your fingers, her breasts spill out on either side of the fabric close enough to your face that it takes nary an effort to give one of her small dark nipples a wet kiss—an intense lips-puckering suck to the other.

The moment your mouth gets involved, lapping and licking and caressing her hardening nipples, Yujin starts to squirm. Each flick against her pushes a soft moan straight into Wonyoung’s lips; in many ways, that’s a familiarity the three of you all always manage to return to. Especially now that she’s got her hands wrapped and twisting around your cock, jerking you slowly like she has all the time in the world, like you and your girlfriend aren’t going to fuck her six ways to Sunday and still find her begging for more.

"Aight, listen here," you say finally with calm command, and both girls nearly startle. "It’s my cock you’re stroking. So I’m either fucking somebody or I’m gonna have to go take care of this myself."

The two of them get their eyes on you, both pairs of perfectly sculpted eyebrows ever-so-slightly furrowed. And when you unclench your grip on Yujin’s pliable ass, stretching your fingers wide to run it up her back, their gazes are rapt. Interesting. You file that away.

"Nope. You’re not going anywhere," Wonyoung says, having pulled away from the kiss and let a smug quirk settle into the corners of her mouth—apparently come to grips with the fact that, yes, you are going to fuck Yujin’s body until she’s incomprehensibly stuttering and blabbering, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

In tacit agreement, you slap Yujin’s ass through her shorts hard enough that she yelps. She’s not wrong—not that you’ll let her hear you say it—but she is built for it. You nearly snort, saying, "well hurry up and figure it out, who am I fucking first?"

Wonyoung leans in further to get her point across, to get her hands all over the girl in your lap. "What do you think about that, hmm? How does getting that cock inside you sound?"

"Oh, love." Yujin steadily starts stroking you faster, fingers tightening and loosening in a steady rhythm. Because if there’s anything in the world that turns her on more than Wonyoung abandoning all that about perfection and innocence, it’s feeling your cock grow harder in her hands. "Please please please tell me that it’s me."

She slumps forward at the touch of your fingers searching about the heat between her legs, arches her chest toward you to feed her breast back into your mouth—oh, of all the ways to die, surely. There’s a wistful sigh she lets on, a similar thought brewing and simmer as each touch from your deft fingers arrives closer to where she wants you, voice shuddering along a pleasant note.

"C’mon," she whines, "you get to fuck him all the time. No harm, no foul, right?"

From the way her pussy feels beneath the thin material of her shorts, you realize she’s made the decision to not wear any underwear, made the decision long ago that she’d be fucking herself with your cock and nothing else. A quickly drawn breath of air past her teeth clues Wonyoung in that you’ve got your fingers against her clit and she’s that much closer to begging to let her share you, closer to pleading Wonyoung to let her take your cock and ride it until every muscle in her legs are sore and aching.

You spit Yujin’s nipple from between your lips and laugh out loud.

"Yujin, you slut," you start, "you’re not even wearing anything under here."

There’s another rise out of the girl when you press your hand up against her pussy, close enough to slide a thumb between her lips, close enough that you can feel her heat, her gentle tremor, the way she begs for the friction of your fingertips, your tongue, your cock—anything thing firm and unyielding and attached to you.

"Didn’t stop you from you looking," Yujin insists, arching further back to the grip Wonyoung keeps tight in her hair, whimpering again as she gets her lips hovering beside hers. "Bet he’s been thinking all kinds of things, Wonyoung."

"And I suppose you figure you deserve that much, don’t you," says Wonyoung callously as she starts kneading her fingers into Yujin’s perky breast, the one you’ve left neglected. "Deserve to have this cock pounding you deep and hard and you probably want him to fuck a load of hot cum into you too."

Yujin just nods.

"Figure I’ll get my tongue on your clit for you and make you cum that way, huh?"

"Need to get fucked so bad," Yujin whines at Wonyoung, in the increasingly brief spaces between their loud, lip-pulling kisses—pauses that fill quickly with heated breath and the lust in her unsteadied voice.

Your girlfriend is hardly impressed. She says as much, and then laughs into her ear, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, and chides, "greedy."

Yujin immediately goes pliant, a little whine escaping her that neither of you bother to soothe. She repeats herself several times, "I’ll be good. Promise."

"Oh, I know you will." Wonyoung skates her thumb along her jaw until she finds her fingers threaded beneath her chin, gets her face pointed up so that she can see just how clear and articulate her eyes are, cast down the regal length of her nose and smoldering dangerously into hers. "But I think you’re still entirely way too coherent right now."

Yujin presses her lips against Wonyoung’s again, gets her fingers up over the head of your cock to lather precum into her thumb and drag it all down your length before pumping you in earnest. Wonyoung’s the one who knows you like the back of her hand, how to get you groaning and gritting your teeth with her fingers, her lips, her cunt, however she chooses, but Yujin’s never been far behind. She just smiles when she brings a touch down to your balls, and purrs: "Then that just means you aren’t distracting me enough."

Wonyoung flashes you a grin, and, oh, do you know the look, always mirthless and every bit as cunning—the same whenever she feels the urge to taunt you into sparring with her. She gets it exactly right, the perfect severity to an austere tone that makes Yujin’s hair stand on end at the next thing out of her mouth:

"Bedroom. Now."

It’s almost predictable. Yujin just looks at you with these wide eyes, soft and unassuming like she’s some lost puppy, knowing she’ll want for nothing once she’s in your hands—the way you and Wonyoung always take care of her, how you get her cumming over and over until she’s near hysterical and so overstimulated she has to beg you to stop.

"Best not keep her waiting," you tell the girl in your lap as you press your thumbs down into the curve of her soft, milky skin and massage a few circles into her thighs, "we both know she can quite be the handful."

And but so it’s the three of you—that common plurality coming to a head, you peeling your pants from your waist as you go, staggering not even a few feet down the hallway before Yujin says something that tests the limits of Wonyoung’s patience. You don’t quite hear what it is that sneaks out of her mouth, but whatever it is, you know it’s petulant.

Wonyoung pins the older girl to the wall, hands splayed around the bones of her hips, and there’s nothing forceful about it—the kind of authority she exerts a subtle thing. The two of them exchange more kisses, two curtains of dark silky hair cascading into another and only coming apart as Wonyoung lands fingerprints down the rise of Yujin’s shorts. When Wonyoung raises her face again, letting her breath kiss the tender swell of Yujin’s lips, she’s watching the way she throws her head back to the wall, throat exposed and begging to be marked, marred and bruised.

Wonyoung pushes her tongue between her lips, run semi-circles across them to remind Yujin of the big picture. "You’re fucking wet, Yujin."

"Better do something about it," Yujin chokes out, gentle features wincing again as Wonyoung’s hand slides lower, dipping and diving between her thighs.

"Strip," Wonyoung commands abruptly, liking the way it makes her shudder.

Say what you want about Ahn Yujin, no one thinks she’s stupid—Wonyoung might be the one to take the reins, call the shots, press the two of you under her thumb, but at the end of the day, Yujin always, always, gets what she wants. She starts at the top, raising one arm and reaching it behind her back so that her rack is fucking presenting, all while she shimmies her way out of her shorts, the flash of neon puddling into the floorboards at her feet. Yujin’s body is incredible, all angles and curves in the right places, pointed and soft in this juxtaposition that gets your head spinning—it’s a work of art regardless if it’s underneath you, on top of you, squirming into the cushions of the sofa, the springs of the mattress; it’s the angle, the framing, the change in perspective that always manages to guide you to new conclusions and interpretations.

"Good girl," Wonyoung mutters, and bites off a pitching moan as she seals Yujin’s lips with her own.

The two of them, like this (and in so many other ways), are so aesthetically pleasing. Beyond the way the pair gets their hands on each other’s skin, holds each other, ruts against each other, kisses each other like it’s some overflow of passion ten years in the making, they’re simply breathtaking and stupefying to the point that if you weren’t sinking your teeth into your lower lip while you stroke your own cock at the sight, your jaw would drop. As if the Creator, in their making, that meticulous work, had endeavored to pour as much unbridled, raw appeal to their figures, their forms, and pack an even more ungodly amount of lust into the two of them so that they might wreak havoc on anything they touch.

(And so often is it you, the recipient of all that lust and desire, you poor, poor thing).

But the thing that ultimately gets you behind Wonyoung, hiking her pleated skirt up around her hips and sunk to your knees isn’t so much that you feel left out as much as it is that you can’t let her be the first one to take Yujin apart—before you get your cock in her, get her clinging to your name like a lifeline, muttering it like a prayer, cursing at the top of lungs until she cums all over you and shakes and convulses in your arms. You simply can’t allow it, can’t do anything other than get Wonyoung’s stockings frayed, furled and fucked between her thighs and stick your face straight into her cunt.

"Oh, what’s the matter, little dove?" Yujin asks, eyes smug and content at how you have Wonyoung’s lithe frame curling into her, the choked back whimper you force out of her throat as you tear through the sheer fabric of her leggings. "Maybe… perhaps… you’re dying to get fucked too?"

"Watch it," Wonyoung growls.

"Or what?" Yujin just laughs, even though Wonyoung’s fingers continue to twist and dive inside her, start to make her cheeks flushed and stained, she’s purring: "Oh I know, you’re going to have to punish us both… like what a total drag."

She’s not going to be in a state to do much of anything, is how you see it, pressing your lips harsh to Wonyoung’s pussy, drawing out circles with your tongue on the hot, sensitive skin—drawing out a broken gasp that has her shooting up a hand to cover her mouth. But it’s too late. Yujin sees the opportunity for what it is.

Though you suppose there’s only patience enough for the first few buttons from the top of Wonyoung’s collar before Yujin decides to tear the garment from her shoulders, sending buttons flying and rolling across the floor. Wonyoung flinches while trying to retreat from the touches Yujin reaches up her skirt, and she simply backs up further into your face. You’ve got your tongue splitting her lips, tasting her entrance and making her pretty mouth—usually so poised and elegant and polished—start to cuss and swear.

"Baby, baby, baby," Yujin says, voice trailing, and she starts to preen Wonyoung’s hair out of her face so she can look her straight in the eyes, "You ride this cock every day, and here you are: even more desperate than me."

"Hey now, that’s not fair," you say as you surface from between the backs of Wonyoung’s thighs with a scowl, and seemingly without even thinking, pull your grip off her tight cheek to slide two fingers into her. You listen to her keen as you get two, three knuckles deep inside her hot cunt. "She doesn’t always ride."

"Hmmm." Yujin wraps her arms around Wonyoung and grabs your hips. "What do you think? The bed? Or fuck her right here?"

You still have your digits curling inside her, so she hardly minds at all when Yujin grabs her firm by the chin and slips her tongue in her mouth—for someone with such a strong resolve, she’s awfully sensitive, shockingly easy to unravel—minds even less when you lean over her shoulder and get your voice in her ear, teasing, "would you like that, princess?"

"Yujin," and she has it choked up so bad you can’t help but laugh as it nearly gets caught in her throat on the way out. She swallows, gathers her fleeting composure and wrestles herself from the girl’s grip before reaching her hand behind her and onto your waist, putting a stop to you fucking her right then and there. Makes you settle for sliding your cock between her cheeks.

"Yujin, darling," she starts again, voice again composed and unsheathed and apparently risen from the ashes—fashioned into a sharpened edge and held firm at the girl’s throat—only instead of terrifying her, it merely has Yujin licking her lips, struggling in anticipation. The three of you are only ever right where you’re meant to be. "I thought I told you. Get on the bed."

-

Wonyoung takes a beat to finagle with the rest of her clothes, removing the stockings you’d ruined and tossing them into the bin before sliding her skirt down around her ankles. Just like anyone else, she steps one foot out of them, and then the other, but the whole motion looks elegant and poised without even trying. She really is incredible like that. You’re always sure to remind her of it. And you can tell she’s rolling her eyes when Yujin makes a comment about not having it all down to a science in what is possibly the least sincere apology to date before dragging her tongue up the length of your cock, a loud kiss punctuating the end of the gesture as she reaches the tip.

Yujin’s on Wonyoung’s bed, again the familiarity something to marvel at, belly down and knees bent with her feet kicking over her frankly immaculate ass as she props herself up onto her elbows to properly lick you. She teases again, fitting her lips around your head and letting spit run down your cock. I hope you don’t mind, she efforts to say with her mouth stuffed, garbled and muffled and almost unintelligible.

Almost.

"At this rate," Wonyoung pipes up before settling in behind you, arms running around your waist and holding you by the base of your shaft, "both of you’ll be lucky to have much left to mind when I’m through with you."

Yujin pulls her mouth off you, lips smacking. Laughs out loud at the thought, and you watch her pull a bundle of hair back past her ear, angle her mouth better to meet your cock, and start to tease, "there’s our princess."

"Want your mouth too, Wonyoung," you say over your shoulder, and even if you’re pushing your luck, you know that deep down, Wonyoung can’t refuse a chance to show off, another opportunity to put Yujin in her place. "Maybe show her how it’s done."

She nearly snorts. "You’re spoiled."

She’s a slut for your cock anyway, you figure is what Yujin tries to say, but it gets lost in translation as you push your way between her soft lips, choking her for a brief moment with your cockhead in her throat. It’s all slippery and shiny with her spit after you pull your hips back, and it’s an invitation Wonyoung shakes her head at, until finally capitulating, "fine."

This silent competition that they settle into sees you as its sole beneficiary—your cock hardly left untouched, unlicked, uncared for by either of their mouths. They each have that burning desire to be the one that makes you melt, gets you to curse and moan and point your cock at their pretty face while you cum. Given that their goals are hardly aligned, it’s astonishing that they work in such beautiful harmony: Wonyoung licks your shaft, Yujin at your balls; kisses reach where another cannot, and you’re at the complete mercy of all the sinful motions of their tongues and lips—they’ve made you cum like this plenty of times before and they know they can do it again.

"Fuck," you curse, letting it slip, letting them each know you’re that much closer to being the first one to go. "Feels so fucking good."

The moment you start to bundle and brush all that dark silky hair from their faces, weave your hands into it at the napes of their necks, the movement and response is so elegant that it appears choreographed, rehearsed, and to some extent, that’s not far off. In tandem, Yujin and Wonyoung’s tongues slide across your shaft; their lips meet, pull apart, drag wet against your cock and kiss once more—these soft, ephemeral touches that leave all three of you yearning. Every now and again, one of them will take you further into the heat of their mouth, but it’s nothing selfish or ambitious, as they’re soon back to giggling and making out like the head of your cock isn’t resting every so reliably between them.

"Should make him paint our faces," Yujin says, smiling and rolling her fingers through your balls.

Wonyoung scoffs, "don’t get ahead of yourself."

This how your Sundays spend you, if you’re to be honest. The three of you never do make it to church (Saturday evenings so quickly turn to night to morning in the flash of an eye, and you’re all too sore and aching to get out of bed), but there’s no lack of worship to be had at the edge of Wonyoung’s bed—heads bowed in reverence as these two sets of heavenly lips cushion the length of your cock, tongues lathering and slipping about its sensitive skin. No, it’s not any substitute for a pew: they’re not kneeling or genuflecting or gazing up at you with their big wide eyes, watching for a sign from above—that you might wince and furl your brow; pull your cock back and jerk off until you paint over their angelic faces.

But as you run your fingers through their hair, gently fuck the unholy union where their soft, wet lips meet, the only thing curling off your tongue is an irreverent hiss, "fuck, girls, Jesus, I probably could cum like this." You reach forward, and plant a hand on Yujin’s ass, watching her soft skin ripple at the impact—she just squeals when you do it again, harder. "Fuck."

