#which makes the choices they make to go on despite despite all the more beautiful 🤧🤧

[portablecity]

my gosh @filletedfennysnake thank you for asking~!

okay! so, short answer: i think it follows many of the same beats and deals with teh same themes of destiny, pride, great acts, submission to duty/destiny/fate, and erasing of the self.

(spoilers for the wizard of earthsea below)

(screencaps from The Green Knight)

(dev patel for ged in a future adaptation filmed by someone who knows how to film the unfilmable please please please)

first we have ged, a proud boy of humble origins finding himself in a place where he has been told he has potential, power, capability, a destiny -- and we the reader are told he will be a Great Man, go on to do things that change the world, become myth

but he can't see any of it yet - he's trying to be good, but really he's feeling a bit purposeless, and he gets caught up in the confusion and frustration of youth

but! it's solstice! a festival! and games are afoot! and young, ambitious, and desperate to prove himself, Ged takes on a challenge out of pride and hubris -- and it goes wrong in a way he could not have imagined - he opens the door and lets in the shadow, right?

and the terms of that mistake are: it is his burden and his alone now. No one else can deal with it for him. And it is transparently a mortal danger from the start.

but he doesn't have to deal with it immediately! he has time to prepare himself. but he doesn't know what he is up against - no one does! so preparation feels somewhat futile.

And then it is time for him to go forth. And he tells himself he is prepared, that he is noble and capable, and that he is on a noble quest - but he can't ignore it. it is a doom as well as a quest.

He is offered false (or true but impossibly costly) protection/aid by a dragon and resists it. He is a good man and he is trying to do right, but he made this choice earlier and it compromises his ability to do right. He is vulnerable because of it.

he nearly dies.

he is humbled again and again, and in his darkest moments he becomes a puppet of fate, arriving on the sandbar to receive and give basic kindness to people so ill done by, so ruined as to seem almost beyond life, who reward him for it.

but he doesn't understand the gift they give

great history is happening around him and he cannot engage at all with it, he is trapped inside his own quest.

and as he becomes more afraid and the fear controls him, he ends up trapped in a castle, courted, kind of, by a woman who would subvert him against her lord's wishes.

She wraps him in gold and furs and he becomes a rare treasure until he realizes what is happening.

She promises him protection but it becomes clear to him that he is worth more to her while in this doomed state, and he confronts the trap. Escaping it reduces him to almost nothing - he is nearly lost as a hawk on his way out. All he takes with him is the doom he owns.

and finally he knows he must go to meet the challenge despite the horror of it

he submits to his fate as an intrinsic part of himself

in fact by turning to meet it the horror lessens, the haunting is reversed, and he becomes the pursuer - there is an incredible clarity and beauty for him now

but only once he accepts he must pursue it to the edge of life and death.

and he knows that everything hinges on this confrontation. if he fails, and the gebbeth takes his body, he will rise to great power as a shell of himself, housing only fear and darkness

so he must own it fully, he must entirely accept his own fate.

...and then he is reborn from the edge of life and death, which is perhaps a twist on many green knight interpretations

LeGuin was very interested in balance and cycles and the wheel of the seasons and the intrinsic ties between dualities, so for an arthuriana reference, this makes a lot of sense to me? But i haven't noticed till now! The movie really made the Green Knight stick in my mind in a way reading it decades ago as a teen did not.

Would love love love to hear actual arthuriana folks' thoughts! Or if anyone knows of other writing on the subject!

I'm rereading The Wizard Of Earthsea, and there is so much more Green Knight in this story than i ever noticed before.

[spookygibberish]

Made a faintly insane list of of every animated movie I have good enough memories of to feel confident ranking, although some of them I would probably move around if I saw them more recently....

[blue-eli]

Ink October day 3: Sophistry

An argument that seems plausible, but is fallacious or misleading, especially one devised deliberately to be so.

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[jasmineoolongtea]

― i like the way you kiss me . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

― the ways in which they kiss you when you aren't actually together yet ₊˚⊹♡

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn! reader, choso x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuta x gn!reader, headcanons/brief drabbles, slightly suggestive for some of them if you squint a/n: just some headcanons i wanted to write after listening to i like the way you kiss me by artemas plus i needed a short writing break from my risk - megumi fic that i've been working on. hope you guys enjoy this !!!

gojo satoru kisses you like he misses you already despite barely being apart for more than a few hours. it didn't matter to him that he just saw you moments ago. that was nothing more than a trivial fact to him, just like the fact that you two still weren't actually together yet, in the grand scheme of things. why should he be waiting any second longer to feel your touch on him? he was never good at being patient anyways.

"missing me already huh?" you murmur against his lips, his hands securing you against him as he pinned you against the brick wall of the restaurant behind you two.

he scoffs at your comment. "oh shut up." his lips are on yours again in a matter of second. you weren't going to lie, you were enjoying this. to see someone so powerful like gojo satoru yet so susceptible to your presence to the point where he couldn't wait anymore to have your lips against his. with his flushed cheeks and slightly puffy lips, you want to forever immortalise this image of him in your mind. silently, you thanked whatever was out there that he decided to forgo his sunglasses tonight as their absence allowed you to truly appreciate the beauty of his eyes, even being able to notice the tiniest specks of what appeared to be gold in his pupils.

as he tilts his head to the side to better fit his features against yours, you swear you can feel his every breath with how flushed his chest is against yours. you even earn a soft groan from him when your fingers dance across his undercut, taking your time to run your hands through his snowy locks.

you're glad that his eyes are closed right now, getting a ticklish sensation as his long eyelashes kiss the expanses of your cheeks with the slight flutter of his eyes so that he isn't able to notice how the red blush that was once contained on your face has now expanded outwards to the tip of your eyes. he bites at your bottom lip gently, as if asking for permission to go further and you grant his request with a faint gasp of your own.

"noisy, aren't we?"

"oh shut up."

geto suguru kisses you like you're his already. the way he snakes his arms around your waist and presses his lips against yours only makes you sink further into his touch. if he wasn't holding you up right now, you would probably melt into the floor just from his proximity alone. you've been dancing around the issue for a few months now, fleeting touches in a dark room, longing glances across the room. it was all fun and games for both of you, seeing how long you could drag out this game of teasing and temptation until the other had enough. you thought you were doing pretty well. that is, until he decided to show up here again and well, just imagine the feeling of his lips against yours wasn't enough anymore.

you've always wondered what it would feel like to card your hands through his raven tresses and now, with your fingers tangled in up there, you can safely say it was better than you could have ever imagined. if it wasn't you who was the one messing up his hair, he would have some choice words to say about it, but as of right now, that was the least of his concerns. right now, his priority was seeing how long it would take for him to become consumed by his desire for you and it seemed like he wasn't going to last long. not with how you would let out a low whine every time his teeth grazed your lips or with your wandering hands taking this opportunity to explore the expanses of his well-sculpted back.

you feel like you've just had your breath stolen from you with how heavily you were panting against him, your faces flushed with want and kiss-swollen lips as evidence of what had recently transpired between the two of you. neither of you make the move to break apart as he leans down to ask.

"so what does this make us?"

nanami kento kisses you with so much restraint it only incites you to try and break down his defences further. his kisses barely feel like pecks, leaving you to subconsciously chase him for more every time he pulls away. he doesn't dare to try and do more, to push the boundary further. not only are you not technically together yet but also he's afraid. not of you, but rather of what would happen if he let his resolve fall and indulged in his selfish desires for what would be the first time in a long while.

he stops for a moment, his face barely hovering centimetres above from yours as his eyes flicker between your slightly agape mouth and your half-lidded eyes, watching him closely as you try to anticipate his next. he couldn't tell which one was drawing him in more at that moment. his breath hitches momentarily when he feels a soft tug at his tie, your right hand absent-mindedly toying with the edges of it as you place your other hand against his chest as if attempting to brace yourself against him. he couldn't tell but your legs felt like they were about to give out at any second with how every single cell in your body felt electrified with the amount of desire and anxiety coursing through your veins.

silence dragged on for what felt like ages, both of you unmoving in your positions until you muttered under your breath. "kento..." your voice was barely above a whisper but at that moment, it turns out that he was not as strong in his resolve as he thought he was with that being all he needed to dive right into you, fully untethered this time as his lips crashed against yours.

kamo choso kisses you like he's scared that this will be the first and last time he'll ever get to do so. there's so much fear and hesitation in his movements yet at the same time, you can feel the fervour and passion that is pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against you. his hands are hovering around your figure, scared to fully let himself hold you as if he's worried that the moment he makes contact, you're going to snap out of whatever daze you're in and run away from him. you aren't going to do that of course, if only he knew how long you were waiting for this to happen. as you feel the cold of the concrete wall against your back, the two of you part, albeit reluctantly, from each other to catch your breaths.