"Don’t," Wonyoung snaps. "That’d be, like, a total waste." She gets her fingers on your balls, and tells Yujin, breath hot and kissing the skin of your cock, "now watch me sweetheart. You start first, here, slow at the tip—"

The little kiss that Wonyoung plants at the end of your cock quietly makes it way down and around your shaft, and then it’s her tongue reaching beyond her lips to swirl and twist about your sensitive shaft. Yujin takes a mental note, grinning and teasing her fingernails across your stomach like she’s was watching it all for the first time, whenever Wonyoung makes you groan.

"Well, aren’t you lucky," Yujin tells you, as she studies the masterclass that is Wonyoung sucking cock. She strokes you every now and again, bringing her own hands into a cadence that matches how Wonyoung fucks you with her lips, even if it’s almost an afterthought.

"Her pussy’s better," you admit, even if she can easily get you shaking and cumming with only her tongue. Railing your girlfriend’s cunt is a completely different kind of pleasure, but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth or the lips or wherever it is your cock is being serviced—it’s ecstatic perhaps, diffuse, expressive, the way Wonyoung takes you in her mouth. She twists. She laps. Her cheeks hollow and she sucks. In the right hands—and Wonyoung is absolutely on that list—you feel intensely wanted, intensely taken care of and it makes your balls ache, your cock twitch.

"I can feel you throbbing," Yujin says, eyes beaming up at you and swiveling her hips about, ass waving ever-so-raised in the air above Wonyoung’s bed sheets—that’s an image you’ll tuck away, be sure to return to.

"Yeah," you manage, and you’re reeling when both girls get their fingers locked around your shaft, pumping you in a perfectly fucked harmony. "It feels, ugh, incredible."

"If she isn’t every bit as dangerous when she goes down on me." Yujin laughs, knowing that Wonyoung’s mouth is warm and wet and perfect. Knowing that she’s begging for stern recourse when she fists a handful of her luscious dark hair and pushes your girlfriend’s bobbing head down nearly to the base of your cock, continues to egg her on while making her choke and spit, "oh, good girl, suck that cock, you lovely, pristine, whore—"

The ire in Wonyoung’s face—brow twisting and eyes narrowed—says it all when she pulls herself off you. There’s a visible tear or two forming on the end of her long lashes and a hand pumping your shaft to make sure you’re hard and every bit as unyielding for Yujin’s throat. "Fuck. I suppose you don’t have to learn anything, you brat."

You catch the devilish glimmer in Wonyoung’s eyes as your eyes meet, and the corners of her mouth twist into this smug smile as she tumbles backward and lands at Yujin’s hips—gets them propped up and her face between her legs.

"Oh fuck," Yujin says as the realization comes to her, in the breath before you get your hands in her hair and slip her mouth around your shaft. Her tongue flutters beneath the sensitive belly of your cock, nothing controlled or meticulous, but to her credit, you’re also punching straight to the back of her throat, these choked sounds spilling up from her chest each time your cockhead brushes with the hot, wet space you can only reach from her perfectly slacked jaw.

Now you have to pay close attention to something that’s going to seem obvious at first: the two girls are nothing alike. Wonyoung has you mapped out and understood to a dangerous degree, can make you cum and wail and gnash your teeth (the kind of skillful tonguework that now has Yujin humming and moaning onto your cock as it currently arrives between her thighs), but the thing about Yujin—her mouth is simply made for fucking—as if each time you socket your cock away in her throat, she’s gained something for it, simply delighted, finds her calling, her purpose, and it gets her reaching her fingers around you, splayed out into the back of your thighs to reel you into her lips again.

Forced to answer—and goodness, you hope the day never comes—it’s impossible to pass up.

She shuts her eyes tight when you draw your hips back, swirls her tongue over where you ache and throb, and relaxes to let you deep into her again. You grunt, she chokes, you might both be tearing up—the wet sounds from both your crotches totaling to a sum greater than its parts—this is pleasure exquisite, and if you’re considering your vices, your virtues, neither of you can quite figure out what happened to temperance.

"Fuck me, Yujin, your mouth," you say, sinking your teeth into your lip until it stings, and your moans start to come out in involuntary dribbles. It’s hard not to note how the corners of Yujin’s mouth smirk as it opens wider to take you in between her lips, granting you more warmth and wetness to fuck your length into. There’s a clear irony in the way you brush those stray hairs out of her face, keeping her image elegant and faultless; you’re aware of it, all at odds at the way you grip her hair into a rough pony tail and fuck your length into her—pull your hips back and guide her down onto your shaft again.

"Feels so fucking good," you repeat, breath heavy at the beck and call of your cock lodged deep in Yujin’s mouth. She coughs again, and you can feel the wet slick of her spit lather you, find you that much easier to take. When you pause, because god knows if you keep at it, you’ll be flooding her throat with a hot load—one that’s been building and aching since the girl pounced on you in the living room and decided to stroke you through your shorts and get you all hard and needy—she simply picks up the slack, gets her hand on your shaft and pumps and twists you until you’re making a promise, "gonna cum, god, keep doing that, wanna cum in your little mouth."

Only thing is, Wonyoung finds a loose thread and pulls Yujin apart first. It’s clear as anything: that fucking tongue is made for eating cunt. Each lick against Yujin’s aching entrance returns her further and further to the basics—breaks her apart slowly so that Wonyoung might know just exactly how to put her back together and do it again.

And you’re left so very needing when she lifts her face off you, letting these loud, harsh gasps replace the sound of her lips around your cock, the sound of you fucking her face and getting spit and pre-cum all over your waist, her chin—it’s a mess. It’s hot and sinful and you’re biting hard into your lip that you might find some way to resolve the issue of needing a hole to fuck your cum into. A total mess.

You watch her spine arch magnificently, thighs shaking and quivering, head thrown back into the fireworks of it all—Wonyoung doesn’t even surface, she’s not there to bring the girl to her orgasm and then cuddle her after, drift away in the pillow talk and the gentle petting and kissing; she continues licking hard and fast still at the girl’s pussy, fingers gliding through the aftermath of it all while she’s sensitive and aching. Her eyelids are softly shut, peering out just over the beautiful mound that is Yujin’s ass while the girl writhing about has hers clenched tight, the over stimulation become too much to bear.

"Oh god, fuck, fuck, oh fuck," she whines, collapsing into the sheets, muscles tensing and freezing until her mouth hangs open—the dam within her at a point that cannot do anything other than simply break.

Wonyoung doesn’t even flinch. You can hear her fingers get messy and sloppy as they continue to fuck Yujin’s tight hole while she steadies the girl with another hand on her waist. It’s always been the truth: Yujin loves to be manhandled, yearns for it, even if it’s Wonyoung’s dainty wrists holding her in place—so it’s to her added pleasure when you swing yourself over the bed and tell your girlfriend you’re going to get your cock in Yujin’s cunt too.

"Gonna fuck her," you spit, pulling Wonyoung up off the quivering, aching mess that is Yujin on the bed. Her body is practically limp, all those muscles she’d spend hours in the gym working to maintain do nothing beyond lie still for you and only jump back to life at the feeling of your cock slapping her ass, labor to voice out a silent cry when you point it towards her sopping, needy cunt.

"Remember," Wonyoung says with an obvious lethality in her voice—oh, she can kill, do it all with a smile—still wiping Yujin’s slick from her mouth with the back of her wrist, "she asked for this."

You curl over her rear and the soft skin of her ass presses into your hips, spreads out across your stomach—it’ll be red and aching and she’ll love you for it. A kiss at her temple, and the promises you’re whispering in her ear make her fucking whimper, "Gonna cum in you, babe. Gonna get you all worked up and cumming again and clenching down on me and I’m gonna fuck this load deep into you."

Yujin worries her lip between her teeth as she nods and mewls like the fucked mess she is. Thoughts sent spiraling at the idea of your hard shaft railing between her legs, the promise of being packed full with your cum—and the kiss your cock makes against her as you align yourself between her wet lips sees her nearly collapse. She just rasps, breath broken and uneasy and you’re not even inside her yet, "Yes, please—need it."

"Oh my god—" Yujin gasps out loud as you slip inside her. She’s not incoherent yet, but all that’s got to be close; you can feel it.

"Hey, don’t cum right away," Wonyoung tells you, "I want to see her cream all over that cock of yours, show me how you fucking ruin her."

It’s a tall order, sinking into the overwhelming tight heat that is Yujin’s soaked cunt. She takes you easily, all worked up and fucked from Wonyoung’s mouth, the expertise of her tongue against her clit—almost too easily. "Fuck, wanna cum," you breathe, curses and expletives flowing like water.

"Oh, I’m sure you will," Wonyoung says from behind you, lips pursed at the sharp blade of your shoulder as she massages circles into your hips. "But you know how it is: only good girls get cum in their pussy. Don’t make love to her. Fuck her. Use her."

It’s almost insane that you listen, that you let this girl who weighs half of what you do sit in the saddle—oh, because how easily you can get Wonyoung underneath you and fucked and falling apart just as fast, get your fingerprints up around her the hollow of her throat until she begs you to make her cum—insane that you’re not starting from where you left off in Yujin’s mouth, pounding and fucking with that selfish, industrious alacrity. That in spite of it all, your hips draw back, and when they dive back in, it’s no more than a slow, methodical, purposeful thrust. Yujin simply fucking keens as you stretch out her cunt, and the sensation overwhelms her, filled so perfectly that all she can do is sink her face into the pillows.

"That’s it, face down, ass up, like a good slut," Wonyoung croons from over your shoulder, voice growling into something dangerous. "Nice and slow, really make her feel it."

You’re still cooling down from the moments that had you almost unspooling and unloading ropes of cum into Yujin’s mouth, but the girl you’re fucking is on the other side of all that, turned the page and blissfully quivering and still in the high that had spilled her slick all over your girlfriend’s chin. You adjust her between your hands, gripped firmly onto her waist—noticeably narrow and tiny to the point that says, oh, you can break her, but then there’s the round ass that cushions your thrusts into her cunt, and it reminds you, oh,she can take more. A lovely paradox to ram your cock into.

"It’s so good, so good, just like that," Yujin keeps repeating, throwing herself back into you and chasing her own high. There’s all this desire, all that neediness, she’s simply incorrigible—and her anticipation begins to consume her. "Yes, yes, yes—oh my god."

"You’re fucking creaming," you tell her, like she doesn’t know it, and you slap her perfect ass so hard she yelps. Massage circles into it before getting your hand sunk into the other cheek. All three of you know it: her ass is fucking delightful. You could get lost in those dimples that sit just below where her waist flares into those wide hips (and you most certainly have). All the curves about this canvas of beautiful satin-smooth skin. As you get your voice out to remind her how stunningly beautiful she is, start telling her to cum on your cock, Yujin practically screams.

Sure, sometimes it may appear like you’re being too rough, too risky, that you’re causing harm, doing damage, and you get how it can come to seem that way, given how you’ve got her body writhing beneath you, fucked and mewling, but here’s the thing you have to remember, and Yujin said it herself: she’s built for it.

"You gonna fill me?" Yujin asks, gasping for air like she’s just washed up on shore, "Gonna make me your cumdump, daddy? Go ahead, do it—fucking use me."

Your thumb is searing its print harsh into her jaw, and you pull her up into your mouth so that your words are clear and painfully articulate, "needy brat."

Her words come out shaky, punctuated by the way you pound her into the mattress, into nothing less than submission. "You—love—this—needy—brat."

She knows it, you know it, because it’s all too true. Because you are ramming, bulldozing, ruining her aching hole; every stab into her tight cunt has her curves rippling and her voice shattering into a million pieces. She moans hard when you bottom out inside her.

"Please." Starts sputtering when you do it again. "I can feel you so fucking deep."

"There you go," Wonyoung says, the sultry sound in her voice tickling the shell of your ear, "fuck her like she deserves, look… she needs it so so bad."

"Hey, I know how to fuck," you curse, eyes rolling back over your shoulder, and it’s a mistake. Before you can continue the thought, Wonyoung kisses you hard—hungrily licking and pulling at your lips like she needs you more than girl at the end of your cock. She’s got her hands all over your chest, your sides, fingernails scraping light across your skin and relishing the motion of you pounding her mess of a friend, the way you’re slicing her voice to ribbons and flooding her throat with wanton moans and squeals and whimpers. And when you’ve got your shaft so deep in Yujin’s perfect cunt that your lips part briefly to make some foreign noise of your own, Wonyoung seizes the chance for what it is, slides her tongue right between them. Nothing shy or reserved about it.

"Mmnnph." She can probably feel your heart racing, feel you coming higher and higher, feel the way you shudder when you get Yujin’s hips further elevated in your grip, settling fast into this angle that lets you stab deeper, fuck harder. But with the two of you briefly silenced, it becomes just the soundtrack of your cock boring hard into Yujin—the harsh thrust of your hips against that fucking perfect ass, the way she’s whimpering in delight—that you have to hold onto, keep yourself distracted from the wet and blistering heat you bury into each time you rail into her needy cunt.

"Oh, of course you do," Wonyoung finally breathes against your lips, a dangerous smile forming on her own, "Why don’t you remind the girl moaning and creaming all over your cock. She’s practically sobbing. Go on, I think she’s earned it."

The way you have Yujin remember it, the pleasure she can only find at the end of your open palm, arrives quickly and without warning—when you bring a hand down onto her ass cheek, print outlined in white and quickly fading, Yujin’s voice leaks out, shattered: "Oh fuck, please." She slides her hands forward, back arching into a curve that makes you dizzy, ass still presenting and proffering toward you like it’s her duty. And whether it’s purposeful or not, she clings to the word like it’s her lifeline, no more suitable to moor herself to than the sheets she bundles and pinches between her fingers, "please, please, I just need… please…"

"Look at that, you’re fucking owning her pussy," Wonyoung purrs, noticing it well before either of you, too distracted in the throes of your own sex to see the signal flares, the warning signs laid out in front of you, Yujin’s knees fucking wobbling and her hips chasing back as you draw your cock out of her cunt. "She’s going to cum again."

"N-Need more… please… more… harder…"

And at the end of a long, deep thrust into her wet, well-fucked cunt, she absolutely does.

"Cumming," she pants, twice.

It’s every bit as incredible as ever, her mouth hung open and barely able to form the words she needs. Your hand is flush against her ass again, meeting the rosy pink glow of that growing stain, and this time Yujin doesn’t simply bounce back, elastic, resilient. She starts to babble, curses and names and thoughts all trading meaning and purpose as she crashes her whole body to the bed—clenches tight around your cock to the point that it’s a challenge to keep yourself between her slick thighs and buried deep between her ass cheeks as you fuck relentlessly into her prone form—however the extent to which it slows your effort, if any, is unclear.

"God fuck, I can’t get enough of you, Yujin, your little cunt is just incredible," you rasp, teeth gritting as your limbs spill over the top of her exhausted body—before a groan, loud and obscene, has the broken edges in your graveling voice striking at a vein laid deep within her, something foundational and base and instinctual:

"Cum, want you to cum, want to feel you—"

"On your back, dear," Wonyoung says flatly, taking enjoyment in the way she writhes beneath you. "Let him fuck you nice and deep, Yujin."

Yujin is nothing if not compliant, putting up no fuss as you turn her hips in your hands, get on her back and those long legs onto your shoulders. You fill her to the hilt. Make her blather and gasp, mewling, moaning, collapsing. You’ve got fingers leaving bruises in her thighs like she’s yours and always will be and she fucking loves it.

"Fuck her hard, love," Wonyoung urges, eager to see her fall further from grace. "Show her how she needs your hard cock. Show her what a slut she really is."

You can’t help but study the way Yujin holds her mouth agape, frozen in delight, tiny breaths punched out at increasingly short interval on the end of your sharp thrusts—incapable of retaliation, some cute quip or needling retort uncharacteristically absent—Wonyoung makes the same observation, swings her thighs over the girl’s face, gets her pussy resting on her lips and lifts a sweetly challenging eyebrow at your perplexed expression.