"..are you sure?" he asks breathlessly. his pupils are blown wide open as his eyes seemingly turn into infinite purple voids, watching your every movement unblinking.

you run your fingers across the back of his neck, toying slightly with some of the loose black strands that were clinging to his skin. he looks pretty like this, you think to yourself. he looks at you so eagerly, so soft and pliable in your hands, as he nervously awaits for your response.

"never been more sure."

fushiguro megumi kisses you like you're the air he breathes. who would have thought someone so famously reserved like megumi had it in him like this? you aren't given long to ponder on that thought as his lips are against yours once again, moving in sync with an imaginary rhythm as you frenziedly grasp at the material of his shirt in a weak attempt to try and ground you against his closeness to you. with every slide of his lips past yours, you're pretty sure that he's simultaneously taking and giving you back your breath which you previously thought would be impossible to do but are now sorely proven wrong.

you're not even a lightweight or anything when it comes to alcohol but you're pretty sure you're drunk on the feeling of him the moment his mouth was on yours. much to your surprise, the spikes that he calls his hair are actually pretty soft as you run your hands through them, a soft tug at the hair beneath your fingers drawing out a barely disguised groan from him. you giggle softly against his lips at his reaction and he silences you with another kiss, not that you were complaining as you ardently respond by tilting your head off to the side slightly to grant him better access to your face. your eyes are closed but you can imagine the half-hearted scowl on his face with how his brows furrow in the way that they always do against your forehead.

even though it was barely minutes ago, your mind is hazy as you try to remember the circumstances that led to this situation right now. it was probably a stupid argument that you guys got into, like the two of you usually do, and somehow that resulted in him wanting to prove his point more unconventionally. you give up on trying to recall the details as you can feel your face start to burn up as one of his hands start to wander down to rest against your hips.

"so," he pants, the heat of his breath is warm against your lips. "does that prove my point?"

itadori yuji kisses you eagerly, trying to savour every single moment of his lips against yours. you could feel the excitement basically pouring out from him with each movement of his lips against you, even eliciting a giggle from him that reverberates against your mouth as your noses bump against each other. it's a messy, disorganised sort of kiss with you being sure this is the third time you've accidentally grazed your teeth against his. fortunately for both of you, you're all way too engrossed and intoxicated on the sensation of the other's lips to care.

every time one of you tries to catch your breath, the other tries to chase your lips as they attempt to recapture that feeling again. as your arms encircle his neck, pulling you close to him, you're pretty sure you can feel him groan quietly against your lips with his hands reaching up to cup your face. with a deep sigh, you sink into his warm embrace, taking the moment to fully breathe him in like your life depended on it.

one of his hands falls from your face and gives a tentative squeeze at your waist to which you gasp quietly. taking this opportunity, he breaks apart from your lips and presses a flurry of kisses across your face which earns him a wide grin from you as you half-heartedly attempt to defend yourself from his sudden kiss attacks.

if you knew that a simple, experimental peck on the cheek could earn you this, maybe you should try to do this more.

okkotsu yuuta kisses you like you're a dream come true. hear him out. he never thought that he would get to experience touch like this ever again in his life, nevermind it coming from you in this manner. to him, you were what sweet dreams were made of, so ethereal, so delicate and so much better than whatever could exist in such a cruel world like this. but once again, defying all his expectations, you were here right in front of him and your lips were on his, faster than in the blink of an eye.

cradling the back of your head with his hands, he leans into the feeling of your lips against his as the two of you move in sync with each other. as if the moment couldn't get better, it was as if your lips were perfectly moulded for his or vice versa. he didn't care which way it was, all this fact did was solidify the thought in his mind that you were sent down onto earth from whatever heavenly plane people like you come from just for him to bask in the presence of.

his eyes are closed for two reasons. one, because he's scared that if he opens his eyes, this will be nothing more than a dream that he has to wake up from and two because he's pretty sure that if he was able to see you in your flushed, kiss dazed glory, he would explode on the spot.

despite being able to tell how badly he's been wanting to kiss you, he doesn't let it overpower him, instead taking the upmost care to make sure that you were still unharmed, treating you as if you were some piece of delicate china that could break at the slightest of wrong moves. while it was nice, you were feeling particularly greedy in that moment. you wanted more.

right as he breaks apart for air, you're already back to pulling him closer than humanly possible at this point by the collar of his shirt and you find that you're rewarded with a soft gasp escaping from him as your lips find each other again, this time with a renewed sense of desire and want.

[holybibly]

The unholy hour of the day, my sugar bunnies: Weirdo nerd Seonghwa has had a fondness for you for a long time, perhaps too much to be normal. So when he sees you on a crowded subway carriage, he takes the opportunity to pay his respects to you.

Warnings: Pervert nerd! Seonghwa, sub!reader, non-consensual groping, dubious consent, obsessive crush, light yandere, forced masturbation, light dub con

'Please be careful; the doors are closing'. The monotonous, mechanical voice of the underground's automated announcement system echoes through the carriage, almost completely lost in the noise of the crowd. The tube is packed, but at this time of day, that's to be expected. You hated taking the train at rush hour, but unfortunately your classes always ended at that time, and you had no choice but to use the Tube to get home, even though it felt like hell at that time, rather than a comfortable and fast ride. 

You always travelled the same way. Day after day, month after month, and in all this time nothing has changed about your trip. Firstly, the subway was always crowded, and having lived in Seoul for the last two years, you'd already gotten used to that. Secondly, there are never any seats when you get on, so you always have to stand. You even somehow managed to put up with the fact that you were always being pushed or squeezed into a corner, which you managed to squeeze into despite the carriage being almost full.

Today was no different at all. You let out a heavy sigh and made your way to the nearest available handrail in the far corner as you were pushed for what seemed like the hundredth time when the carriage doors hissed open and a new stream of passengers poured in. You grabbed hold of the cold metal handrail, trying to take up as little space as possible, while other passengers squeezed past you or kept changing their position in an attempt to get the most convenient and comfortable seat. Someone's elbow is resting on your rib, and you frown, trying to move as far away as possible, which only makes you squeeze harder into the corner. But there's not enough room, and you shriek slightly as the pressure on your ribs increases. The girl next to you bows her head, apologising as she hears this, and moves away from you, finally allowing you to breathe normally. You let out another sigh, clutching your bag tightly to your chest and gripping the handrail even tighter as the train continues to rush forward.

Just a little longer, you say to yourself, eight more stops to go and you'll finally be able to get out of here. 

Once again you hear the mechanical hissing of the doors and the automated voice warning the passengers to be more careful, and it seems to you that the carriage has become even more cramped, but it still does not prevent you from trying to adapt in some way. Dozens of people get on and off at each stop, and you're pushed again, but this time relatively gently. It doesn't matter anyway, you're used to it and ready to just brush it off, but someone's broad, cold hand rests on your bare thigh, just where the edge of your pleated skirt ends. For a second, you feel the stranger's fingers slide over your soft skin under your short skirt, and your breath catches in your throat, your heart beginning to beat faster with each passing moment. This can't be happening, can it? Maybe you're just imagining it? The stranger's cold touch on your thighs fades away as suddenly as it came, but it's enough to make you feel the cold lingering on your skin for a long time afterwards.

"You're so beautiful." A soft, velvety voice whispers from behind you, and you almost jump at the sound. 'So beautiful…' The carriage you're in is packed to the point that you can barely turn your head back to look at whoever that voice belongs to, which one makes goosebumps crawl across your skin. Your eyes widen as you see behind you none other than university oddish nerd Park Seonghwa, who is literally trapping you in a crowded subway car. He's too close to you. Close enough to be intimate. 

Not that you had a bad opinion of Seonghwa; no, he was a relatively nice and harmless guy, but there was still something about him that made people stay away from him. Maybe it was the too intense and focused look in his dark cat eyes, or maybe it was his slightly odd behaviour that was hard to explain; either way, Park Seonghwa was not popular, even though he was pretty, and not just pretty, but really handsome, as if sculpted by the hand of a great master. Another thing that put people off him was that he was a real nerd and had an obsession with Lego and Animal Crossing. You didn't see much of him in your classes, even though you were in the same study group as him; from what you heard, he was in an advanced class and was more likely to jerk off to textbooks than girls. In general, you didn't know much about him other than the gossip you heard from your friends. 

''S-Seonghwa, let me go, please…'' Your voice trembles slightly as you turn to him. There is a strange expression frozen on his handsome face, one that you are unable to decipher. He looks drunk—his big eyes are blurry and unfocused, his mouth is open from heavy breathing, his cheeks are flushed, and there is a bead of sweat on his forehead. There is obviously something wrong with him, but Seonghwa is a good guy, isn't he? He wouldn't do anything to hurt you, or at least you wanted to believe that. 

You don't hear him answer as the train makes a sharp turn and Seonghwa pushes you against the wall of the carriage, his body pressed tightly against yours. You freeze, like a mouse caught in the claws of a cat, as you feel his cold hands squeeze your soft, plump thighs, right under your buttocks. You tug at the hem of your skirt in an attempt to push Seonghwa's hands away from you, but he doesn't let you go; instead, his fingers dig harder into your flesh even more, and you're sure you'll be bruised afterwards. You feel the fast, erratic beating of his heart against your back as he leans into you, as if he's trying to melt into you, to become one with your body.

"I'm sorry…' He whispers to you again, his hot breath brushing your ear and his sensual, full lips touching your soft, thin skin with each letter. You've always admired his lips—so full and kissable—and you've even wondered what they would feel like when he kissed you, but right now you wish you could erase that touch from your skin forever. Something hard and intimidatingly large presses against your lower back as he grips your hips tighter, literally piling on top of you. The sickly sweet smell of strawberries and cream invades all of your senses, and you find yourself trapped between the dirty wall of the subway car and the hard, hot body of Seonghwa. You've never noticed how tall he is compared to you—you're invisible behind him; nobody can see what he's doing to you. "I'm so sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it… You're too beautiful… too beautiful for me to control myself. I'm so sorry…' He lowers his head onto your shoulder, his long black hair tickling the skin on your neck as you stare unblinkingly into the dirty wall, terror running through you to the bone, rendering you completely immobile as Seonghwa pushes his hips into you, fucking your arse on the crowded train like a dog in heat.

Your lips begin to tremble, hot tears gathering in your eyes, threatening to spill out and run down your cheeks, smearing your make-up, as Seonghwa's one hand slides up the curve of your hip and higher up your waist, your ribs, over the thin lace of your bra to cradle your right tit. 

'Oh fuck...' Seonghwa hisses as he squeezes the soft flesh of your breast in the palm of his hand. His fingers pull the cup of your bra down so that your tit is completely exposed. "Exactly as I thought... your tits are so big and soft. I want to fuck them so badly. I want to come on your tits; cover them with my sperm. I want to suck on your fucking tits while you are riding on me, angel." He continues to rub his cock against your plump buttocks, whimpering into your skin. 

'N-no, please don't, Seonghwa. Please stop it...' You sob, hoping that your pathetic pleas will bring him to his senses. But it seems to have the exact opposite effect, making him even more aroused. You tremble at his touch as Seonghwa continues fucking you, his rough hand caressing your naked breasts, his hard cock sliding between your buttocks through his jeans and skirt. 

"Please move away from the doors." The train stops, the mechanical hiss of the doors hissing through the crowd. You pray that Hwa will let you go, but he doesn't. For a moment, he stops pushing into you and keeps you pressed up against the wall. His breath is unpleasantly warm against your ear, making you shiver.

'Seonghwa...' You try once more. "Seonghwa, please let me go. I won't tell anyone... I promise. Please leave me alone..." The tears begin to flow freely down your face as you continue to beg him to let you go. But Seonghwa is completely unresponsive; instead, he starts to leave wet, smeared kisses on your neck. His lips are soft, too soft, like down pillows, unpleasantly slippery and wet from copious amounts of saliva mixed with lip balm as cloying strawberry as he is. From the outside, you probably look like a couple deeply in love. Seonghwa is protective, wrapped around you like a snake, and to everyone else, he looks like a caring guy. If only they knew...

The thought of screaming crosses your mind, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared when the train starts moving again and Hwa slips his other hand under your shirt and wraps it around your left breast. His hand greedily squeezes the soft flesh over the thin lace of your bra before he pulls it down as well, exposing your tits to the full extent. You hate yourself for the fact that his touch is causing your nipples to begin to tense and your pussy to clench around nothing. You've always been hypersensitive, and that's generally nothing unusual, but this situation...

You shouldn't react like this; you don't want Seonghwa to touch you; you don't want to feel his hands on your body, but then why are you biting your lip and trying your best to suppress the obscene sounds that are coming out of your mouth right now? 

"That's it, Angel. I'll make you feel good. I'll be worshipping you, pretty girl, the way I've always wanted to be. And you can't blame me for that; you've got everything to blame yourself for. You're too beautiful, too beautiful for me to let you go..." Seonghwa's hands, gently rocking your breasts as if he could feel the weight of them, his fingers running over your aureoles, stimulating you while avoiding your swollen nipples.

You sob loudly as you feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. You don't want to give in to the pleasure that is growing deep inside you, especially not in the presence of so many people and even less so in Seonghwa's hands, but there is nothing you can do about it. He gives you a sharp pinch on your nipples as the mechanical voice announces the name of the next stop, and it covers up the moan that escapes from your lips. 

"You feel so good, angel." He whispers to you in a velvety voice.  "Your little nipples are so hard and tender. I want to take them into my mouth and suck them until you come. I'm sure I can make you come just from that." Seonghwa's voice is full of dark promise, and it makes more and more moisture pour out of your hole. Shame washes over you like a wave, and you cover your eyes, trying to come to terms with the unwanted pleasure that is growing inside of you. You clench your hands tighter around your bag as Hwa continues to play with your breasts. Squeezing and massages them, rubbing and pinching your nipples, at the same time leaving hot, painful hickeys on your neck. "You were made for me, my angel. I always knew it. I knew it the moment I saw you." One of his hands releases your breasts and slides down your body. Your eyes go wide in horror as you realise where Seonghwa's hand is going, but it's too late because... He slides his hand easily between your thighs, wrapping your pussy, over the lace of the thong, whose fabric is soaked with your slime. 

"Look at you; you're all wet for me."

'I-I'm not, please, just stop...' For the first time since Seonghwa cornered you, you try to resist him. Your hand trembles as you try to pull his hand off your cunt, but Hwa just pushes it away. Then you start to wriggle in his grip, trying to push him away from you, but it doesn't help. Seonghwa is bigger and stronger than you, and all your movements instead make you rub your wet pussy harder against his palm between your thighs.

"Don't be embarrassed about it, angel. You just have to admit that you want it just as much as I do."

The train stops again, and Seonghwa takes the opportunity to pull the wet lace of your thong aside, exposing your smooth, plump pussy to his touch. You can't hold back a moan as his fingers outline a figure of eight around your clit. 

"Please... Seonghwa... you don't have to do this." You sob, lowering your head to somehow hide the way your cheeks are flushed from everything he's doing to you. 

'But how can I, angel? You're so ready for me...' He pulls his hand away from your pussy for a second and brings them up to your face. You watch in horror as he spreads his fingers, pulling strands of your arousal between them before they break apart, coating his long appendages with your stickiness. "You see that? Your slutty pussy is all wet and sticky; how can I ignore it?" You barely manage to hold back a loud moan as Seonghwa slides his hand down and, without any preamble, pushes two fingers into your wet cunt. The stretching stings, but with it comes pleasure. It's clouds your mind and overshadows any sense of decency or shame. Seonghwa begins to fuck you, twisting his fingers inside you and stroking your slippery, trembling walls with slightly calloused fingertips. Over the din of the other passengers' voices, you can almost hear the squelching of your unacceptably wet pussy.