"Oh? What is it? No good?" she asks, rubbing her fingers into Yujin’s tits, holding them in place while you pound at her hot cunt. "You going to tell me you want to kiss her while you get off and fill her up?"

"If you don’t mind," you choke, uncrossing Yujin’s legs from in front of your chest— because yeah, too tight.

"Ugh, how cute and wholesome is that." Wonyoung slides backward, reaches down to get a kiss in of her own before whispering, "He treats you so good—so open your legs wide for him darling, show him what a good little fuckhole you can be."

You watch as she closes her eyes, pulls at the sheets. She’s unbelievably pretty, and even hotter when she’s all fucked and bothered—blush burning in her cheeks and sweat building at her brow, lips parting and muttering: "Love that… love it… please, you own me. I belong to you, please just fuck me."

Yujin’s such a ruined mess and Wonyoung is enamored with the fact that you make her way, legs opening and wide and letting you sink in. The way you’re moaning together—it’s filthy, it’s indulgent, it’s so unbelievably hot.

Invested now in seeing how it all comes apart, Wonyoung’s holding Yujin still as you bring her knees to her shoulders, nearly fold the girl in half and get her bent at an obscene angle—bottoming out into her pussy, fucking her hard into the springs of Wonyoung’s mattress and crossing those familiar boundaries, the precipice of your own undoing. There’s no backing out. You’re going to cum, going to fucking use Yujin like the perfect little cumdump Wonyoung reminds you she is, and there’s no other way you’d have it.

Your girlfriend’s just dragging her fingers through Yujin’s hair, thumb rubbing gently at her cheek, caring and intimate even though her words cut deep, slice straight to the bone, "Hey, do you know why they call it a mating press?"—there’s no time wasted getting her fingers between your balls, knows with a touch here, a touch there, she can get you to fucking explode—"He’s gonna cum so deep in you baby, gonna fill you up, gonna breed you."

Fuck, you are shaking. Her pussy clenches, grips, and it’s just that good.

"Please, please, I want to feel it. Need to feel you fucking burst." Yujin’s got her palms flat on your stomach, bracing herself, just whimpers in a half response—too raw to be a grunt, too shaky to be a cry of triumph—sounds effortlessly elated all the same as she makes a series of tiny nods, pleading, do it.

"That’s right, take what’s yours," Wonyoung says into your ear, clearly holding back a laugh at the sight of your depravity—still too poised and composed for your taste, but it’s a bridge too far to care. "Do it. Cum. Just fucking use her."

It’s only a handful of pernicious strokes that make it happen. Really, you can count them—one, two… five… six… seven… eleven—Yujin’s breathing in fits and starts at the end of each one. At Wonyoung’s command, that light squeeze from her slender fingers, you’re there: crashing your mouth onto the girl beneath you, kissing Yujin hard and moaning brazen into her lips. They’re soft and cool to the touch even though her breath is heated and hazarded by the way you’re pumping cum into her cunt, fucking it deeper inside her as you continue to thrust and pound and use her like a toy—Yujin barely manages to moan back; she’s yours; you’re hers; the two of you both so absolutely spent, dismantled, fucked.

(Honestly, you spill like it’s the first time in weeks, like Wonyoung hadn’t milked a load out of you and onto her flat tummy with her hands just earlier this morning, and you’ve got hot cum pooling deep in Yujin’s pussy, leaking down her thighs, and making you nearly slip out from between her legs.

Yujin’s hands are soft on your hips, those small movements pulling you somehow closer into her fucked, exhausted, collapsed body; Wonyoung’s fixing your hair, thumb along your spine, to the nape of your neck and rubbing as if to say, you fucked her so good sweetheart.

It’s absolute and total bliss.

The important thing here is not how long you lay there before Wonyoung gets her dangerous fingers back inside Yujin—scoops your cum out from her cunt and slips it between her lips—only that it’s warm and hot and perfect and you wouldn’t mind if you never left.)

-

"Because it’s fucking sensitive," you tell Wonyoung, and your eyes flick up to the whine in the shower’s pipes coming to a sudden stop, the glass door sliding in its track.

"I don’t care."

Wonyoung clambers across your legs, reclaiming your attention as she settles her weight onto your thighs with little to no fanfare. You barely have the time to register her touch across your abs before it’s gone again, and there’s no hiding the lethal quirk shadowing in at the corner of her lip when she ruts herself against your hips, glides herself over your shaft and tells you, "You’re going to fuck me."

Even if it’s the usual fair—you laying there, just under Wonyoung’s weight, all her milky soft skin spilling on top of you—she’s perfect in so many ways. In your arms, in your lap, on your cock, it’s hard to pick a favorite.

"What’s the matter?" she asks, smirking and holding back a laugh (that’s her brand, you’ve come to realize, manifested into something of a trademark; it’s killer), and she slaps your shaft twice against the concave flatness of her stomach. The visual of your stiff cock beneath her navel is absolutely everything: look at how far you’ll fill her, how much you’ll stretch her.

"Oh surely you didn’t think I was going to let you call it quits?" Wonyoung pumps her fingers up and down your length once. Adds a little twist to the end of it when she starts to repeat the motion. "C’mon, now," she murmurs, half smiling against your temple because what a way to set the scene, "talk to me, wanna hear that pretty voice of yours baby."

"Haven’t been doing a whole lot of thinking if I’m being honest."

She laughs out loud. Postures herself, gets her hands raking through her hair, letting it cascade perfectly off her shoulders, her collarbones—makes sure that if you’re going to be fucked, it’ll be underneath the sheer image of perfection. "I’d suggest you keep at it then."

Both of you watched the girl you’d fucked into a hot mess stammer on about the shower as she made her way off the bed—got your heads pointed on an identical tilt when she strutted into the bathroom, cum still leaking down her thighs and her hips positively swaying. If Yujin had become liquid, malleable, in your hands, you’re about to fucking puddle in Wonyoung’s.

"You should hear how she talks about you," Wonyoung says, right before taking a beat to adjust, the serene and elegant lines in her face faltering for only a moment when she sits herself on your cock. "The girl just goes on and on about how amazing your cock is, how you make her cum, that heaven-sent look on your face when you’re ravaging her pussy—"

"Fuck," you hiss out, barely making it through the word’s elegant simplicity. Entering Wonyoung for the first time is always an experience. Wetter, hotter, impossibly tighter, with every inch, and it practically makes you shiver. Though, she hardly makes any notice of it beyond the self-satisfactory hum in her throat, that you’re frozen, dazed, coping with the fact that your world had straightened on its axis.

She lifts her hips up. Drops them back down on you. She’s hot and wet and so fucking incredible, you’re aching. The growl you finally let slip is something feral. Of course, Wonyoung just smiles, a million dollar look, and draws a circle across your chest with a fingertip.

"You know…" Her voice trails. "Sometimes I almost catch myself feeling jealous."

You swallow back on a drying moan. "Yeah?"

"But then I realize something every time."

Like there’s nothing to it, her hips sink onto you once more; it’s pain, it’s pleasure, it’s the wind right out of your fucking sails, and you’re so overcome with all of it when that saccharine sweetness in Wonyoung’s voice starts to dance through your thoughts. The very same instant she surrounds you again in her heat. It’s so surreal it’s fucking intoxicating.

"Oh, do tell," you barely manage to gasp out, reeling at the point of impact: her thighs flush against yours, clenching hard onto your cock. There’s never been a question; Yujin can drain you, but Wonyoung’s pussy is so hot, so silky-smooth-perfect, so criminally tight it finds you speechless. You, with all your charm and wit, silenced like it’s nothing.

"I get to fuck this cock."

You don’t even manage a strangled moan. Completely mute when she crashes onto you again. Envelops you in that tight, blistering heat.

"Whenever."

—and again.

"I."

—and again.

"Want."

Now it’s not like you should be surprised by any of it. On a scale of one to ten, Wonyoung is an eleven, though you imagine if you asked her, she’d give herself a twelve. The entitlement isn’t anything new, nor is it all too undeserved.

So, let me take care of you, is how she says it, which is a sort of comedy gold given the context. It makes her out to be some sort of saint, chasing some lofty and altruistic goal that has no care or regard for the knot twisting in her stomach, the fucking absolute neediness of her pussy leaking and creaming all over your waist.

"God—gah—you are so tight, Wonyoung, fuck."

You shoot your hands forward to get them on her tiny waist, brace yourself against the next bounce from her thighs, the insane grip she has on you. It’s a misstep; and it triggers a riposte. She executes flawlessly—gets your wrists pinned to the bed above your head—reminds you that she’s always in control, and starts to ride you in earnest.

"Let me," she repeats, twice, and you’re at her mercy, entirely doubtful you’ll receive any. She looks at the way you wince, the way you grovel; she softly sh-sh-sh’s you to silence, rolls her hips on you fast and hard and starts to fuck at a tempo that is for her. Her hand is on your jaw and her thumb drags along your lip when she asks you, quietly, "It’s better, right? You love fucking this pussy… need me so bad, don’t you? Tell me."

"The best," you say, voice drier than either of you expect. "So fucking good."

Even if you are hanging on by a thread, you figure she believes you. Because the smirk on her lips grows in intensity, its smolder just as damaging as the way she finds herself fucking you at that angle, that depth—gets her hands planted firm on your chest and sends your teeth into the raw swell of your lip. She holds you there, captive, and makes only the slightest motions; it’s no different than the way she’d take you in her fingers in the mornings—get you cumming and moaning beneath the sheets with these minute, focused touches.

"Ah, I can feel you. Feel you throbbing, aching. Need you to ride that edge, baby," Wonyoung rasps, letting nothing slip or falter in the way she moves—this entire litany of precise, meticulous movements her hips drag out along your shaft—and fuck. Okay. Okay.

Her hand cups the back of your neck. Urges you to sit up, and when you do, you’re at her chest, the soft skin mapping out along her collarbones. She leads you to her subtle cleavage, has you splitting with your nose, your lips, taste of salty sweat on your tongue. There’s the familiar lines of her body—the way the curves and edges of her lithe frame weave perfection, how they all come crashing down at once on your cock. That voice in your head telling you bite your cheek, clench your knuckles, because she’s far too much, she’s far too perfect, she’s everything—

"Oh, because of course." Yujin appears from around the bathroom door post wearing nothing but a towel tucked neatly beneath her arms, the effort at something like modesty a day late and a dollar short. Her hair is still damp, tied up above her shoulders, and she’d wiped all that ruined makeup from her eyes—she’s gorgeous as ever, and clearly a little annoyed that you two started again without her. Smirking, fingernail between her teeth she asks, "did watching your boyfriend fuck me get you all hot and bothered? Oh, I get it. You must be jealous."

—well, almost everything. It’s the fact that binds you all. Yujin simply cannot keep her mouth shut.

"Sit," Wonyoung says pointedly, and gestures at the chair beside the bed. "You are going sit and watch."

"And now you." Wonyoung holds your chin between her thumb and fingers—her eyes ablaze with an emblematic glimmer, that ever present noblesse oblige, and she’s got her words curling her off tongue, arriving like a dagger to your throat, "show her how you really fuck."

If you’re not looking closely, it’d be reasonable to assume there’s something present that catalyzes the following series of events: the ease with which you wrestle the reins away from the girl in your lap, some shift or another in the balance of power. It’s nothing like that. Even in those occasions where you’ve got Wonyoung folded beneath your weight, her face smashed into the pillows, or your hand up around her throat, it’s only ever because she invites it. So when you’ve reached around her tiny waist, gotten your fingerprints all over her hips and found the gentle curves of her slender body easy to move, to lift, to fuck, to dominate, to conquer—yes, you’re chipping away at that facade every time you glide upward, deep into Wonyoung’s cunt, forcing her shallow and ragged sighs to grow more frantic, more agitated, more needy. No, it doesn’t take her long to reach the point where her cheeks are flushed and she’s chasing her breath. None of it changes a thing. The way Wonyoung sees it, you belong to her.

"You—are dangerous," she murmurs against your mouth, lips slanting into a half-smile, and her ankles lock behind your waist.

When you get your hand in her hair, raking your fingers through those dark, smooth locks—gently pull back on it—you are presented with her neck, the gulp that travels through the hollow of her throat when you push your cock deep into her cunt. She’s giving it up to you: all this beautiful porcelain skin simply begging for your lips. Oh, you’ll leave bruises, you’ll make marks, those sinful reminders you’ll later come back to.

"Yeah, yes, fuck," she gasps, several times. Her eyelashes flutter each time your cock fills her completely—when you pull out and pull her hips down hard on you again.

Something must hit the right spot, because her legs tense up around your waist. The first time she cums, she’s all huffs and sharp draws of air. Unlike Yujin, there’s no herald or warning, but it’s still obvious as day. And it comes in waves: first a little shudder, then another. Her back arches into you, face falling into the nook between your neck and shoulder, and she begins coming perfectly undone. She’s sweating, her cheeks are so red, and she can’t stop digging her nails into your back. Princess, you tease dangerously into her throat, and she’s gone, a total wreck.

You expect something, anything, from Yujin—there’s never been a better chance to goad and spur the girl practically melting to a puddle in your lap. But as you fuck through the torrid collapse of Wonyoung’s orgasm, the only thing you hear is that slight whimper from beside the bed. Even though her knees are closed, towel stuck between them, you see the hand she has playing between her thighs.

"Look at that," you start, still moving and gliding into the fucked mess of a lapful that is your girlfriend. "Yujin’s touching herself. You look so good getting fucked—look so fucking pretty on my cock, sweetheart, it’s driving her crazy. She can’t help herself."

Wonyoung just sighs, gets arms over your shoulders and her body even tighter against you.

"Do you think she’d like watching me fuck you from behind? Get your perfect mouth on that needy cunt of hers—what do you think of that princess? I bet she’d fucking lose it."

"And have her… watch you… fuck my ass," Wonyoung pants, and the sharp gasp that suddenly fills the room is priceless. The three of you might be inseparable, but there’s no lack of secrets to hide, stories to tell.

Though it’s a thread to follow for another time, because when you swing your legs off the bed, lift Wonyoung’s slender frame into your arms, get your hands under her thighs and her ass spilling through your fingers, and start fucking her—truly fucking her—she nearly cums again. There’s less distance to fall, certainly less composure to break, and as she starts to clench and tremor around your cock, she finds her voice rasping, begging, "please, I want it—make me cum again, please make me cum again."

It’s Wonyoung’s long legs wrapped perfectly around you. It’s the way she loses control of her breath, gasping as you fuck your length into the mind-numbing intensity of her little, sopping cunt. You wouldn’t trade it for anything, the fact that she’s practically royalty and she’s a fucking mess and she’s cumming all over your cock.

"Jesus," Yujin mutters, "You’re making her cream so fucking bad. She’s so close, fuck her harder, fuck our little princess like she deserves—pound her like she needs."

Wonyoung raises her face, eyes cast in yours, these beautiful pools of earthy gray, to a long silence; a real silence, without even the hint of a muttered curse or blather about your name—she seems completely overcome, overwhelmed, overindulged. There’s a tiny tug at a smile in her lips, and a volcanic rush of heat to her face. You recognize that look: the first you’d ever seen it was when she’d had first had your cock and simply could not believe it could ever feel that good, the way it could get her stomach smoldering and thoughts spinning. It’s half surprise. It’s half unadulterated lust. It’s all this want and need and it says without saying, fill me.

"That’s right," Yujin teases, "make her cum on your cock—"

"Yujin, why don’t you get on your knees for me, and have a taste," you offer, but you’re not really asking, hoisting Wonyoung’s exhausted, still-aching cunt off you enough for Yujin to obediently kneel in front of your cock and get her mouth all over you, licking and kissing Wonyoung’s slick right off your shaft.