"You are so tight, my angel. I should stretch your cunt before you take my cock. I'll do my best; we don't want your sweet pussy to be in pain, do we?" With these words, Seonghwa inserts another finger into you.

Everything in you shrinks in shame as the pleasure becomes too much to ignore—your legs spread so Hwa can fuck you harder and deeper, his finger pads pressed against your sweet spot, and your eyes roll back at the sharp pleasure coursing through your body.

It's disgusting, no, it's more than disgusting, and deep inside you despise yourself for giving yourself up to him so easily, for not putting up any resistance at all to Seonghwa, for letting him fuck you so expertly with his long fingers. 

[violetbeauregut]

In Defense of Feedism

I was absolutely struck when I read  @fatliberation‘s beautiful, vulnerable post the other day. They always have brilliant ideas and they show unfailing grace and kindness to everyone, despite a ton of rude, ill-informed backlash (I would 100% recommend following them). 

I can’t stop thinking about the reactions to that post and how incredibly strange it is to have to tiptoe around feedism (to use an umbrella term) in a movement that is supposed to be centered around ending the oppression of fat people. 

I can understand why fat people who are not feedists would be weary or even repulsed by this kink. From the outside it may seem degrading and manipulative that the language and insults used against fat people are replicated in the bedroom. It is also harmful to be fetishized when you do not want to be fetishized, both in real life and online. 

But these are the only points I’ve heard against feedism that I consider to be a legitimate argument in the discourse of fat liberation, as these are the only claims against feedism I’ve come across that are not based in fatphobia. If you are in favor of fat liberation, then you must see fatness as morally neutral. Therefore, the choice to gain weight is not inherently “good” or “bad,” it is instead a matter of autonomy– a right that should be granted to everyone, regardless of size. 

The major issue with feedism is the same issue that permeates all kink and, by extension, all sexuality: consent. There are feedists, particularly feeders, who fetishize all fat people, regardless of their wishes; feedists who try to force fat people to participate in kink with or without their knowledge or permission. This is abhorrent behavior; there are no excuses for it. But the problem here is a violation of consent and not the kink itself. The unethical practice of kink does not make the kink unethical. And while feedees are often disregarded in discussions of feedism and fat liberation (which I have already talked about in depth here), there are most assuredly fat feedees, like myself, who are fully consenting to fat fetish play. 

While I can only speak for myself, I know that I am not the only person who developed this kink because of weight-related trauma. When you grow up fat, when you are forced to go to Weight Watchers at seven years old, your brain comes to associate fat as taboo and taboo as sexy–but it goes beyond an attraction to something risky or frowned upon. 

I live my life as a fat woman; I am fat at the doctor’s office and fat in tiny airplane seats and I am especially fat as a feedee. No matter if I’m engaging with my kink or not, I am fat and I don’t get to stop being fat outside of my bedroom. Out of all of the scenarios where I am existing in my fat body, engaging in kink play is the only one where I am experiencing pleasure because of my body, not despite it. It’s arousing to be praised for the thing that once made you hate yourself. It’s arousing to engage with something you fear or that has harmed you in a safe, controlled context where you have all the power to make it stop. 

What anti-feedist fat liberationists need to understand is that feedism is, at its core, a resistance to fatphobia. When you see things that are typically fatphobic in feedist play– terms like “pig,” “cow,” “tubby,” etc. and comments about being “out of shape” or “ruined” by fat– it is not a replication of weight stigma, but a subversion of it. Feedism takes the harmful stereotypes of fatness and robs them of their power by putting them in a new context; a context where fatness is so desirable that feedists want more of it. By using the language and misconceptions of fatness to give and receive pleasure instead of to oppress, feedism not only creates a safe space to heal from fatphobic trauma, but it empowers fatness– it empowers fat people, which is supposed to be the goal of fat liberation.

[julietsbody]

lace garters

words : 3,903

tags : 18+!!! mdni! escorts , sex work , reader ! sex worker , vaginal sex , finger fucking , finger sucking , porn with feelings , brothels , oral sex , save a horse ride a whattt

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!! ( divider by siren4u & gif by drewstarkrs )

billy was a virgin, surprisingly, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and the quick fucks from the escorts never enticed him much. many offered, when he would stop quick at towns for a simple beer or to take care of things— he would typically get stopped by the escorts dressed in their gorgeous silks, tight corsets, and sleeves that fall off their shoulders so easily it has your fingers itching with desire to fix it. it would make even the most sane man turn mad, and somehow billy never allowed himself to fall for it. 

not until now, an escort stops him before he walks in a bar, “how old are you, dear?” 

“19, ‘bout to turn 20,” his voice is smooth and sweet, southern drawl sweeping out with ease. 

the girl hums out, tipping out of the way to allow his eyes to another girl standing far behind her, you, “you’re too young for me, dear, you should talk to her. she can show you a good time.”

typically billy would say no, offer a few coins for their efforts and simply walk into the bar like nobody had offered. but something was different when his eyes fell on you, you weren’t like the other escorts, quick to talk to the men and get some money for the events that take within the confines of the motel walls. you were rather looking off in the distance, your position more reserved rather than comfortable. it had him wanting to know more. 

to be fair, billy was bored these days, all he did was travel and go from town to town, never leaving a mark on those behind. other than his wanted posters, which by the way, had an awful drawing on it. how the hell was he ever supposed to get a girlfriend with drawings like that made about him? each step is slow, calculated, as he moves over to you. he notices that mid way, your attention seems forced away from him. 

are you afraid of him? he tips his head in your peripheral, easily looming over you, “darling.” 

your eyes snap to him almost immediately, widening as if you didn’t think it would truly be him, yet you mumble out a, “honey.” 

“lady over there told me to talk to you,” his head tips up, blue eyes piercing into you, even through the deepest of the night. 

“i don’t want trouble,” you finally turn to him, the smell of musk and gunsmoke filling your nose as he bites through the toothpick in his mouth, “i hear you’re wanted.” 

“wanted, but not trouble,” he corrects, smirk tugging at his right lip, “you don’t gotta tell anyone.” 

“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” your voice is so sweet, it nearly has him doubling over. you’re teasing him, clearly, but billy has never backed down to a challenge once in his life, he can bet on that. 

his eyebrow twitches upright slightly, “how much for thirty minutes, beautiful?” 

“you can satisfy me in thirty minutes?” you tease, smile widening at your own joke. 

his head cocks to the side, and he can’t help the way he licks his lips, cockiness coursing through his veins, “i probably could in ten.” 

you can’t help the way your flesh feels like rubber over molten, cheeks flaring to a new maroon that you hadn’t expected. your eyes dare to match his, the lust unsheathed in the teal of his eyes, “thirty will be just a few coins.” 

his hand moves to your jaw, tipping your head up further to look at him with ease, now you have no choice of looking away, “you don’t think i can in ten?” 

“i doubt it,” your skin is hot underneath his touch, despite your bold demeanor. 

“we’ll see.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the motel carried the same smell as it always did, the mix of mustiness, smoke from cigars, and whiskey. billy’s gut churned as you led him to the room that you always rented, surely, he was cocky at first— then he began to worry if he would even be good enough. he was a virgin, after all, and he’s sure you’d been with mostly experienced men. he doesn’t say anything once the door opens, seemingly every worry dissipates as you look back at him with a different look, your lashes flutter over your eyes with ease, the look is more seductive, siren like. 

if you were a siren, consider him the sailors in those tales, lost in the tides and addicted to the song that oozed out your vocals.

he allows you to guide him to the bed, sitting him down on the thin, firm mattress with your hands lingering on his shoulders, “what would you like me to do?” 

“i’d like for you,” he trails off, eyes tracing down your body, “to get on your knees.”

your hands leave his shoulders as you ever so slowly kneel down, every movement is well thought out, calculated, your body flowing in the most seductive ways. despite your lowered body, your eyes still remained up at him, the sudden doe look in your eyes making his legs spread ever so slightly. his hand is gentle when it touches your cheek again, pinky lining underneath your jawline as his thumb threatens against your lips. 

it’s dangerous, the way you look at him, like your gun is being drawn to him with your finger teasing the trigger. 