As you draw yourself out of Wonyoung’s cunt—slip in seamlessly between Yujin’s lips—the girl suspended in your arms whines: that prospect of you not filling her so perfectly a reality too difficult to bear. She gasps. She shudders. And a sudden relief pours deluge-like through her ethereal visage when you knead fingers harshly into her ass, spread her legs wider over your elbows and place her back on your cock again. She’s so fucked and wet and needy that filling completely in one harsh motion barely even elicits more than wanton groan from her chest.

"Where are you—fuck, I," Wonyoung curses, drawing harsh breath and clenching down on you, onto the absence of your shape when you get your cock again into Yujin’s mouth. Her voice is still ragged and wrecked, but she holds tighter to you, asking, "Want you to—where are you going to—?"

In the back of Yujin’s throat if she’s not careful, is your first thought given the way her tongue flicks and flutters and teases the sensitive underbelly of your aching shaft. Deep in this cunt, follows logically right after that, gliding yourself back inside Wonyoung. If there was ever a lesson to be had in gluttony, in indulgence, this is probably it—and considering the third thought that grows quietly in the corner of your thoughts, you’re probably missing the mark.

"On your knees," you whisper against Wonyoung’s cheek, and she laughs silently to herself. Laughs because she knows exactly what you want. Because it’s hardly anything new, novel, or unique.

(For a brief moment, you consider the current circumstances; should probably consider donating to charity. Who could be so lucky? How often have you fucked both these girls, been the only man with the full pair? That you’re gripping a fist around your cock, stroking and pointing it at two open mouths, those wanting tongues—all doe-eyed and docile and they’re so fucking pretty and they’ll look pristine painted with your cum.)

Good lord, it’s a heavy handful: cum splattering all over Wonyoung’s face.

Never have you been one to play favorites; god only knows it’s a dangerous game, but that’s just how the ropes fly—into the valley of Wonyoung’s tongue, across a cheek, the bridge of her nose, she flinches as you get cum on her brow. Oh, she’s perfect, always has been, and you’ve got her marked and marred, debauched and debased with hot, creamy white like she’s never known another purpose.

"Fuck," you sputter, because you need to catch your breath.

There’s this heavy silence; you’re positively mesmerized. Yujin doesn’t even complain, just captures Wonyoung’s cum-covered face in her hands and brings her mouth to hers. Pulls at her lips with this hungry, consuming kiss until finally, lips smacking, she drags herself away—skates a finger across her cheek and slips more cum past Wonyoung’s lips.

"Did you say in your ass?" Yujin asks, brow twisting inquisitively over a glance that flicks up to you, and Wonyoung lets out this genuine laughter as she allows that kernel of shame to grow ever-so-slightly inside her.

"Yep."

Yujin laughs out loud, toothy grin come to bear. "You slut."

-

You are dozing, curled on your side, and your mind is supplying to you the loveliest dream—or perhaps a memory? It’s hard to tell, but it’s awfully vivid. Someone’s mouth on your own, warm… urgent; the feeling of arms wrapping around your neck, legs brushing about your waist, a familiar hand on your face. Some of it is fuzzy, unclear, as though the experience is coming to you through the fog of a rain-stained window, but then some of the details of the dream solidify, take shape, and you’re—

Is that lavender?

You blink, inhale sleepily, go to stretch, and that’s when everything starts to elucidate.

All around you is the pleasant smell of Wonyoung and Yujin; the feel of an arm around your waist; Yujin’s wavy curls tickling your nose; she’s got one leg hooked around yours and a thigh in your crotch in a way that feels awesome, feels too real to not be a dream, and—oh, wait a minute, that’s because it’s actually happening. Like, right now.

You’re snuggled up with the blankets on Wonyoung’s bed. With the two perfect forms on either side of you.

"Hey," says Yujin, half-sleepy, at half-volume to not wake up the sleeping beauty nuzzled up to your back. She grins because, lord, you are rock hard between your legs—something like an occupational hazard you promise—and she blinks her eyes slowly a few times as she gets her hand wrapped around you. It’s just one pump, it’s experimental, and she has a finger on her lips, whispering, "Shh, gotta be quiet."

The sun’s not quite trickling in through the blinds; you’ve probably all napped past dinner. As always, there’s a week ahead of you, and now you’re aching, sore, exhausted and you can’t refuse her even a bit. It’s a tale as old as well, not that old, but you figure that’s how your Sundays spend you.

[vampirae]

Astrology Observations

I've seen many people saying that air mars are less likely to be aggressive or getting physical in a fight, in part it's true but not all. Gemini mars will say hurtful things or straight up ridicule you that you'll need weeks to recover from it. Aquarius mars will shout and be so damn aggressive in their speech that you'll get immediately afraid of them, the type to really make you consider calling cops on them. I mean you could do, they wouldn't fucking care, they're here to cause drama. Meanwhile Libra mars, oh damn, if they're angry af, they wouldn't ponder, they'll straight up punch you the face. This happens because of their cardinal nature, which essence is dynamic, action oriented, starting up things. They can and would get physical, and really really scary.

Libra mars values peace, but people mistake them and their intentions to maintain it. If you need to slap some bitch to achieve some balance or calmness they would do it. Even through war you can achieve peace, not only by being tolerant and comprehensive or bottling up rage.

About cardinal mars, they're the most dangerous, you should really be afraid to anger them. When they're angry, they're so focused on their feelings that they don't see anything else or don't think about consequences. Also they're the least to get angry, except in youth, or aries mars. You think a Cancer, Libra or Capricorn mars wouldn't beat the shit out of you? Or wouldn't think about murdering you brutally? They can and would do it, if they lose control over themselves.

Furthermore, they have a such exciting and sensual nature, they need intimacy on daily basis and could get even really offended if they're advances are being refused or if you don't satisfy their needs. Really sluty bitches.

Also the types to get into BDSM, usually great Switches or Doms.

Honorable mention is Scorpio mars, another sluty placement, though they perform well in all BDSM roles. Also need a lot of intimacy, to the point they may get crazy or overworked if they don't get it, it's even more frustrating if they have feelings for someone or a partner. They just need to feel like they're drowned in pleasure or they will go crazy. Great partner if you look for someone wild but loyal, basically the best babyboy/master/babygirl/mistress. A big off for them, I've noticed is ménage a trois, orgy, and whatever implies changing partner. They don't love the idea of sharing their sexual energy with people they hold no interest/feelings.

All cancer men placements love boobies, not only venus or mars. Also it's not always about an abundant bust, it's also about the color, how firm they are, the form etc. They take into account so many details lol

Meanwhile libra placements men look for the booty, in this case you have to not be plain. It's not about big booty too, just to have some, they even like smaller booty too but well shaped.

Taurus mars men can be pretty libertine, sometimes even cheaters. They just enjoy attention from others, and are kinda "generous" with their dick. Similar to Sagittarius mars.

Now changing subject, there's a big debate about which of the big 3 it's the real you, well from what I've noticed it's pretty easy to spot. You have to consider your rising as the most important because without it you even wouldn't have houses etc. It's literally your life path, the choice you'll do, how you'll act etc. Literally this mf isn't only about how sexy or beautiful you're it's about how you'll fuck up your life or how you'll succeed. Plus you have to consider if you have more masculine or feminine signs in your big 3. Let's say you have your sun and moon in masculine signs but your rising in a feminine sign, what will happen? Easy, you'll be reserved, shy, you need your time to get to know people but you can dwell well in social situations and could easily make friends or gain sympathies.

Stelliums also make a huge impact, the more planets you have in a sign the stronger the impact will be, even more if you have personal planets in. So about the aforementioned topic, look at your rising sign, at your stellium sign + the feminine or masculine sign of your big 3 and Stellium. Let's say your big 3, you have a majority of masculine signs but you have a stellium in a feminine sign, how will you act? Easy, you'll try to maintain a balance or just go in cycles, one period you're the hot bitch running the show and then start your sexy mysterious hermit era.

I know that polarities (yin/yang) aren't talked about that much, but they have a huge impact on your personality, exactly like dominant modalities, elements etc.

[randomfoggytiger]

"You Have to Go Back to Bed"

Fictober, Day 7

*-*-*-*-*

For @agent-troi, who liked this post Hungry idea.

*-*-*-*-*

"Scully, got any meds on you?" Mulder, head in hands, sat on the edge of his motel mattress squeezing into an upright approximation of the fetal position.

Shutting the door behind her, Scully hastily padded to his bedside dresser. "Did you take any of these this morning?"

"No, and I'm feeling it now."

"I can see why." For a split second, she curled her palm tighter, fought back an avalanche of Why, Mulder? criticisms. Now was not the time.

"I don't need two, Scully."

She sighed, stilled. "Here's one. And here," she added, grabbing a glass of water, "drink this." He must have filled it before the pain became too much.

Although Mulder was gulping the water with gratitude-- head tilted up and back in an attempt to relieve his cranial pressure-- he must have sensed her tension; or known her well enough to guess she would be tense. "I get it, Scully. It was too soon."

"Well, working a case a few weeks after traumatic brain surgery isn't the wisest choice." Lowering herself to the bed, she sat shoulder to shoulder and waited for him to shrug in acceptance. "But you were doing well, before...."

"Before I shot Rob Roberts." He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees and back slumped guiltily forward. "Like a rube, Scully."

"No one could have predicted what he did, Mulder. We'd have to have been in his head. I mean, not even his therapist knew, really."

Her partner couldn't nod, but he could silently acquiesce. She knew his signs enough to read the release of guilt. "You're wrong about one thing."

Of course. "Oh? What specifically?"

His eyes peered up at her, solemn but twinkling. Sincere. "I still can't predict...." He shrugged, a little, shy gesture that filled in the blanks.

"Mulder." This impossible, hopeful dreamer. "You didn't read my mind."

He wasn't offended, smiling at her pat answer. "I did, Scully. I dreamed it."

"And not the first crazy one with me in it." It was fun to flirt with their new line: her foot on one end of it and his on the other, slowly erasing inch by inch until they met in the middle. Only a matter of time before they stopped clutching their touchstones and gave over their hearts.

"But for now," Scully decided, closing the lid on her flyaway thoughts, "you need some sleep. if your headache's not better in the morning, we'll fly home and get you into an early appointment."

"Scully," Mulder started. His hand was on her wrist, suddenly, arresting her before she could sweep out of the room. "I..." He wanted to say something, his eyes darting over her face. Then his cheeks twitched, amused; and she mentally walked back through their conversation.

If he wanted to know her mind, the VCU's Golden Boy could have flipped it inside and out-- had, before they were assigned-- and poured over every shade and shadow. But maybe that was the trick: he could understand the depravity, expect the danger; suspicion a conspiracy lurking in the hearts of human nature. The fantastic, the ghosts and the spooks, acted as an escape from this rote calculation and prediction. Maybe it was as simple as his need to believe in something greater-- in goodness, in distinction, in separateness. In her. And that kept the car driving, and the road going, and life ground to a halt in repeated, unending lines.

Or maybe, she reflected, weighing this new, enlightened understanding shining from his soul, it was those things, until he woke up.

Mind readers, both of us.

"Read this," Scully whispered, raising her hands to steeple her temples. "Ummm...."

"I hear you, Scully, loud and clear." Mulder turned, shuffled backward, and grabbed a pillow like a good little boy. "See you in the morning, Doc."

Rising, then pausing, she turned one last time to lean across the bed, to vainly smooth his sweaty, unruly spikes of hair. "Goodnight, Mulder."

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy! 

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober24.

[finleyforevermore]

🌟CASTING MY MUTUALS IN: SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET!🌟

Side note: I cast based on if the character reminds me of the moot, or if I can see the moot playing the character! If you get cast as a bad guy, of course I don't think of you that way! The reason I casted you is the second reason, I can just see you in that role! Cool? Cool! Now grab your razors, and let's get to cutting!

For those who paid attention to my blog, you all saw this first one coming 😅:

Finley as Sweeney Todd and Zeep (@ziipzeepzop-eez) as Mrs. Lovett

Josh Groban and Annaleigh Ashford as Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for...me!: Sweeney is an actual dream role of mine! Not to mention it'd be a blast to get to play a not nice guy for 2 hours >:)

Reasons for Zeep: I wholeheartedly believe Zee has the comedic chops to play Lovett, and would absolutely sell the serious moments as well. In Zee we trust 😌

Mari (@heylittlestellbird) as Johanna

Maria Bilbao as Johanna in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Stella: Johanna is associated with birds. Who's got "bird" in their username? Mari! I rest my case! XD /silly

Atlas (@literatureisdying) as Anthony Hope

Jordan Fisher as Anthony in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Atlas: Anthony's number one character trait is yearning for Johanna. Atlas' number one trait is yearning for Auden. Simple! /silly

Mikey (@mushroom-hoodie) as The Beggar Woman

Ruthie Ann Miles as The Beggar Woman in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Mikey: Admittedly at first I had casted you as the Beggar Woman, because one, I just couldn't turn down your offer to be included, and two, I was struggling to think of skmeone else to cast you as but the more I thought about it the more I genuinely liked it! I think you'd do a really good job in this role! ^^

Frog (@ofthefrogs) as Tobias "Toby" Ragg

Joe Locke as Toby in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Froggy: I mean....just look at you and then look at Toby and tell me you don't look alike.

But also! Toby is a sweetheart! Froggy is also a sweetheart! I rest my case.

Ender (@ender-outlaw) as Adolfo Pirelli

Nicholas Christopher as Pirelli in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Ender: While you and Pirelli really couldn't be any more different, you're already a very charming person (Pirelli is in fact not that XD) and I think you'd have a great time playing him! Also, this is Tumblr! Who gives a hoot about gender? We can have a female Pirelli if we want!! >:D

Greaseball (@gb-diesellok) as Judge Turpin

Jamie Jackson as Turpin in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Greaseball: Just like Ender and Pirelli, you and Turpin really couldn't be any more different XD but your voice definitely fits comfortably into all of Turpin's vocal parts! ^^

Rook (@rook-specter) as Beadle Bamford

John Rapson as Bamford in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Crepuscule: Just like Ender and Pirelli AND Geebs and Turpin, you and Bamford aren't very much alike either! Who woulda guessed? XD

But I think your portrayal would be absolutely delightful and very funny (very much like his portrayal in the 2023 Broadway revival funnily enough)

And last, but most certainly not least..

What's a musical without it's Ensemble? :D

From left to right, we have:

@sandsmand, Troy (@the-fag-with-the-swag), Ash (@ripash), Wolf (@electricfied-wolf), Razzle (@whistlingstarlight), Ash (@idk-what-to-make-user), Charlie (@gently-decaying-flowers), Cal (@treasure-goblin), Amor (@nuncscioquidsitamor-14), Gabi (@splendidred05), Finn (@lordcatwich), & Eli (@theelispace)!

[babyrdie]

Did you draw Pyrrhus?

Drawing inspired by Sophocles' play Philoctetes! In it, there is a debate between the way that Odysseus does things and the way that Neoptolemus does them. That is, resolving things by cunning vs resolving things by being sincere.

ODYSSEUS: You noble father's son, when I was young, I had a quiet tongue, as well. I let my active hands speak up for me. But now I've gone out into adult life and faced its trials, I see with mortal men the tongue, not action, rules in everything. 120 NEOPTOLEMUS: What are your orders, then, apart from lying? ODYSSEUS: I'm ordering you to use deceitful means to seize Philoctetes. NEOPTOLEMUS: But why deceit? Why not persuade him? ODYSSEUS: The man won't listen. And he's not someone you can take by force. NEOPTOLEMUS: Is he that confident, that powerful? ODYSSEUS: Indeed, he is. His arrows never miss. Every shot brings death. NEOPTOLEMUS: I have no chance at all if I move out to challenge him? ODYSSEUS: None whatsoever, unless, as I've said, you use some trick to grab him. NEOPTOLEMUS: So you don't think there's any shame in saying something false? ODYSSEUS: No, I don't — not if the lies will save us. NEOPTOLEMUS: But how can anyone control his face when he dares speak such lies? ODYSSEUS: When what you do brings benefits, you should not hesitate.