“and?” you add, his thumb teasing your now open lips. he tried not to flinch when your mouth encased his thumb, the warmth wetness of your mouth enveloping the skin. he finds himself unable to speak, unable to wonder whatever he wants— he wants to be stuck in this moment forever, it was greater than any other treasure he had come across. you were so good at your job, it made him want to know the lengths of your skills. 

“suck me off,” he finally speaks, gentle to remove his thumb from your mouth. 

it was a statement that you were used to, the firm tone, the expectation to get to it immediately— yet you are somehow surprised when it comes from him, it’s less firm, not like a demand but rather an offer, and there wasn’t a feeling of being rushed. for a man who seemingly had no time for women, he surely had a way to talk to them, to be gentler with them, unlike the other men. it was always cowboys who had the better ways of treating women, respectful with every word, or touch. his eyes are heavy on you, the curtains of your eyelashes blinking up to him, your lips tinted a sweet rouge due to a patted on lipstick, and he finds himself pushing his thumb across your lips, smudging the burgundy ever so slightly. 

your hands smooth over the fabric of his pants, fingertips teasing the leather of his belt which accompanied his gun holster as you palmed him through his slacks. the touch of the leather was rich, sturdy and every loop was clean cut, rather than loose and falling apart like many belts you had undone before. you hear him groan as your hand gently pushes against his clothed cock, his back stiffening ever so slightly as a chill runs up it. 

he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as you undo his belt, your fingertips threateningly close to his gun holster as you pull the leather from the metal to loosen it. a chuckle vibrates from his chest, voice lower than usual, “careful, princess.” 

he lifts his hips as you tug down his pants, boxers following soon after to slip down to his ankles with ease. a hiss escapes him as soon as his hard dick is released to the cold air, with the opposing blow of your warm air on his tip. he was already so hard, as if he had been aching for a day like this. his hand moves to wrap around his base, hips scooting closer ever so slightly. 

“open,” his voice is husky, yet velvety, like the thorn of a rose to the petals. 

you’re quick to allow your jaw to fall slack, tongue smoothing out past the burgundy that coats your lips, as if you expected his next command. he taps his tip against your tongue, biting back the groan that thunders inside his every limb at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle. he allows you to take the lead, your tongue following the underside of his dick, memorizing each vein. when you reach his tip, you press a few sloppy kisses to it that has his breathing roughen, allowing you to open your mouth once more and take his length inside. 

he sucks in a deep breath, a hoarse groan escaping past his lips when he exhales, allowing his teeth clench on the thin wooden toothpick that still remained in his mouth. his head tips back when you hollow your cheeks only mere seconds into sucking him off, his hat slipping off his head and falling onto the plush of the bedsheets. 

his breath becomes ragged with the more you bob your head, allowing the tip to reach the back of your mouth, to the throat. his free hand moves to pass through your hairline, gripping at the beginning of your hair, even through your updo, loosening the tightening of the strands. the muscle in his arms flex underneath his short-sleeved button up, veins popping out every time you reach the base. 

“good girl,” he breathes out, the whimper that vibrates around his cock making his release come quicker than expected, hand bunching up your hair as he has to move you back, off his dick to stop his orgasm. he heaves, noticing the way strips of saliva connect your mouth to his dick. he moves his hand from your hair down to your lips, watching the way your mouth instinctively opens then closes around his fingers, sucking them in with pure ease. 

he allows you to wet them with your saliva until he pulls them out and mumbles a soft, “come.” 

he helps you up onto his lap, the metal of his gun is a cooling sensation on his heated skin as he moves back, reaching under to toss his gun elsewhere. he had his guard down now, despite the large bounties on his head, he was too focused on you, and giving you the pleasure that you deserved. as you straddle him, his fingers dared to touch the bottom of your dress, threatening to raise, “may i?” 

your eyes are tantalizing when they meet his, like the threatens of the deepest lust lie within them, and billy is willing to dive in, “you may.” 

his hair is messy now, like he never took off that damn hat, and when he did— he didn’t bother to fix the hair underneath.

every movement is careful, meant to be more meaningful than a quick fuck, he raises your skirt until his eyes catch on to a white lace garter that’s propped around your upper thigh. so sweet, the purposeful placement of it all, it’s like a prize for whoever gets to raise your skirt. as you sit on his lap, your arms rest on his shoulders, a hand threatening the skin on the back of his neck as his hands move back around your waist, through the silk of the corset to the strings that hold it together on the back. his eyes are stuck onto you as his fingers begin to tug at the tie of the strings, they were in a harsh knot, but billy always knew his way around things. 

kissing clients was typically a line many of the women wouldn’t dare to cross, sometimes not even you, but the way his eyes kept tipping down to your lips had you threateningly close to the now faded line. as the laces of your corset loosen, your head tips down to where your lips barely brush him, you can smell the mint already before even getting a chance. your lips move to close around the toothpick that he kept in his mouth, moving to spit it out and he was quick to chase your lips. as soon as you had spit out the toothpick, his lips finally pressed against yours, allowing your freshly manicured hands to curl through his brunette hair. 

the fresh smell of your rose and jasmine was quick to his nose as he inhaled you up close, tongue teasing against your lower lip ever so carefully. there was a certain thirst that billy found himself feeling as he moves to spread your mouth open with his own, allowing your tongues to both clash, the mix of spit and remnants of mint and a cigarette becoming prominent to the taste. he wanted to drink every word from your lips, to suck in your siren song like his life depended on it. 

when your hips bucked up against him, needy to feel a form of friction, it had encouraged him to finally free you from the confines of your corset. your lips part when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down to your jaw, throughout until he meets your neck, the softness of his kisses making it feel as though doves were flying through the confines of your body. when his lips begin to move to suck on the delicate skin, you hiss, “dear, dear, you can’t leave marks.” 

“your rules or brothel rules?” he murmurs against your skin, moving to toss away your corset onto the floor. 

“brothel rules,” you hush out, and you feel his lips curl onto your neck. 

“then ‘m gonna leave as many marks as i want,” he falls back into your skin, lips taking in the skin between his teeth as he moved to mark you as his own. the desire to have a prostitute as your own was a dangerous game, but billy had been a part of many dangerous games before, and now he was pulling all his money in with the unluckiest of cards— yet he still finds himself with the pride of feeling he will win. his lips pause at one of the pulse points on your neck, noticing how your heat beat quickens, and flutters, was this typical? 

he wasn’t sure, but he finds himself praying it’s a good thing. he chuckles as your hands are desperate to unbutton his shirt, pushing each wooden button through the loops with ease, you had done this a million times before, this is the only time your heart is thumping in your chest when you do, though. he moves his hand down to take a hold of one of your wrists, “easy, girl, easy.” 

“you said ten minutes,” you remind him, smile dripping on your lips. 

“mm, i want longer than that,” he helps you unbutton the last few before taking off his shirt, noticing how your eyes trail down his figure. 

“just sayin’ that because you can’t make me cum,” you break into a soft laugh against him, and he can’t help the way a small smile curves his lips as he takes off the dress that you were wearing. your body is alike to the statues you could only dream of seeing in those beautiful stories about gods and women who ruled. women who were worshipped, even as billy knew you for mere minutes, he found himself wanting to kneel at your altar, to worship the ground you walk on. to make you cum would mean more than he imagined at first, he wanted to be that man, to pleasure you in ways others haven’t. 

his fingers slip underneath the hem of your panties, immediately exposed to the wetness underneath as it coats his fingers, “can’t make you cum yet you’re so wet for me, hm?” 

you bite your lip, allowing your hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelopes your every thought almost immediately. though billy wasn’t quite sure about what exactly to do, he had heard the other cowboys speak of this, and he hoped it delivered as much pleasure as they said when he dips a finger inside of you. you’re loose around him, wet, yet sucking him in so easily. he’s quick to add another, finding his rhythm almost immediately and getting cocky with it. he dares to let his thumb tease the edges of your clit, as if he didn’t know it was there and he was merely looking for somewhere to place it. 

he notices the way your nails dig in to his scalp, biting your tongue so hard that crimson may bleed from it with ease. 

billy had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, and yet none have reacted the ways in which you do. they were quick to show how they react, every emotion not blanketed behind a curtain of embarrassment but now, despite it being your job to over exaggerate the pleasure, you found yourself shy to make noise. he moves to allow another finger to push inside of you, the pink velvet of your insides encasing his fingers with ease. he hears you gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. his thumb moves to your clit again, and that’s when your grip becomes lethal, biting your lip no longer becoming a guard for your moans. 