Philoctetes. Translation by Ian Johnston.

Initially, Neoptolemus accepts to follow Odysseus's style, wishing to be obedient as younger soldiers should be to more experienced soldiers. He lies to Philoctetes, gaining his trust by saying that he is the son of Achilles (Philoctetes had a good relationship with him. As Achilles is a typically sincere character, claiming to be his son also gives you a greater image of sincerity) and that he had a disagreement with the Atreides and Odysseus as well as Philoctetes (this part is a lie, a way to gain Philoctetes' trust).

However, after talking to Philoctetes, learning how unfair his situation was, seeing how he trusted him, Neoptolemus feels guilty for lying and trying to abandon him on Lemnos again, but this time without having the bow to help him. For this reason, he rebels against Odysseus, even though he's more experienced. Neoptolemus had obtained Heracles' bow by deceiving Philoctetes, but, disobeying Odysseus, he returns it to Philoctetes and regains Philoctetes' trust. They develop a friendship (Philoctetes attributes Neoptolemus's attitude to being an influenceable young boy and therefore blames it on Odysseus). When Neoptolemus says he is afraid that the Achaeans will punish Skyros for his failure Philoctetes says he will go with him to Skyros and help him defend his kingdom, but he will not go to Troy. Neoptolemus, no longer wishing to deceive or use force, accepts. Philoctetes is convinced to go to Troy by Heracles, who appears to warn him that Zeus's wish is for him to go to Troy.

Thus, Philoctetes and the bow are conquered through friendship (Neoptolemus and Heracles), and not through trying to deceive someone because of an interest (Odysseus). This kind of cunning vs. honesty debate was also used with Odysseus and Achilles, so I imagine that in some ways Neoptolemus is used as a narrative device similar to Achilles. And it's important to say that, although explaining the play it seems like it's a case of bad Odysseus x good Philoctetes/Neoptolemus, I don't think this is an interpretation that should be encouraged given the context. Greek mythology characters hardly fit the dichotomy of good and evil. Remember how Neoptolemus also does terrible things in the Trojan War. He isn't intended to be a typically good hero, even by Ancient Greek morals. He kills Priam inside the temple of Zeus, which wasn't morally acceptable!

Now let's talk about design choices…and know that what's here is unnecessarily detailed, so proceed if you want.

Antenor says Menelaus is broader and taller than Odysseus:

Once in the past he came our way, King Odysseus heading the embassy they sent for your release, together with Menelaus dear to Ares. I hosted them, treated them warmly in my halls 250 and learned the ways of both, their strategies, their traits. Now, when they mingled with our Trojans in assembly, standing side-by-side, Menelaus' shoulders mounted over his friend's in height and spread, when both were seated Odysseus looked more lordly.

The Iliad, 3.247-255. Tranlstion by Robert Fagles.

Priam describes Odysseus as shorter than Agamemnon, but broader:

Shorter than Atreus' son Agamemnon, clearly, but broader across the shoulders, through the chest

The Iliad, 3.233-234. Tranlstion by Robert Fagles.

By comparison, Priam describes Agamemnon like this:

[...] Look, who's that Achaean there. so stark and grand? Many others afield are much taller. true,

The Iliad, 3.203-204. Tranlstion by Robert Fagles.

Which suggests he's not short, but he's not that tall either. This makes Odysseus average to average to short, but wide. However, my Odysseus is notoriously short. This isn't really mythologically accurate, but I wanted to give a range of height and Odysseus was one of the characters where the short king type was most possible (as he wasn't exactly tall already and his height doesn't play a big role in the character. In The Odyssey, when it's mentioned it's to say that Athena made him look taller). But he's not a bearded twink, my Odysseus is relatively wide, which is mythologically accurate.

Big Ajax was famously large and wide, the biggest in the Achaean army. Achilles was probably tall, although not as tall as Big Ajax, as he is explicitly described as an ideal of beauty, often referred to as the most beautiful of the Achaeans, and tall men were closer to the masculine beauty standard (no wonder gods made heroes look taller. Zeus does this to Agamemnon in the first books of The Iliad, Athena does this to Odysseus in The Odyssey). Furthermore, Achilles was certainly the muscular type, but he was hardly massive. Probably a more agile muscular guy, given his speed attribute. So, for example, Ajax is bigger than Achilles in all respects, while Odysseus is wider but shorter. Patroclus probably had a body very similar to that of Achilles, as in Book 16 he takes his armor and puts it on without any problems. Ajax being big, Achilles being agile and tall, and Patroclus having a similar body to Achilles are aspects I kept in my design.

Hector, however, has some difference compared to Achilles and Patroclus, as the armor that fit both of them did not fit him. Zeus had to change its size to fit Hector, although we can't be sure if it was due to height, width or both.

So he decreed and the son of Cronus bowed his craggy dark brows. fitted the armor tightly on Hector's body and Ares surged in his heart with awesome force, filling his limbs with power and fighting strength.

The Iliad, XVII, 240-244. Translation by Robert Fagles.

Considering how he generally equaled Ajax in fighting style/skill, I imagine he was at least larger than Achilles and Patroclus. As for height, I imagine the three of them are the same height.

So, to recap:

Big Ajax is the tallest and widest in the Achaean army. I kept this in my design.

Menelaus is taller and broader than Odysseus. I'll probably keep the height, but my Odysseus is possibly wider.

Agamemnon isn't surprisingly tall, but he isn't short. I intend to keep that aspect of him in my design.

Odysseus is shorter than Agamemnon, but wider than him. In my design, the height remains the same, but Agamemnon is probably wider.

Achilles is tall, but not that wide. I kept this in my design.

Patroclus has a body similar to Achilles. I kept this in my design.

Hector is probably wider than Achilles and Patroclus. I kept this in my design.

And why am I talking about this? To explain my Neoptolemus!

Hephaestus creates another armor for Achilles. This armor, just like the first one that Patroclus easily used and Zeus had to alter to fit Hector, was made with Achilles' measurements in mind. Ajax and Odysseus both wanted this armor, but it probably wouldn't really fit either of them. So I imagine they had other reasons for wanting it besides simply using it. I'll explain what my headcanon is for this.

Ajax is greater than Achilles in both senses. I imagine that Achilles and Ajax didn't have THAT big a difference in height, especially considering how Mycenaean armor could be wide around the body, but the width of Ajax's shoulders is enough to not make this the ideal armor for him. As for Odysseus, he is wider and shorter than Achilles, I imagine the height difference was relatively significant…really not ideal for him.

Ajax REALLY cares about his reputation, much like Achilles. This is possible to see in more than one source. Odysseus, on the other hand, doesn't care that much. He obviously doesn't want to be seen as inferior, but he doesn't care if he's viewed negatively or if he's vilified. This makes it believable that Ajax wants the armor because of what it represents (a reward for the great warrior), although I don't know if Odysseus would want it for that reason. Another reason Ajax wants the armor is that it isn't the armor made by Hephaestus, but the armor made by Hephaestus for Achilles. Thus, in addition to its recognition value, the armor acquires the value of belonging to the family of Ajax (that is, his cousin Achilles).

On the other hand, Odysseus may have wanted the armor as a treasure. After all, it's indeed really expensive. One argument given is that he wanted the armor to use as an enticement for Neoptolemus to go to war, but in the chronology usually the Achaeans capture Helenus AFTER Ajax and Odysseus have argued. In other words, at the time Odysseus demanded possession of the armor he did not know about Neoptolemus' prophecy, so he could not have been thinking about him when he demanded it.

In the play Philoctetes, following the instructions of Odysseus, Neoptolemus lies saying that he had a problem with the Atreides and Odysseus as a way of gaining the sympathy of Philoctetes, who does not like them. As the reason for the disagreement, he says that the Achaeans denied him the armor that belonged to his father, although it was his rightful inheritance (this did not happen, he is lying because he is obeying Odysseus). Philoctetes is immediately surprised and asks if Big Ajax didn't intervene on his behalf. Neoptolemus explains that Ajax was already dead, news that saddens Philoctetes. The important thing here is: Philoctetes immediately assumes that Ajax would act in Neoptolemus' defense. Philoctetes realized this after spending little time with Ajax, after all he was abandoned before Troy. Certainly the Achaeans would have known that Ajax would fight for the rights of Achilles and his descendants, spending 10 years with him. So it makes no sense to assume that Odysseus, a clearly intelligent and observant character, wouldn't have noticed this as well. If it were for Neoptolemus, he could give up the armor to Ajax, knowing that Ajax would give up to Neoptolemus. Therefore, in addition to the chronology not matching (because Helenus is captured after Ajax's death), the characters themselves wouldn't act like this.

So…Odysseus wanted it for wealth? Or maybe because of his pride. It's true that he didn't care much about being vilified, but he had his pride. After all, the problem he has in The Odyssey is precisely because he was proud enough to commit the stupidity of saying his name to Polyphemus. So, I'm assuming that Odysseus was wanting wealth and being proud and Ajax was wanting recognition and regaining something that belongs to his family (these are my headcanons, I'm not stating)

Anyway, the armor doesn't remain with Odysseus. In more than one source he passes it to Neoptolemus (e.g. in The Little Iliad). The problem is that Neoptolemus was conceived when Achilles was 14/15 years old, and was born when he was no longer on Skyros (Pseudo-Apollodorus Library). This makes him over 10 years old when he's approached to be a soldier, but he's at most a pre-teen in modern terms. He couldn't be as tall and wide as Achilles.

Achilles, in some versions, is said to be hidden on Skyros in more than one source, which makes him have to be a believable girl when young. So even though he was taller than the girls, he wasn't that eye-catching in size. After all, Odysseus felt the need to deceive him instead of immediately noticing that one of the girls is much bigger than the others. He probably just looked like a tall girl. So even though Achilles was tall as an adult, he didn't have a shocking height or size as a teenager. I assume it's the same with Neoptolemus, especially since his divine blood is more distant than in the case of Achilles (his closest lineage being his grandmother, while Achilles's is his mother).

This means that Achilles' armor doesn't actually fit Neoptolemus, being too big for him. The Library, in the Epitome, says there was an eight-year gap before they arrived at Aulis, which would increase Neoptolemus' age and make sense for Achilles' armor to fit him. However, it's not my preferred version, so I'm not taking it into account in my design. This information is also not generally mentioned in other sources, so it's not like we can claim that it was a constant version of the myth, and therefore I don't necessarily have to use it (it's not the same thing as, for example, trying to make Big Ajax be short or Odysseus stupid).

So here my Neoptolemus is actually a pre-teen (being younger than Achilles at the start of the war) instead of a nearly adult teenager (being older than Achilles at the start of the war). He's not a demigod (he's just the son of one), so he doesn't have the need to be noticeably tall. When Neoptolemus goes to Troy, he's at the age of puberty, so I imagine it's precisely at this time that he starts to grow more. Still, he won't get as tall as Achilles. That's why in this drawing he's shorter than Odysseus, even though my Odysseus is short. He'll eventually get taller than Odysseus, but not now while he's still on Lemnos trying to convince Philoctetes. As for Achilles' armor…remember the part where Zeus makes it fit on Hector? Just imagine that the same happened to Neoptolemus, as he certainly received some divine help because of his connection with Achilles and Thetis.

Having explained the age and height I gave to Neoptolemus, my Neoptolemus is red-haired. He did in fact have times when he was portrayed this way in antiquity and his birth name, Pyrrhus, may allude to this. For this reason, I made him have much more noticeable freckles than other characters (like Odysseus and Achilles) and he can't tan well. He looks more like my Deidamia, but he still resembles Achilles when he was on Skyros. Because he looks like his mother and has an androgynous father, my Neoptolemus is also androgynous. In this drawing he's even more so because he's really young, but this will remain true even in drawings where he's older. The necklace he's wearing used to be Achilles' (given to him by Thetis), although I haven't yet shown the design Achilles wears this necklace (it's important to note that the necklace thing is headcanon, not inspired by mythology).

[dootznbootz]

I'm not very fond of Epic AUs where Odysseus adopts Astyanax.

It's fine for a one-off joke or comic and ofc this is just my opinion but... if Astyanax lives (like in Racine's play), he should always stay with Andromache. His actual mother, yk. Not with one of the men who sacked Troy. Zeus' prophecy is bound to happen and Odysseus knew keeping the infant around was a bad idea.

If Astyanax dies, I want to see him in Elysium with his father, finally in a peaceful place and having all of eternity to catch up. Then Andromache joins them (sending her to Asphodel would be too cruel) and they finally reunite.

Would anyone picture Neoptolemus adopting Astyanax ? The son of Achilles, who dragged Hector's body in a chariot. No ? So Achilles' associate doing the same would be weird.

And Odysseus ? I want him CRAVING for a son, waiting for so long until he can express his paternal affection (and always cursing Palamedes even after his revenge 😂).

Him meeting Telemachus all grown up should be his first real shot at fatherhood. It'd be underwhelming if he already had a little boy with him. If Telemachus has a little brother, Penelope should be the mother. Or they adopt another baby together afterwards. No Astyanax and ESPECIALLY NO TELEGONUS !

So yeah, imo Astyanax and Odysseus don't belong with each other. Any thought ?

Headsup: This is just an opinion. My opinion does not matter. If you like this AU, PLEASE don't let that stop you from creating! Just because it's not for me, doesn't mean it's not for you or for someone else :D

I absolutely agree and you absolutely put into words WHY.

There's the term "woobifying" and in some cases...I think that's what people just often do with Epic/The Odyssey. (especially from Epic) I'm saying as someone who is a very soft and fluffy person. I love soft and sweet fics and ideas. I love stuff that makes me smile. But I almost feel as though with certain soft things, you're taking away what makes characters who they are. which DOESN'T make me smile lol

like I think there's more fun in simply a "no-war AU" than the "Astyanax lives AU" xD like, that way, Odysseus is with his family, gets to be a dad, Astyanax gets to live (let's not think too hard about how "no war may have meant no Astayanax")

As that way, they still get to be in character as well.

Penelope and Odysseus for example, are scallywags lol. They scheme and swindle. They giggle and kick their feet when they get extra cattle. They hold grudges. They can be snooty and prideful. They're as full of love as they are full of hate. Odysseus, during the Sack of Troy, in both the Odyssey AND Epic, will do whatever it takes to get home. Like yes, in Epic, Jay has it where Odysseus has to "become ruthless" but I can understand what he's doing with the narrative. Odyssey Odysseus? Um...Iphigenia is proof that Odysseus is already ruthless.

Btw, why is Astyanax the only one Odysseus would want to save with these AUs? What about Iphigenia? Is it because of Epic?

Yes, I DO think Odysseus (and Penelope for that matter) have a lot of parental instinct. I plan to write Odysseus carving lil wooden toys for random kids just as something to do. He does tricks. (ngl, while it seems they weren't around in the Mycenaean era, Yo-yos were a thing in ancient Greece. I just KNOW Odysseus would be the type to do so many tricks. (also string and wood🥹)) He has a soft spot for Greater Ajax's boy. My goober was friends with Menelaus and Agamemnon even before he met Penelope (he saw two exiled guys take back their kingdom and thought "hm??? vulnerable state??? They're very rich?? hehe >:3" but then became fond of them. The reason why he went to Sparta was to help Menelaus with Helen but fell in love himself.) and he's carved lil toys for Agamemnon's kids

He's carved lil Iphigenia toys. She likes Dolphins. He still helps sabotage the letter in some myths and even hypes up the crowd.

Even if it IS just based on Epic, "The Horse and The Infant" and "Just a Man" are HUGE turning points for Odysseus. Or even just a show of character. Like yes, "Odysseus is learning ruthlessness" but he already is ruthless. He literally says "I would trade the world to see my son and wife". AND HE STILL DOES THE DEED! HE WAS RUTHLESS SINCE THE BEGINNING! The Second song in the Musical and it already tells you about Odysseus and what he is willing to do. Is he sad and haunted? Yeah. Still did it.

And I really love that as that's Odyssey Odysseus as well! Odysseus isn't an unfeeling violent villain. He's just a man.

Also...What happens in the Odyssey is no fucking place for a child. ;~; The cyclops, the Goddesses, the monsters? Why should a lil boy be anywhere near that? How did he survive while drifting to Ogygia? Does Poseidon try to keep them together? As no one would be in the state to take care of each other together for that many days.

And in general, in the Odyssey, to me, it's such a huge thing that he literally lost EVERYONE. THAT HE IS ALL ALONE. All of the people who were with him are now dead, and there was nothing he could do. It was already fated.

It's horrible but there's something so poetic in him being the "Sole Survivor", especially after all the hell he went through.

Also yeah, I DO really hate the thought of Telemachus knowing "You took care of this baby when I needed you?". Like my OdyPen have a daughter after he returns as the whole "only one son" and that's already really hard for Telemachus to watch Odysseus be a father for her, regardless of how often and how adamantly Odysseus reassures him that Odysseus desperately wished to do the same with him.

[caffeinatedattorney]

Okay so there are two tapes in game where Harvey speaks.

The first tape Harvey appears in is (#10) where Harleen and Harvey appear. She complains to him about Crane's experiments, implying Harvey's partly responsible for his presence there? and that Harvey trusts him. Apparently Crane is there to help Harvey in court and evaluate inmates. He says it's a necessary evil and he tells her to kick rocks.

The second one, tape #13, is interesting. It's found in the ship where you find out Harvey is the rat king near the console. The tape starts with Harvey asking Crane for help. But then...

HARVEY: I just... I-I lost it. You shoulda seen the police photos. This bastard didn't just beat his kid, he starved him! Kept him locked in a closet for six months. Eight years old, fighting with this- with the rats over scraps of food. When the cops finally freed him, his kidneys had failed and his heart was scarred by infection.

Foreshadowing. And guess this confirms for me that Harvey becomes retraumatized by his job and knows it but won't quit.

CRANE: My goodness. Harrowing stuff.

HARVEY: And his dad has the nerve to take the stand and tell the court his kid deserved it? Piece of shit's lucky I only took a couple of swings at him. Besides, I might've just torched my whole career.

CRANE: Oh, I doubt that. You're a hero in the papers. "Two-Fisted DA Decks Deadbeat Dad." The public's behind you on this.

HARVEY: My own dad's to blame for my short fuse. But I can't lose my temper like that again.

CRANE: Your father? I'd like to hear more about him.

So Harvey had been having issues waaay before Batman was in the picture? (Also Harvey sounds so sinister saying "Piece of shit's lucky I only took a couple of swings at him." Love Troy Baker's performance and how Elijah Wood gives this impression that he's just letting Harvey talk to examine him like another one of his tests subjects-- i mean patients.)

And it's BTAA scarecrow and Harvey again, but Bruce isn't there to help

HARVEY: You really think this stuff will help?

CRANE: Early trials are quite promising. Now, hold this, hold it- There you go. And take three deep breaths. Good.

HARVEY: *Inhales loudly*

CRANE: I want you to consider that your recent outbursts may be stress -induced. Building a case agaisnt Carmine Falcone clearly had you burning the candle at both ends.

HARVEY: Well, tell that to the press. All i hear about is how "the batman brought down the Roman Empire." We worked together, y'know. Me, him, Gordon, too. [laughs] Ah, I'm starting to lose my cool again.

Harvey's voice is way way lower. Okay, Harvey is mad about someone else taking credit. Guess that explains his reaction to seeing batman again. More ppl taking advantage of him.

CRANE: No, no-no-no, that's good. Good. We've already touched on how much you've been repressing. Themore you try to contain your shadow, the more that aspect of your psyche starnates and festers. We need to bring it to the light.

HARVEY: [almost a whisper?] Drag if out of the darkness? That's what I've been trying to do with this whole city. Too many trials. Too many appeals. Better let fate judge. Fifty-fifty, like flippin' a coin. Better odds than my old man gave me.

HARVEY: No, it's um, getting worse. The headaches mostly.

CRANE: That's only a function of your conscious mind giving way to your shadow self. As it rises to the surface, your awareness becomes fuzzy in a neurological sense as you grapple with the--

HARVEY: [as a whisper? / hiss?] That's not it. It's never been this bad. Gilda is scared. And I am too.

OKAY so, Gilda must have left at some point because Crane is making him worse. He already believes in the coin. This Crane is so interesting thinking talk therapy is universally effective with dissociation and trauma. He seems to genuinely believe in what he's doing.

CRANE: you fear becoming your father. You fear you'll assume his worst traits as you get older.Please: sit. Have a sip of water. Good, good, good. Listen thins always feel more intense just before the real healing begins. You are making remarkable progress.

HARVEY: We.

CRANE: Hm?

HARVEY: 'We' are making remarkable progress

CRANE: Of course, Mr. Dent. This is good for both of us.

So, safe to say, Crane caused this lmao.

Also, In the tape between Arnold and Harley (#3), Arnold has the same symptoms as Harvey but he doesn't seem to have the puppet yet until she encourages her to do so? so unless i'm missing something, it kinda seems like Crane's treatment is the one causing DID like symptoms.

Okay, I heard the tape between Joe and Thompkins (tape #8) and it seems everyone gets headaches so it's not DID per se. (also Leslie used to have a free clinic in park row and a crisis center for kids. idk if at the same time or the same place, tho)

LESLIE: Any other complaints?

JOE: Just some reactions to Dr. Crane's treatment. Headaches. Can't remember some stuff.

Okay, next part.

HARVEY: Doctor, I wanna stop the treatments.

CRANE: But why?

HARVEY: Why? What the hell happened to your lab rat this morning?

CRANE: it's the unfortunate reality of medical testing that on occasion we have to put an animal through a measure of discomfort in order to-

HARVEY: The shit you got me breathing melted its fur off! Melted its skin.

CRANE: Mr Dent, the individual chemicals in this solution are heavily corrosive but, when properly diluted they are intert and stable.

HARVEY: Inert and stable? I-I-I don't know-

CRANE: Harvey, Harvey. I've been reviewing our recorded sessions and i'm confident you're on the cusp of a major breakthrough. Trust the process. If not for yourself, then do it for Gilda. Doesn't she deserve a healthier, happier husband?

HARVEY: [basically a growl] Crane, if my symptoms don't resolve soon, I'm out.

CRANE: I understood. You're making the right choice. I'll prepare the dose.

This is insane. There's... so much here. Crane manipulates Harvey into using the treatment bc Harvey loves Gilda so much. Harvey was aware of what that thing could do (adding humiliation to having his own face burnt off by some malone?) This must have implanted the idea in his head about being a lab rat and staying one forever bc of his self doubt and letting it get this far.

I wonder if Crane's treatment actually fucked him up the way something like, idk, joker gas would, rather than that darkness coming solely from Harvey? but then again, Harvey beat up a man in court in front of everyone so it wasn't that big of a step.

TLDR; Everything is kinda Crane's fault.

[littlesparklight]

do we know how Helen reacted to Paris’ death? and how did her reunion with Menelaus go?

Very few of the sources we know that might have touched on it (like the Little Iliad) have survived intact. (Or survived at all, in cases of other treatments of the war that we know about, or don't know about.) We only have a couple late sources, as far as I am aware, that say anything - but whether they're representative in any way, we don't know.

Paris' death Dares: "Helen took part in the funeral with loud lamentations. Alexander, she said, had treated her kindly; [...]" and "Helen, returning home with Menelaus, her husband, was grieved more deeply than when she had come."

Dictys makes no specific mention of how Helen reacted to Paris' death.

Quintus of Smyrna and his Posthomerica: "[...] but long and loud lamented Helen; yet those wails were but for Trojan ears; her soul with other thoughts was busy, as she cried[...] (skipping the actual speech here) So cried she: but for him far less she mourned than for herself, remembering her own sin."

So I guess that depends on if you'd say this means no honest grieving at all, or some. Or if Quintus means there to be some, in truth, or none; he also specifies that no one but Oinone grieves Paris in earnest, despite that, compared to the qualifiers he gives Helen's lamenting, Hecuba gets no such and she seems to be in earnest if it weren't for that comment. (Quintus is also, like often happens later, writing very moralising. Obviously Paris is then not going to get much from him.)

The reclamation of Helen The most usual, and perhaps until late only version of Helen and Menelaos' reunion, involves Menelaos threatening her life (and Aphrodite interfering). Ibycus and the Little Iliad both seem to have had this, and it's possible (neither the summary nor the surviving fragments say anything about this) Iliou Persis had it as well. Some want to claim a lack of attempted violence on Menelaos' part in the Sack's version, but we have no proof of that either.

Vase art has a couple variants, which generally are on a line of Helen either fleeing from Menelaos/Menelaos dropping his sword, or already leading Helen away, sword in hand. Generally this is pointed at her (an obvious threat) or merely held, but as I understand it from the academics I've read, in this case the sword is still an implicit threat towards Helen, and not, and some may want to claim "meant to secure their safe leave from Troy". Aeneas, for example, as he leads his family away, is never shown wielding a sword (no matter which way it might be pointed), despite that he, surely more than Menelaos, would need one.

(Guy Hedreen is a good jumping off point if you want to read more.)

As for what our late surviving sources say, Dares makes no mention of their immediate meeting during the sack. The only reference is the same one I quoted up above under the death of Paris.

Dictys: "First of all, Helen was freely given to Menelaus;" and "When Troy had been taken, Ajax had been the first to propose that she should be killed because of the troubles and sufferings she had caused for so long a time. Many good men had assented. But Menelaus, still loving his wife, had gone the rounds, and plead for her life, and finally, through the intercession of Ulysses, had won her back unharmed."

So the situation seems similar to Euripides' Trojan Women, in that Helen was treated as a captive to be handed over, but, here we have seeming break from the version of Menelaos attempting to murder Helen. Dictys says nothing about how Menelaos reacted to Helen when he found her during the sack, merely that he tortured Deiphobos to death. And despite the apparent situation of Helen being treated as a captive, compared to TW Menelaos acts to keep Helen safe - but, as we see, a threat to Helen's life post-sack, if not from Menelaos then all the Achaeans, clearly remains a feature.

Quintus of Smyrna: "Menelaus mid the inner chambers found at last his wife, there cowering from the wrath of her bold-hearted lord. He glared on her, hungering to slay her in his jealous rage. But winsome Aphrodite curbed him, struck out of his hand the sword, his onrush reined, jealousy's dark cloud swept she away, and stirred love's deep sweet well-springs in his heart and eyes."

There's more after this, Menelaos pretending to continue the attack after Aphrodite has turned his heart and Agamemnon stopping him. Then later as Menelaos leads her out, though Helen fears being attacked by the Achaeans, Aphrodite intervenes again, making sure they're all struck, basically as Menelaos already was.

So in Quintus the threat to Helen is really emphasised. There's not just the intended intimate revenge from Menelaos, but also a potential general one from the Achaean forces as a whole.

What we basically have, then, is that Helen's survival isn't a given. Aphrodite will ensure she survives, of course. But from the mortal end of things in most sources, from threats during the sack (by Menelaos) to post-sack threats from either Menelaos (Trojan Women) or the Achaeans as a whole, Helen's survival isn't seen as a necessary condition for the victory. In fact, in some ways, Helen paying for her life (for the apparent, in the case of kidnapping, or actual, where she was willing, adultery) seem to be intimately bound together with the Achaeans' victory.

Only divine intervention (via Aphrodite giving Helen sanctuary and inspiring Menelaos' former love) in most sources, until we get to Dictys' and Dares' realistic and godless versions, saves Helen.

[noemitenshi]

You mentioned before you had a theory Troy is a virgin. Why is that?

Hi nonny :) I gotta be honest with you, it's pure vibes 😂😂😂

Ok, let my try a more serious answer... So, there's not a lot of textual evidence either way… however. Fromt what we are shown of Troy in s3, he seems very much to be an all or nothing guy. Means, at least for me, that I can't see him having had casual sex. If he did have sex I think he had to be deeply in love with this person(s). But since he makes no reference to love lost or anything like that, not even once, not even a little, I don't think he'd been in love before. Additionally, consider his dating pool; I think it is rather small. Sure there are other people on the ranch he could've dated but again nothing like that is shown in canon (like what I could believe is that he had something going on with Mike… or well, I could understand if people thought that haha). But overall he doesn't seem interested in anyone on the ranch in that way. Then there's of course the nearest town (where he presumably went to school, and then later on where just Jake went to school)… I think his bad reputation probably made the rounds there, too, so it's not like people were lining up to meet him… And I don't think that Troy sought out social situations like, dunno, going out partying or whatever. Later on hanging out in a bar.. can't see that either honestly. He doesn't seem interested in "frivolous" things like this. Then there's Jake's friends, as potential partners. Though I think Jake warned everyone he brought around off Troy. I also believe that he didn't really bring people over often - ashamed of his family, his drunk parents, his out of control brother… So even if Troy tried to hang out with them I think Jake made sure he didn't feel welcome (I think he may have humiliated him… Troy's not easy to scare off but humiliation from his family (=ppl he cares about) might work. I base this on his reaction when Madison went "wanna be a mama's boy?" and all that). So yeah, I get the sense that Troy hasn't experienced love yet (and thus no sex) which is why he's so responsive to Madison and later on Nick - though I think in both cases this isn't a romantic love - if you favor another HC that's valid too :) Just not my cup of tea. In either case he's been starved for love/affection all his life, is my point.

(Also personally, I just love writing Troy as a virgin, experiencing his first time late in life, every touch felt so strongly, the way he'll get overwhelmed so quickly from almost innocent touches, a few kisses… the wide-eyed, trembling expression he's sure to make at his s.o. as if they are his world, his lifeline… It's a lot of fun)

Thank you so much for the ask and have a great day 🧡

[polifandom]

high school musical drama club analysis

im rewatching high school musical, as one does, and it didnt strike me till now that the drama club (or at the very least sharpay, and ryan by association) is actually pretty popular

lets start by making it clear that the basketball team is presented as the highest ranking in the school hierarchy, which is shown by intances like chad telling troy after status quo that "because he auditioned for the musical, people now think they can talk to them"

it is a constant throughout the entire show that we see how relevant the basketball team is for the school, so much in fact that the principal favors them and has basketball decor in his room

BUT what it is not so obvious is that the drama club is also popular! now, how have i come to this conclusion?

firstly, sharpay immediately is presented as a desired girl by the entire male population of the school (remembering, of course, that sharpay and ryan, but especially sharpay, are the faces of the drama club)

secondly, chad and the basketball team are not upset that troy wishes to audition for the musical because it would be "social suicide", which you might expect in a situation like this in any other high school show (which is the case of glee, another one of kenny ortega shows, so it goes to show that he's acutely aware of this directing choice), instead being upset because "people should stick to the stuff they know" as the song statuo quo says and because troy is the "basketball guy"

thirdly, chad, who was outraged the skaters now think they can talk to them, approaches ryan and sharpay when they are looking at the call back list (which we can analyze as chad seeing them as somewhat social equals)

fourthly, this might be a reach, but seating in the cafeteria in high school shows usually represents some form of hierarchy, the less popular kids sitting close to the trash cans and the more popular ones sitting at the better tables. what we know for a fact is the drama club table, because other than ryan and sharpay there's also kelsi sitting in it, is placed above the stairs at the very center, overlooking the entire cafeteria

fifthly, sharpay mentions how gabriella getting the part with troy would mean the scholastic club would go from drool to cool, meaning, at least in her manner of speaking, the club is below them

and lastly, chad, who is the most vocal in his disdain of the drama club, only speaks badly on in as ut opposes to basketball, telling troy following a musicak career would get him in his fridge as well, but mostly not attacking the musical directly other than making fun of its name "twinkle town"

anyways, overall i just think its interesting how the plot is so much more than you might see at first and i can do a whole analysis just on how much discourse there is on the statuo quo song (which is a fucking banger too)

[sombrashe]

Lord Otto

content gn! reader, older! troy, legal age gap, first meeting, reader’s parents are dead in this, no smut only fluff

note(s) how many times did I put simply and quite? | I see reader as being early 20’s and troy being more his season 8 age so like early to mid-30s

“Excuse me, Sir Otto?”