“please,” you mumble out, whimpering. 

“please what, princess?” you’re putty in his hands, and he’s kneading you with ease. 

“i.. i need you,” you moan out, to be saying this to a wanted man, one who has killed, and committed theft, as well as escaped from prison— it was something you swore to never do. yet you were having sex with him and his touch felt so gentle it was as if it never happened, how could a man so dangerous be so kind? you feel a vein pulse from his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes following yours as he moves his hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to move in between his lips and the taste of you to savor his tastebuds.

your pupils dilate at the sight of him tasting you, skin warming before you can even realize that you’re moving to take his fingers out, replacing them with your tongue as your mouth presses against his again. his hand falls on your waist, other hand guiding his dick to your cunt as he deepens the kiss to feel you moan against his mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, each movement a hunger of it’s own but yours falls submissive as soon as his dick slides into you with ease. your velvet is tighter around him than he expected, and he feels the vibrations of your whines against his tongue, mumbling a small, “you’re so big—“ against his lips. 

once you reach his base, you pull away from his lips, a mere string of saliva connecting you both like a lifeline. 

now you have the lead to take, your lips connecting with his neck to leave marks on him, you wonder how the other cowboys will react as your hips start swaying on his dick, riding him with ease. will they laugh at him for all the prominent hickeys? there’s no way he could hide it, you’ve heard billy had girlfriends all around in many different towns and parts of the state, what if he went back to them and they saw all the marks? it would trace back to you, you’re sure of it, but something about that fills you with a sense of pride rather than fear. you’ve always adored the outlaws, even though you were raised to be a good christian woman, a good girl. the outlaws were always the sweet talkers, as you were told from the other girls at the brothel. you were told stories about how well they treated the women, their touch being better than most the regulars, their words so dirty you’d only dream of being told it until you had finally heard it. 

now you found yourself in love with the idea of trouble, as you wrap yourself in the silks of his touch and the pleasure he gave you. his head tilts back to allow you more access to the free canvas of his neck, his hand raises, then immediately smacks onto the flesh of your ass. the slap tore a cry from your throat, into the skin that coats his neck, and a plain redness forms around the mark of his hand, branding you. 

somehow, this was more intimate than your previous affairs, even despite the roughness of the sex. it felt like a wild play of ballet, an opera you would only dream of seeing, the gracefulness of each movement and the sweetness that drips like honey off each sound, even the sounds of skin slapping as you ride him. you taste the bitterness of his cologne as you reach the sides of his neck, sucking the pale skin with a need to create marks that last. he’s fascinated by your every movement, if this truly was a ballet, he would find himself in the crowd, watching the dancer move with such purity even during such a lewd act. 

you felt yourself curl as your orgasm builds again, and it seems he is too in the way his hips begin to rock. every movement feels like being coated in molasses, trying to swim through it, the orgasms scorching through your inner thighs to your core until it wracks your body, hitting you harder than it had any other time. you don’t know what it was about him, but you were quick to flutter around him, and that had him pulling out, stroking himself for mere seconds until white stripes fall in messy streaks across your skin. 

he pulls you closer when your lips move so your head tilts onto his shoulder, both of your guys’ chests heaving as if you had just been working out, as if you were running towards danger and felt the warmth of it’s embrace reel you in. it was billy’s arms, his eyes closing for a mere second before they open again, “thought i couldn’t make you cum.” 

you hate the way you smile so easily at anything he says, the way you melt into his touch, the way even though you were merely a one night stand it felt like you wanted this to be an eternity, you wanted him to be a regular. 

“mm, i faked it,” you say with a smile, so clearly a lie. 

you move so he slips out of you, your cunt clamping around nothing as it missed the feeling of him inside of you. soon, you reassure yourself as you stand, convinced he will be returning. poor, poor girl, you were just another victim of the sweet talkers with pretty faces. it worsens as your legs become jelly, and he’s quick to stand, hands fastening to your waist and holding it to keep you balanced. his chuckle turns to a laugh, a deep, hearty laugh, “you sure, doll?” 

you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, somehow your lipstick remained and it kept the mark staining his cheek as you left your kiss there. then you moved, taking your clothes and putting them on, “goodnight, billy.” 

[frogchiro]

Okay so I read that gladiators could sometimes be hired to be body guards for nobel ladies and all I can think of is Gladiator! Price and a sweet little Nobel! Reader

Like imagine big, burly, hairy price following reader everwhere?? :(( even watching over her in her bedroom and the bath to "make sure she is completely safe". But really he just wants to see readers pretty soft skin in her nightgowns and smell her sweet scent after her baths.

Gladiator!Price who got hired by your father, a noble, who is incredibly protective over his youngest, only daughter. You're a young lady, just turned 20 amd he knows that the world is a dangerous place especially for someone like you so every extra step is justified in his mind.

He has seem the gladiator before in the coliseum, a magnificent warrior despite his age but this is something that only fueled his decision to hire him, a young buck would surely be a perverted degenerate who will try and rob his darling daughter's innocence and might even hurt you, so someone like John is perfect. If he only knew :((

You were kinda scared of John at first when your father introduced him as your new guard. He was a huge man, larger even than your father and much broader, his bulky body standing with his arms crossed over his strong chest, but what really got to you were his eyes. Those intense gray eyes which seemed to be fixated on you made a shiver run down your spine and made appear a shameful tightness in your belly.

You were really timid at first around the gladiator; he was mostly silent, occasional gruffy words left him but they were few and far in between. Pity. His voice was deep and low, a perfect amount of husk and growl in it to make your breath quicken but you pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came. You should be ashamed! What would father think, what would John himself think about the fact that you have such lusty thoughts about him! All he probably sees is a naive, young noble girl with nothing better to do than go to the market to shop for luxurious fabrics and jewelery with your father's money and sew pretty patterns at home.

Well...that picture of a noble and stoic guardian fell pretty quickly the moment you stepped inside your home's private bath, a beautiful place you always liked to sit and think...but what was Price still doing here? His answer was curt: to protect you at all times. Didn't you know that while bathing you're more vulnerable than ever besides sleeping? He's your guard appointed by your father and it's his sworn duty to protect you.

Sounds reasonable and noble right? Well the feeling of his cock stirring against his armored tunic wasn't all that noble for all the shit John't is spewing. But at the end of the day John is just a man, a man with needs and urges and he can't help the fact that he got assigned to protect the prettiest little nymph he ever saw :((

Good gods what wouldn't he give to touch that beautiful, glowing skin of yours, squeeze your soft tits and suckle on your nipples, grab at your broad hips and- John's trail of thoughts was interrupted by your whining at him that it's embarrassing to undress before him, you're an unmarried lady, it's indecent! But John just scoffs and tells you in that hard, gruff tone to either get naked and hop into the milky, opaque water or go without a bath so he left you with little choice, he's so cruel :((

But on the other hand you couldn't help but decide to tease the older male a little bit, making s bit of a show of you undressing, letting the luxurious fabric of your dress slip deliciously down your body and entering the water step by step, all nice amd shy and demure and you could feel your nipples harden and your cunny get wet when you heard a low growl emanate from the gruff gladiator♡

[youaresimplylovely]

Kisses.

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x Wife!Reader

Summary: In which Carlos loves kissing his wife ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

Words: 716

Proofread!!

A/N: another one shot for my lovelies, will make a post about my list of one shots (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

To say that Carlos loves kissing his wife, you, was a complete understatement. It was more than "love" it was an addiction, maybe obsession too. You can't really blame the guy and he says that himself. Who is he to blame? When his wife is such a goddess and is so beautiful, he can't help but kiss her all the time.

￣￣

Snoring softly, your breathing going up and down as you peacefully hurdle in your sleep. You smile through your sleep, it was so relaxing and comfortable. Suddenly, a soft touch of someone's lips touched your face. Groggily waking up, eyes fluttering open to see your husband and his lips peppering kisses all over you. From your face and down to your neck.

A soft chuckles comes out of your mouth, hands wrapping around the back of your husband's neck as he hovered on top of you. Carlos smiles softly with sleepy eyes, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"Ay you're still sleepy" Laughing softly as you caress his hair while he plants more kisses on your neck.