A voice startles him out of conversation with his brother. Tilting his head to the left he waits for his brother to respond. Only you never take your eyes off him. Bright and wide they look deep into his as you anxiously wait for a reply. You're breathtaking and he nearly misses his brother's words.

“Well, Troy? Are you going to make them wait? They clearly cannot wait to have an audience with you.”

He’s enamored by the way you ignore his brother's exasperated response. Annoyance going unheard or simply ignored as you bow low to show him you mean your words. Rising your fingers never leave their spot glued to your heavy-looking rich skirt. Eyes shining despite him never uttering a word.

“My lord, may I have this next dance?”

He gives a short laugh. A half smile shows off his snaggletooth. One of the only endearing qualities he believes he has. That and his money… he doesn't have many qualities. None enough to catch the attention of someone as starry eyes as you.

“Can not find another suitable dance partner?”

You frown and present your nearly full dance card to him. All different names written in perfect penmanship with one single blank at the very bottom. Keeping the card presented he realizes slowly that you are waiting for him to sign it. To take you up on your offer for him to dance.

“How enigmatic.”

“Vexing is the word you are looking for brother. Asking you to dance, ha, a waste of time indeed.”

He simply shakes his head and takes the small pencil hanging from your card as if not in control of himself. Here he was of noble blood taking up your offer to dance instead of the correct way around. He has to wonder where your chaperone was. He can’t help the prickles of fear that wash down his spine as he signs his name, bold against the ivory paper. Set resting pretty in a diamond-encrusted case. Something he remembers was never offered to the common guests of his ball. Straightening up he doesn't miss the wide smile that fattens your cheeks. You take in the crooked letters for a moment as if hypnotized.

“Brother, you must be joking. Father-.”

“I do not care what father has to say on the matter, Jake. Now if you will let me go I have a dance I need to attend.”

Ripping his arms from his brother's grasp he fixes his waistcoat, white as sugarcane, before allowing you to wrap your arm around his. Following him he maintains a decent distance from you. A given with how many eyes are on you both. Watching the youngest Otto and this random individual who must have bribed him to get him onto the dance floor. Or maybe this was all a ruse set up by his father. An attempt to fix their soiled name. Or maybe, just maybe, you were genuine in your interest to dance with him. Your fingers flex against his linen sleeves, but you do not attempt to pull away as he leads you toward the middle of the floor. Instead, you keep that simple sweet smile plastered on your face as he turns to face you.

“That was a bold move, asking me to dance. Especially in front of my brother.”

“I tried waiting for you to make your rounds. Hoping you would find me eventually and ask me to dance. Only you never left your corner so I decided to make a move myself. I hope that is okay, my Lord.”

“That is quite embarrassing. Having to be approached, especially as a man of my stature.”

“That was not my intention at all, sir. I deeply apologize.”

He watches as your eyebrows furrow together. Something so cute he notices as you start to frit. Bottom lip being chewed on, an action he notices you frequent if your lips are any indication of your actions.

“It is quite alright. I do not mind as one might think.”

You visibly relax and it helps settle an air of calm over the both of you. He settles into routine, step, pivot, step, spin, step, step, twirl. Over and over he moves in tandem with you. Your lips part to allow nonsensical words to fall from them. He listens to you ramble and takes in every word. He doesn't understand why he does. This is a one-time dance. A bored young individual who wanted to fill up the last spot on their card. Nothing more. Yet, he can’t help but fall hook line, and sinker for every single syllable you utter. He learns you are a patron of the arts. Using your valuable resources to fund specifically writers. Taking the time to study up on dozens of authors all of whom seem to fight for the spot as number one in your mind.

“By a Lady is a wonderful writer, she is quite exquisite in the way the letters flow from her pen to the paper. Oh, but there's also the woman who wrote Frankenstein. I really enjoyed how she describes the creature. It is quite sad. Or-.”

“Frankenstein was written by a man. A woman could not write a book with such depth.”

You laugh at him. You laugh at him and he can’t even find it in himself to get mad.

“Forgive me my lord, but a man could not have written that book. The creature is a sensitive thing. There are plenty of great male authors, but only a woman could write and understand the creature the way she does. Of course, you do not have to agree with me and I apologize for speaking out of turn I am simply passionate about writing is all. It’s silly.”

“Please do not apologize. Having strong emotions towards your interests like you do shows that you are quite intelligent. It is sweet. I am quite sure your future husband will think the same way.”

Step, turn, twirl, and your dance is completed. He means to wish you a good night and farewell, but when your hand reaches out to keep him in place he finds himself following you out of the crowd and into a slightly less populated, yet still suffocating, hallway. Smiling up at him you comment how you had a wonderful time dancing with him and how you wished to have one more with him if he so desired.

“I am not one much for dancing. I do apologize.”

Seeing you frown makes his heart ache and he almost leaves right then and there. He has much more important matters to attend to and yet here he is, his heart weeping at the sight of you so destroyed by his simple words.

“That is alright, my Lord. I understand. I will let you go then. I do not want to keep your company for longer than necessary.”

You stay still waiting for him to excuse himself. You have broken enough tradition it seems. Instead, he extends his bent elbow to you. You look up at him with the sweetest gaze as you gently wrap your hand around his bicep and he courts you throughout the halls. Your conversation is boring and he enjoys the time basking in your glow.

“What about sports, Lord Otto? Are there any that you are particularly fond of?”

“Boxing,” his answer is quick and he doesn't even notice that he’s responded until you're looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. Full of wonder and intrigue as you listen. “I am fond of boxing. I regularly attend matches and participate in quite a few of them.”

“Do you win? When you fight?”

He pauses and looks down at you. Innocence coming off of you in waves as you await a response. He’s never been asked that before winning, only ever being expected of him. Never an option. Starting up your walking again he formulates a response through a green carpeted hallway.

“Yes, I do, quite a bit actually. I’m just below Mr. Clark. Do you know who that is?”

“Of course. He is one of the top performers. He is quite a large man with thirty-odd wins under his belt, is he not?”

He is completely and utterly confused. There is no way you could know of his man. It was uncommon for men who didn't actively partake in the sport to know of him let alone someone of your stature. He proceeds carefully.

“He is. How did you know?”

“He is my uncle. I ask him about his fights every time he comes to visit. He gets a little too into the details, but I do not mind. The fights always sound so… brutal. Bloody too, I imagine.”

You kept your voice low to keep your conversation a secret. A young person like you should not be engaging in conversation where the topic involves two men beating each other to a bloody pulp. But despite the confusing descriptors you used what was most confusing was the fact that you were related to the Clark bloodline.

“You are a Clark?”

“My mother was, my father was something different altogether. She took his last name, which means I did as well. So, I am the last of my father's name.”

“Your parents, are they not?”

He was trying to be gentle. Keeping in mind what his brother taught him throughout his childhood. He was to keep unsavory questions to himself, but he couldn't help himself. He was simply much too curious about your answer.

“No. They are dead, my lord. Have been for nearly three years now.”

What a sad response. He dutifully caresses your hand with his. An apology for your loss quickly on his tongue. He has been following your lead and has done little to dissuade you from where you wanted to go. Until now. The estate was a sight to behold in the broad daylight and even now the darkness did little to hide its natural beauty. Moss and vines grow towards the heavens, covering the sides of the home with the front cleaned to perfection for guests. Plant life covers every inch of landscape, only the gravel path for carriages left unnatural. He begins to slow his descent down the stairs as he starts to notice in the distance a large hedge. Upon closer inspection, it seems to open in the middle like a curtain, permanent and inviting. Both words describe you. He should be pulling away. Making a scene to allow everyone from the ton knowledge that he was not the kind of man to be whisked off into a dark corner of the property for god knows what.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the gardens, it’s just through the maze.”

“Where is the lady or master the house? I’m sure they would want to know before we go walking off into their precious gardens.”

“I believe they will be fine with it. I guarantee it.”

“You know this how?”

“Because they are me. I am quite alright with simply showing a guest my elaborate maze and gardens. It is talked about a lot, I know. Quite expensive. I spend every morning pruning the poor little things. This heatwave has been particularly mean to my Hydrangeaceae”

“This is yours?”

He can’t help the shock that seeps into his voice as he speaks. An entire estate taken care of by one person. Someone as young as you? Not even grown men can do it alone and here you were a few years out of your debut with no husband yet a house to take care of.

“It is quite hard, yes, but I have Ms. Daley. She has helped quite a lot and will continue to help me with all the paperwork as she was shown by my father. Until I am married, of course.”

You finish leading him from your home over to where the garden sits, hidden in the middle of an acre of thick hedges elaborately woven into a maze. It was absolutely gorgeous and he never once makes you stop. You simply do. Right in front of the large open hedge which starts the beginning of the maze.

��I go left and you go right? See who makes it to the garden first?”

He is once again reminded of your age as you offer this simple game he was fond of as a child. Grinning he breaks away from you with a nod.

“Deal.”

With that, you're hoisting up your skirt and rushing off towards the middle of the maze. Huffing he sprints to the right stopping at a turn before skirting behind it and following the twists and turns of the maze with little trouble. All the while your loud giggles and huffs of annoyance at getting lost in the dark are crystal clear this far away from the soiree. Shouting out he asks for help when he comes face to face with a decision, right or straight… he feels particularly keen on continuing straight. You simply laugh, an intoxicating sound that god himself must be listening to on such a clear night. He follows his gut instinct and follows the dark hedges straight, straight, straight until he comes across another right-hand turn which leads to another hedge much like the one from the beginning. Stepping through the opening he comes out the other side surrounded by fauna and flora. The garden is massive, with dozens of different types of flowers and even more greenery swallowing the small resting area provided.

“It’s wonderful, is it not?”

“It is.”

He doesn't close the distance, opting to inspect the naturally made bouquets. The sheer mass of flowers that litter the ground and grow upwards towards the heavens has him in awe. The splashes of reds, greens, purples, and pinks look muddied in the moonlight, but he can still see the beauty in the care you have provided for them. The silky feeling of the petals is exquisite and he feels heat rise to his cheeks as he wonders what you might feel like, silken like the petals or sharp like the thorns hidden beneath the leaves. He can feel his skin physically react when your soft hand presses against the sleeve of his top.

“I maintain a lot of primula vulgaris, different types of rosa rubiginosa, and a few bushels of lonicera. That's not all of course, but those are my favorites to work with. Quite a tasty snack when I have been working for a while.”

“They are beautiful.”

You look up at him with a small smile gracing your lips. The bumps and pits that decorate your skin are filled with dark shadows that dance across your face when you shift and he finds it difficult to move his eyes away. When he finally does he hopes you don't mistake the stare as what it is. Staring at the muted colors he thinks of what to say next. He is not one to be tongue tied and yet here he is completely and utterly befuddled. The sun is starting to rise and he lets out a breath he had no clue he was holding. Pinks and oranges start to light up the dusky sky. Turning his head he watches as those colors reflect themselves off the slope of your nose and the curve of your cheeks. You were mesmerizing and only inches away from him. He wants nothing more than to lean down and catch those soft pink-hued lips with his golden-streaked ones. Instead, he simply smiles and decides now is as good a time as any to end the night with you. Knowing how these parties went you would host a breakfast where all the ton members would sit and chat for a few extra hours before letting you alone to rest for the day. Gently he gathers your hand in his palm and raises it to his lips. Pressing those mellow painted lips against the dorsal side it sends a shock of electricity through to his toes.

“It was wonderful meeting you.”

“And I you, Lord Otto.”

A mumbled goodbye against soft skin and he’s separating himself from you. Refusing to look back he leaves you alone with your garden of beauty. A flower sitting unattended.

[jjcanshift]

a little scenario I scripted where Bakugo gets kicked in the balls ｡𖦹°‧

(Jiyuu is me)

The tension in the recent weeks didn't seem like it was gonna die down anytime soon. All UA students and close family members moved into the troy fortress for some tightened security, the calm before the storm before the upcoming war. The systems were state-of-the-art, but there was still fear that it could be breached.

Jiyuu never really noticed the thick air of stress put upon everyone, mostly because she was busy overthinking the current situation to think about anyone else. How else could she be prepared for the fight? If she didn't have a solution for every possible scenario she could conjure, she would never hope to gain the upper hand on the villain she was to face alongside her classmates Shoto Todoroki and Tenya Iida.

She allowed herself to take her mind off things and have a little break when her little brother Benji proposed to spar with her, just like they did before Jiyuu moved to UA. Benji was also an aspiring hero; their father being one instilled that need to help in any way possible.

They started their spar session inside of gym gamma, a place with tons of room to do, well, whatever training was needed. Upon seeing the massive space, Benji started getting giddy. Finally, he could use his quirk without needing to watch out for things in the way.

In the middle of their session, however, he notices something.

"You're going easy on purpose! I'm not that weak, y'know..." Benji whined, obviously offended at the fact that his older sister had to hold back on him. He had been doing some of his own training while she was gone, so he believed he himself also got stronger. It didn't seem like this was the case, unfortunately.

Jiyuu let out a sigh, "Benji, Ma's gonna kill me if I go too hard. Trust me, I know you've been training, but I have to. I don't wanna accidentally hurt you."

He crosses his arms with a pout and grumbles, "I thought this was supposed to be fun..."

Jiyuu was about to scold him when she heard the door to the gym creak open. Mina sticks her head in and notices her, "Oh, hey Yuuyuu! What are you doing here?"

"Just some training!" she yells back, "You need the gym?"

Mina enters the gym, more members of the squad following behind, "Yeah, some of us wanted to run a few sparring rounds--" she pauses when she notices Benji, an excited smile creeping onto her face, "Aww! Who's this cutie?"

Jiyuu chuckles and ruffles her brother's hair, "I thought I told you I had a brother. This is Benji I've been talking about."

"Hii!" Mina eagerly waves at him, "He looks a lot older than the pictures you showed me."

The pictures in question were taken almost a year ago. Benji had more of a baby face back then and was a little shorter. His eyes were a lot bigger, too. Now, they rest in more of a squint with a hint of curiosity, whatever that means.

He looks up at Jiyuu with a raised eyebrow, "You showed her pictures of me?"

Jirou takes a good look at him, "So this is him, huh? You guys look alike."

In a way, she was right. Jiyuu Barikaze was practically the spitting image of her father while Benji took more attributes from both their parents. They had the same black hair, but he had a few brown streaks. Benji had his mom's eyes, a light orange in contrast to Jiyuu's dull blue ones.

Benji crept closer to his sister, a little overwhelmed with the amount of people that were in front of him, "Did you tell the whole world you have a brother or something?"

Sero's the next to share a remark, "He really is a mini-you! Same attitude and everything."

"Hey Baribro!" Kirishima approaches him with his hand extended out for a high-five, "We're your sister's friends."

Benji takes a moment to stare at the hand in front of him. His eye flick to Kirishima's face, then to everyone else, then back to Jiyuu. "I thought only Momo was your friend?"

Jiyuu gave him a sheepish smile. Her and Momo have been tight since middle school, but staying in such close quarters with everyone in her class made it a lot easier to get to know other people, whether she liked it or not. She often closed herself off, but it was nearly impossible to do so at all times.

"Ooooh...I know that stung." Kaminari and Sero giggle at the backhanded insult.

Jiyuu lets out another exasperated sigh, "Yeah, she still is. It seems like you can't believe I made more friends since then."

"You really can't though! You barely get out of the house anyways and wanna stay boarded up in your room all the ti-"

Jiyuu clasps a hand over his mouth, "Oookay, no need to put my whole life story out there.."

The rest of the squad takes an opportunity to introduce themselves. "It's Benji, right? I'm Jirou." she starts.

Mina is next, "I'm Mina! Or Ashido, I don't mind." She stands beside him and begins gesturing towards everyone else, "That black haired idiot is Sero, the idiot beside him is Kaminari, the red haired one is Kirishima, and the blondie standing over there is Bakugo!"

Bakugo stands to the side with his arms crossed, furrowing his eyebrows at Benji, "This kid's your brother? No wonder. He's just as deadpan as you."

Jiyuu is about to fire a remark right back at him, but Benji says something first, "I don't like him," he says while pointing. "This was the one you called annoying the other day, right? He looks stupid."

"You aren't supposed to say that..." she facepalms. No matter the situation, Benji always speaks his mind with complete honesty.

Sero nudges Bakugo, "You just got insulted by a 12-year-old, dude!"

"I'm 13!!"

"Personally, I wouldn't let that slide." Kaminari riles him up further.

He is fuming. Nothing hurts his ego more than an insult by a child.

Bakugo marches towards Benji and leans down to his level. To Jiyuu's surprise, Benji doesn't show a hint of fear on his face. He really just looks bored.

"You tryna go, kid?" he seethes, "Your sister has beaten me only once so far, so don't even try picking a fight--"

Jiyuu watches as her little brother winds his leg up and kicks Bakugo right in the balls.

Benji. Kicked him. In the balls. What a sight to behold.

Immediately, everyone erupted into uncontrollable laughter as Bakugo let out a loud groan and curled into the ground clutching his family jewels.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! THAT SHIT HURT!" he yells at everyone. Everyone's laughing so hard to the point where they can barely speak.

Unexpectedly, Midoriya pops his head into the gym and sees everyone in their current state. "Uh...why is everyone on the ground laughing?" he asks, very confused.

"Barikaze's brother just kicked Bakugo in the balls!" Kaminari barely manages to choke out.

"Holy shit, you shoulda seen it Midoriya! He got his ass handed to him!" Sero breathes, clutching his stomach that cramped up from laughing.

"Oh, okay." He giggles. Visualizing that scenario was funny enough.

Kirishima stumbles over to Benji, still laughing, "You're my new best friend, lil' Baribro! Nice!"

Once everyone calms down, they start a mini-tournament for sparring.

(I'm sorry this was a little too long 😭)

[therogerclarkfanclub]

how come voice/mo-cap actors don't become household names? i mean, rdr2 sold very well and the actors did amazing and contributed to the story being as compelling as it was with their performances. you'd think they'd all get their flowers and be asked to partake in more big roles? i know fame isn't everything and every actor has different goals and i'm sure the rdr2 cast are doing well for themselves. but you know, i just wonder...

I find this as puzzling as anyone else, and I share anon's opinion too. Given how talented Roger is, and how well received RDR2 is, you would think everyone would be knocking on Roger's door to offer him more jobs, right? Well, sadly that's not the case.

And it is also not as simple as having the talent. I once listened to a panel with Nolan North. Nolan is s very popular guy and has done countless roles. And in the panel he mentioned that, as popular as him and Troy Baker are, sometimes they don't *quite* have what producers are looking for, so producers will opt for other actors.

Roger mentioned in some interview some time ago, and I don't recall the exact words, but he mentioned that producers don't see acting in games on the same level as acting on TV or movies, when you know, it *IS* the same thing. I am going to hazard a guess that some producers are not aware of the amount of work and talent that goes on some games, and they probably think games are still like in the 90's, with bad acting like the og Resident Evil, but idk that's my opinion.

[thoninohere]

Childhood Crush - Donna Troy

Donna Troy x Neutral Gender

Warnings: None, just some teenage kisses.

Summary: Donna has her first crush since she arrived from Themiscyra and unfortunately it is your best friend Roy. You have spider powers here, but I give no hint of your backstory c;

You two are around 15-16 years old.

Song: Enamorado Tuyo-Cuarteto de Nos/Meaning and Lyrics :D(Don't worry, the video has lyrics translated into English)

A/N: Currently this is part of a new ff series that I am doing with the Titans, if you want to learn more about it you can enter here.

Word counter: 2055.

...

Donna's arrival was unexpected but not at all poorly handled. She was a new friend and companion who was as strong or even stronger than everyone else there, which wasn't so good for your age.

You reached the age where the issues of sexuality and attraction to anyone could arise out of nowhere; something that had you stressed because even though it was stupid for you that cliché of love at first sight, you could falter a little when shaking her hand to introduce yourself to her.

You tried to avoid her because even though at school didn't care much about liking one person or another, you completely avoided the idea of like Donna, and you weren't going to ruin your group of friends with that shit.

But the way Roy dragged you into talking to her and trying not to avoid her, couldn't avoid it. Also couldn't avoid her radiant (and strong) personality when she was in any case that could never truly evade her. You two slowly became what would be great best friends, it was weird in a way, you have Roy as your best friend -Male- not a girl, so you didn't avoid feeling that either strange tingling in the stomach.

Donna liked photography, she said that the next time came back to Themyscira she would show her sisters everything she had learned these past few months. Her eyes sparkled more than ever when you gave her a new camera... Which was definitely NOT the camera you saved all your allowances for a few weeks. You and Roy took her on a tour of many museums and places in Jump City after that.

Your feelings grew more and more as watched her photographing those times Roy wasn't with you both. She's photographing a brown squirrel and a black one, and you; are photographing her a few meters away, keeping that photo in your wallet since that day with the excuse you imposed on yourself that you were actually too lazy to get rid of the photo. (Cuarteto de Nos Reference) . . .

One time you both were sitting on her bed, you were confused to see how she had a little album of the whole team... Although well, were actually confused to see how had a few pages dedicated only to Roy, and only because she didn't agree to show you the other thing; which didn't push since you definitely didn't want to see how she had pages dedicated to Roy.

You understood that it was possibly some kind of first teenage crush or some shit like that, but it disturbed in some way that made you feel weird. Wondered why she didn't have a page dedicated to you if you were supposed to be her best friend, you even had a little album dedicated to her and only her, why doesn't she have one for you?

She stayed silent with a slight blush as she watched you stare at the already closed album she dedicated to Roy, knew that you two were quite close so she asked with a very soft voice which used when you went into little trances where had to be treated gently.

"Do you... Like Roy? " She looked into your eyes, looking for a mild answer while maintained a calm position.

You jumped a little and looked at her with a raised eyebrow "What?" You asked confused, to which she repeated the question a little slower. Immediately shook your head at that fact because no, you definitely didn't like Roy.

"Well, I was just a little alarmed when you stood there static when you saw my... Personal albums" You knew slightly and explained to her that you were just a little surprised, and explained to her that didn't expect her to like him. Although well, Roy was handsome, intelligent and too helpful, even more so with Donna than he was with any girl you two knew.

She smiled slightly at your correct assumption, so began to ramble about her crush on Roy almost the entire sleepover. And you? You couldn't understand why your chest burned in a strange way and why in the morning when you looked at Roy you avoided him.

Your friendship with Roy faltered every time you just avoided him after every sleepover with Donna (which were frequent) where had to force a smile every time she talked about how Roy gave her a new flower every week. While you just photographed her from afar and portrayed her in your notebook every night; but she, she was not aware of this, you thought.

Donna had noticed how every time you went out to take pictures you always kept a special roll for her. It was not worth hiding the fact that you took many photos of her, she mentioned it to you at some point and told you that it was a very nice detail; and friendly.

At 16 years old you and her were at one of your sleepovers. She told you about how Roy finally took a step and decided to ask her out on a date. She spent about two hours telling detail by detail, until stopped and looked at her special album and did not continue telling, you gave her space and she whispered to herself.

"I didn't know what to do at that moment. I imagined it a lot but I just couldn't take the step and I don't know what stopped me." You heard perfectly and stayed quiet for a few seconds before laughing softly. "Oh my God Donna, have you never kissed anyone, seriously?" Your laughter faltered when she raised an eyebrow and laughed in a sarcastic way.

"Sorry, yes, I forgot." It was obvious, she had never had anything with anyone and Roy was really the first person she had really experienced something close with; and your chest burned again. "Well, you know it's normal to be nervous when you don't know how to do something, don't force yourself Troy, it's something that must be 'magical' as some say."

Donna knew that you weren't a big fan of love and stuff like that, after all never heard anything about romance itself come out of your mouth. She sighs and then stares at you with a hint of fear at the situation "What if he tries to kiss me and I ruin it?" Your expression softened a little, even if you knew that Roy wouldn't try to be rough with her or anything like that.

But couldn't help or control a small thought that crossed your mind. Could have perfectly told her something else about friends like a "Donna don't worry it's something you'll learn in a moment" or something more like "Roy will teach you all those things don't worry I doubt it will go any further" instead, but your mouth opened involuntarily and whispered something lost in the thoughts, almost dissociated...

"I can help you with that."

She raised an eyebrow confused. You thought had thrown everything away until a small smile formed on her confused expression and a small crimson adorned her cheeks.

"Well I-... I really didn't mean to-" And silenced you with a slight -Shh-, laughing quietly. You thought she could make fun of you or even laugh so as not to feel uncomfortable, but Donna wasn't like that, much less with you. "It's fine with me Y/N."

Now it was you who had a confused expression and a nervous laugh. You wanted to tell her it was an intrusive thought or even a joke, but with her cheeks painted and eyes shining like that, because you or maybe for you... Were unable to back out. She sat up and patted the bed so you could sit down too, it was funny, it was you who came up with the idea but the way it is with her gently taking your hand makes it seem like the roles are reversed.

She knows how to read you, and you know how to read her. Your eyes telling that she can back out if she wants to, and her eyes telling that it's okay, that she gladly accepts your help. Even if don't know that she actually accepts it for some other thing she keeps inside herself.

Swallow and try not to get nervous as you bring your hands up to cup her cheeks. You had kissed other people, yes, but no one, definitely no one, even came close to the shadow of what Donna Troy was, no one.

Then you caressed her soft cheeks, wanting to save the feeling of her skin in your hands until you slowly approached her, being able to hear the breathing and even her heart beating rapidly.

The anxiety didn't let you move when both of your mouths were centimeters away, had already closed your eyes and your hands trembled a little until Donna took you by the shoulder and closed the gap between you. Her lips were somewhat sticky, possibly because of her lipstick, usual gloss or because your mind couldn't formulate the sensations well at this moment.

You gasped slightly at the contact and without thinking twice began to kiss her slowly. Donna got a little lost the first few seconds and when you tried to move away she pulled you in so you couldn't get out of the way. Then you did what your only functional neurons could at that moment, slide your hand down the back of her neck and melt more into the kiss.

Her hands traced your chest until they reached your waist, where she pulled you into a tight hug with a firm arm, which made you let out a slight gasp and she, without prior permission, slid her tongue in a slightly messy way. You pulled away a little when she did this and couldn't contain a slight giggle at that.

"That's not how it's done, Troy." Murmured against her mouth before moving away to stare at her and whisper to with a softness as if she were made of glass, how she should do it.

She smiled slightly blushed and nodded. At that moment it didn't even seem like you were just best friends, it felt strange but comfortable enough that neither of you had to really say anything.

Donna sighed and roughly pulled you back by the shirt, you were used to her being enormously stronger than you, so there really wasn't any complaint at all. But at this point, you're the one who melts when she merge her lips with yours like a puzzle. You open your mouth slightly for her to slide the tongue in, and this time in a more orderly manner.

After a few minutes you had gotten too used to Donna's mouth, the taste of her lipstick and how it can be a little sticky because it's combined with a bit of gloss. It was intoxicating, enough to make you stare at each other with your mouths stained a faint red after a somewhat heated session for two teenagers.

No one could say anything, and when one tried it only let out a small ecstatic sigh. Donna felt strange, she had imagined one or another scenario like the one that just happened, where she has no other option than to fix her lip gloss and be happy with the situation. But this is definitely different, she never imagined a possibility in which you would be the person who had her lipstick stained on the lips, nor the person she would have a session with, didn't even imagine that it could go further than giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Donna, I-." Whisper, but the tower alarm started ringing and you both became alarmed. Didn't bother to wipe your mouth as you rushed to put on the mask and go out with it to the call.

Saved by the bell some part of you would say when you threw spider webs between the buildings of Jump City while Wally ran beneath you and the boys ran between the buildings to go save the day... Or the night already "Crime has no time" as Robin usually says.. No ones hadn't seen Donna come out behind you.

You sigh lightly and banish any thoughts from a few minutes ago, it was time to be heroes.

[itsjustbyler]

Well. About what David Harbor said. He is know for lying a lot, however the way he said it makes me doubt byler for the first time. I don't know what to think to be honest.

From a writing point of view, why tf they wrote Will in love with Mike in the first place? Why all of those problems in mlvn relationship if not for the audience to see them as toxic or at least a problematic relationship? Why Will doesn't have any other love interest? Why they just didn't end that storyline in S3 with the infamous "it's not my fault you don't like girls" and speaking of that, wtf is wrong with Mike? Depression doesn't turn you into a homophobe and Mike clearly wasn't one when he pushed troy for being one. Repeatly stating to Will that they are just friends and that the fact that Will doesn't like girls is not his problem for what if not projecting? It is confirmed that he doesn't know Will is gay and in love with him, so he is just assuming their bullies were right and pushing Will away because of it? I think Mike is so much better than that and if they really wrote Mike to be like this, shame on them.

Honestly, if David wasn't lying, they can not get away with the queerbait accusations.

And also, the way they used byler to promote St day? they didn't acknowledge mlvs relationship and Mike's monologue at all. I mean... I don't know what to think really. I still love byler, I still think mlvn should break up either way for the sake of Mike and El.

The duffers should just straight up say that byler isn't endgame if thats the case because they already queerbated a lot, leading people to still believe until S5 finally drops is absolutely disgusting.

[margareturtle]

Jem: you’re a shadowhunter, Kit!

Kit: and you’re a wizard, Harry!

Jem: oh no I’m not a wizard, but Tessa is a warlock and my name is Jem :)

Kit: BAHAHAAHAHAHAHA

Jem: Kit are you ok? Why are you laughing?

Kit: *wheezing* sorry, it’s just you telling me I’m a shadowhunter, next you’re gonna be telling my I’m a lost faerie prince 🤣

Jem: umm well

Kit: oh really?! Well in that case tell my grandmother the queen that I am awaiting her arrival to claim me as her heir and give me a magical makeover

Jem: I don’t think that you’d want the Seelie Queen to—

Kit: *sigh* I can’t do this, are their any shadowhunters who can appreciate my pop culture references bc I’ll stay with them if I have to associate with the *shadowhunters* at all

Jem: Well I wanted to ask if you would consider staying with Tessa and I? I could help you train with your powers.

Kit: Ohhh I see, you wanna be the Obi Wan to my Luke,, ok ok I could get on board if their are powers involved

Jem: that we have to discover, but I have faith as I have helped Herondale’s in the past

Kit: Herondale?? Wait you skipped the part where I’m a Herondale, that’s like a big name for shadowhunters right? Does that mean I have to pick between shadowhunter and faerie royalty?! That’s like picking between basketball and the musical!! I am the real troy bolton omg 🤯🤯

Jem: oh well, don’t worry too much yet Kit, you have time!

Kit: I have— what? I was kidding, omg were you not?!!

Jem: No, I was not

Kit: OH FU— BAHAHAHAAHAHAHAA