"Yeah but I wanted to kiss my wife" He mumbles, his lips shifting from your neck to your face causing you to giggle.

"it's 7AM in the morning baby" You whine playfully, you didn't have the fact that he was kissing you. You were just teasing him.

"morning kisses" he flashes a charming smiles, flipping over to lay back down next to you eventually flipping you over too so you're on top of him as he continues kissing his beautiful wife.

￣￣

Carlos and Charles had a photoshoot for a brand, despite you telling your husband that you didn't need to accompany him since it was just nearby but he practically begged you to come. You had no choice but to come, you knew he wanted you to come just for the kisses.

You sat on the couch of the dressing room Carlos was assigned. While Carlos was sat in the seat of the vanity as the makeup artist puts on light makeup on him.

"babyy" Carlos whines, frantically tapping his fingers on the vanity table.

"I need a kiss, I need you" He turns to his side to look at you with a pout as the makeup artist continues to powder his face with a little struggle.

"After your touch up baby, I promise after the makeup artist finished putting makeup on you" You smile at him softly, chuckling at his cute behaviour.

"But baby, I want a kiss" He whines even more, crossing his arms still pouting.

"I'll be right back, I'll just get some hair product." The makeup artist informs you and Carlos as she leaves the dressing room.

You could see the happiness in Carlos' eyes as the makeup artist left. He was smiling like a little kid, almost squealing as he looks at you. "Kiss baby kiss"

A laugh comes out of your face, you approach him. Standing in front of him with a smile on your face, cupping his cheeks as you kiss his lips.

You let out a yelp, feeling Carlos' hand on your waist sitting you on his lap. You guys were practically making out, hands wrapping around on his neck while his hands tightly held on your waist.

￣￣

Kisses were everywhere, every minute, every second, every hour.

￣￣

You brush your teeth in the bathroom, slightly flinching as the bathroom door opened to see Carlos smiling at you.

"you scared me" you mumble, chuckling as you continue brushing your teeth.

"kiss" he flutters his eyelashes while smiling at you cutely.

You couldn't even say something till he kissed you. Eyes widened, trying to keep the toothpaste and the saliva in your mouth since you were brushing your teeth. Moments later, Carlos pulled away with a bright smile eventually chuckling as he watches your reaction.

You give him a playfully disgusted look, spitting the toothpaste out as you wash your mouth. Wiping your mouth with a towel, your eyes shifted to Carlos. You laugh softly, giving a kiss on the cheek.

￣￣

You really love your husband and his kisses, even if sometimes it's in weird situations. The feeling that someone wants to be that close and loving with you is so sweet. You'd gladly kiss him everyday and every moment he'd like.

[tomsparkyr]

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: y/n is on her world tour and sings a surprise song that might be dedicated to someone …

oscar piastri x fem!reader

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You paced around backstage, twirling your hair with your fingers and going over every step and lyric in your head. Despite it being your 48th show on your world tour, this one felt more intense, more pressuring, purely because you knew he was in the crowd.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a light tap on your shoulder, causing you to snap your head around to the perpetrator.

Oscar Piastri’s wide smile adorned his face and caused a familiar feeling of butterflies to swarm your stomach; reaching your arms up and wrapping them around Ocsar’s shoulders.

He quickly caught into your embrace and cradled the back of your head, kissing your temple. “You’ll do great, I know you will.” He whispered, his free hand running down the embroidered bodysuit that hugged your figure. His brow raised at the beautiful sight of you and couldn’t wait to take the outfit back home.

You heard the crew call your name so you backed away from your boyfriend, “I’ll see you after, I love you.” He bumped his nose with yours, “I love you too.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips and sighed into you, your hands reaching into his hair. You pulled back, “Ok, Osc I really have to go.” He pulled you back in by your waist.

“They can wait.” He mumbled, “They’ve paid and sat in this boiling weather to see me, you see me every day, Osc!” You laughed as he reluctantly let go, “I’ll bring the orange bodysuit home if you let me go now.” He quickly dropped his hands off your waist and skipped back to his VIP tent, hearing your laughter as he disappeared further from you.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Rumour spread pretty quickly that a Formula 1 Driver was spotted in the VIP tent of your concert. But fans didn’t think much of it, rather traded friendship bracelets with him and took blurry, grainy photos of him for fan pages.

However, fan’s perception changed as you sat down in front of your piano for the surprise songs.

“Hello Sydney!” You laughed into the microphone, hearing the Aussie crowd erupt in cheers and hollers at the song of their hometown. “I hope you’re all enjoying the show!” The reaction from the crowd was enough to tell you that they seemed to be more than happy with it.

You cleared your throat, taking a subtle glance to the VIP tent as you saw a bright orange cap catch your attention. You smiled at his direction, knowing his would return it despite you not being able to see his face.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Sydney…” You couldn’t help your broad smile lighten up your face at the screams from fans at the barricade.

“The song I’m going to play you is one I haven’t done before… it’s one of my favourites and it means the a lot to me and …others.”

The crowd got impossibly louder, “Here we go…” You adjusted the microphone and looked down at the piano, smiling to yourself and you played the first notes.

None of the fans had clocked onto which song you were playing yet, which made it much more enjoyable for you; taking a deep breath as you sang the first lyric.

“My love was a cruel as the cities I lived in”

Fans began screaming and so many flashes of people filming appeared, people crying and jumping up and down at the song choice.

“I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you”

Your red cheeks and genuine smile was pure and making the fans go wild.

Oscar stood in the VIP tent with a smile and blushing cheeks, swaying to your voice knowing he wrote this song with you. He mouthed the lyrics in time with you and looked at you with heart eyes; a pure look of raw, scream-it-from-the-rooftops love.

“I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight”

You peered over to the VIP tent and saw his orange cap moving along to the beat, the same colour matching the dress that covered your shoulders as of now.

It took the fans a moment for them to realise what was going on, connecting the dots; the love song, the interview, the colour of your dress, the colour Oscar Piastri sports, why Oscar was there, the blush on both of your cheeks.

Holy shit. Y/N Y/L/N and Oscar Piastri were in love.

“I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden”

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yourusername all the love songs were about u, my lover🧡

tagged: oscarpiastri

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[gravestrain]

I don't know how to feel, but someday I might (qh43)

in which Quinn will do just about anything to help his sweet girl.

This is 2.6k words of Quinn angst/fluff. It involves his girlfriend dealing with hate comments online. There are some hurtful things said about weight and appearances. This is a fem reader, with mentions of wearing makeup and dresses. She/her pronouns are used. Felt a little down lately and wanted to cheer myself up with some sweet Quinn. I hope you all enjoy this <3

There was almost nothing in the world that was easier than loving Quinn Hughes.

With his heart of gold and smile to match it, you found yourself falling in love with him almost instantly. It would have been impossible not to. To know Quinn is to love him. You doubt that there is anyone in the world who has met Quinn and has not been mesmerized by his charm and his raw kindness. Even his toughest opponents and fiercest rivals have nothing but kind things to say about your boy.

You met Quinn three years ago while you were on a girls trip at a rented lake house in Michigan. When you first saw your neighbor for the weekend, you were so caught off guard you tripped over your own feet and spilled your drink all over your feet. Quinn was quick to throw the towel he was holding out of his hands and on to your body to help you clean up the sticky mess that was now covering your body. Never mind the fact that in a house full of lazy boys, there was no other clean towels. It was just what he wanted to do.

Over stumbled apologies and blushing words, you exchanged numbers with Quinn. Neither of you were foolish enough to hide your intentions. At this point, you had both known you were only going to be in town for the weekend, but Quinn did not care, and neither did you. Your intentions were always to continue to talk to Quinn, even after the close proximity was no longer.

And you did. It was months of Facetimes and silly texts, until finally Quinn played a game near your town. Quinn insisted you came, and when you saw him again in the tunnels after the game, you knew you would never be able to move on, and Quinn felt the same way.

The start of the new season found you moving to Vancouver with Quinn. You were able to find a job similar to yours that was only 20 minutes away from Quinn's house. The choice seemed like a no brainer. And if you thought dating Quinn was a gift, nothing could compare to living with him. He was silly and considerate, adventurous and attentive. You found yourself falling in love with him more and more each day.

You were no stranger to Quinn's spotlight. It became more and more apparent to you when you moved to Vancouver. Almost every block had a Canucks fan, Canucks memorabilia, often sporting your boyfriend's face, loud and proud.

You were no stranger to the comments that other girls would make in the stands of Canucks games, or even at the bar while you were tucked right in to Quinn's side. They found Quinn to be as beautiful and as breathtaking as you did, and they paid no mind to the fact that you were hooked on his arm, or wearing his last name across your back, or even sitting with his family. Their intentions were to be with Quinn. They did not find you as a threat. But many made it their intentions to let you know that they were a threat.

You were public on social media, but with hardly any mention of your faceless boyfriend being Quinn Hughes. However, being the captain's girlfriend had automatically put you in the public eye, despite the fact that both you and Quinn tried your hardest to keep it on the down low publicly. It was challenging for Quinn to be in the spotlight at times, even after so long of being in it, and he wanted to make sure he tried his hardest to ensure that that spotlight never graced your wings. There was so much trouble that came with it, trouble that Quinn never wanted to expose you to. Nevertheless, some fans persisted.

"This is what you wear to stand next to the captain of the Vancouver Canucks? Maybe try a little harder next time," a comment had graced your post of your outfit from a Canucks gala. Despite your insistence that Quinn didn't pay for much, it hardly ever worked. Quinn had bought you the most beautiful dress, with a price tag you could not fathom. His insistence was that he saw you eyeing it on social media from a post of a fashion show, and he wanted you to have it.

The dress instantly made you feel beautiful, and Quinn's gaze and charming words made you feel beautiful tenfold. It was almost devastating how that feeling had disappeared so fast, just by the words and actions of a few cruel individuals who had made it their life's mission to tear you down.

Just one comment wouldn't hurt so bad. Unfortunately, there was tens of comments that point out a few flyaways, the creasing of your concealer, the cellulite on your arms, the rolls of your hips. You had tried your hardest not to let them bother you. But it bubbled up inside like a bad stew. When you find the one that hurt the worst, it caused you to sink to a feeling worse than you had ever felt. The comment read: "I don't understand why Quinn would want to be with a fat girl who does not know how to present herself in public. She has no redeeming features."

You tried your hardest to hide the comments from Quinn. You knew he rarely checked social media, so you made a promise to never let him know what they said and how they bothered you. You tried to insist to yourself that it was minuscule, it shouldn't matter. But the state Quinn found you in when he returned from his road trip was nothing but minuscule. It was no position he had ever found you in.

When Quinn FaceTimed you two nights ago after their game in Anaheim, you were wearing one of his Canucks blue t shirts, curled up in bed with your dog. When he walked through your bedroom doors, he found you in the same place, wearing the same t shirt, sporting the same hairstyle. His heart sunk to his toes. Were you hurt? How could he help you? What caused you to get into this state?

When he found you, your eyes were closed, but he knew you weren't sleeping. You had your head intentionally turned towards the wall, so as to not face Quinn. But even without seeing your face, he knew something was seriously wrong. And at that point, all he wanted was to see your beautiful face, to give him a little reassurance as to how you were feeling.

Quinn rounded the corner of the bed, kneeling down on the floor next to your head. "Hi sweetness," he muttered, running his fingers down the slope of your face. "Can I see your eyes, please?" He asked, causing you to shake your head lightly. He hummed at your answer, not wanting to push, but also knowing he had to get to the bottom of this.

"I brought you some takeout, your favorite. I know you have that project due in a few days and I figured you would be hungry." He had left the food on the table downstairs when he walked in to a silent house. No singing to music, no clambering of kitchen cabinets, no playing with the dog, nothing. The silence was eerie to him.

"I'm not," you muttered out in your smallest voice, cracking from lack of use, and even lack of water in your throat. You had a few sips over the last two days, but once it ran out, you couldn't get yourself to fill it. One of the only things you could manage to do the past two days was let the dog out. No matter how bad you were suffering, your sweet dog did not deserve to be punished for that. You let him out in the backyard only, not wanting anyone to see you walking on the sidewalk and be alerted by your state. There were a few other WAGs who lived in yours and Quinn's neighborhood, and at any sight of your despair, you know Quinn would have been alerted immediately.

"I'd like it if you could eat a little bit, though. I'm sure you're hungry, and your voice sounds dry. Can I fill your cup for you?" He posed it as a question, but he intended to fill it regardless of your answer. You shrugged, and Quinn took that as a win. He woke up your dog, assuming he had to go out. He journeyed downstairs and filled your cup. He also just let the dog out in the back, but promised a long walk in the morning. He only hoped you would come. It was something the two of you loved to do, walking the dog together after he came back from road trips.

As Quinn stood outside, the cold air biting at his shoulders, he tried to rack his brain of what could have possibly happened while he was gone. Did he forget something important? Did you miss a deadline? Did something happen at home? Nothing seemed to make sense, even when he tried to make sense of them.

Your dog was nothing if not loyal, so as soon as Quinn opened the door to let him back in, he bolted up the stairs to the bedroom, nosing his way through the door and back on to the bed with you. You put your hands in his fur, hoping to find some comfort in him. Silent tears streamed down your face. You saw the look on Quinn's face when he walked in to you. In a way, you were letting the trolls win even more. Quinn didn't deserve to come home to someone who couldn't get out of bed. At least, that's what the voices in your head were telling you.

Quinn walked quickly back up the stairs, but with less energy than your dog. He set your cup down on the bedside table, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand rubbing your calf over the blankets. He knew at some point you would tell him what's wrong. He didn't want to force it out of you, but at the same time, Quinn had been alerted to the fact that you had not left the bed in days. He was concerned.

Your sniffle gave you away, not pretending to hide. Quinn knew you were struggling, and there was no point in trying to hide your mood. "Why are you crying, lovely? I'd really like to help you, but I'm not sure how," he muttered, leaning in to softly wipe your tears away. "It's nothing, I should be able to handle it by now." you muttered, hinting him to what was wrong without giving away any details.

"Handle what, babe? The roadtrips? I know they're hard. They're hard for me, too. I promise you're not alone in that." Your heart softened at his kind voice, at his genuine concern. Of course the roadtrips were hard, and in a way it helped to know that they were hard for him too, but you knew that wasn't what was bothering you.

You shook your head lightly, curling in further on yourself. At this point, Quinn was even more confused, but he knew that you weren't going to budge. "I'm just gonna get ready for bed, okay sweetheart? We can talk more in a minute," he went to get ready, and also to collect himself and his thoughts.

When he walked into the en suite bathroom, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Brock's girlfriend had texted him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had her number for a reason, but they obviously didn't text much individually.

"Hi Quinn, sorry to bother you so late," it started. "I was a bit worried about Y/N these past few days because she went radio silent over the weekend. We were supposed to have plans over the weekend, but she bailed with pretty much no explanation. So I did some digging on social media, and I found some pretty nasty comments on her most recent posts. I know people sometimes make comments to her at games, but these comments are new. I just wanted to let you know in case that was what was bothering her."

Quinn couldn't believe his eyes. These were some of the most hateful things he had ever read. And he had no idea they were saying things at games. He noticed that you started caring more but also less simultaneously somehow. She did much more hair and makeup than usual, while also covering her body entirely, almost drowning herself in her clothes.

Quinn was horrified. How long have you been dealing with this? Why didn't you say anything? Quinn couldn't get back to the bedroom fast enough. He rushed over to the bed, pulling you into a hug immediately. He felt your tears soaking his shirt, and Quinn had tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. "Why didn't you say anything? I'm so sorry, I love you," he whispered into your neck.

"I didn't want to bother you. I thought I should be able to deal with it by now. The jealousy, the mean girls. But it has gotten worse. They've been truly evil. I tried not to let it bother me, but I couldn't help it." You didn't want to remove yourself from Quinn's embrace. It was the first time you felt comfort in days.

"My love, you are never a bother. I'm appalled of these things they're saying, I can't believe you've been dealing with this in silence. No one deserves this, especially not you, my sweet girl." He coaxed you slowly to look him in the eyes, but you were still touching at almost every nerve ending.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he murmured, running his finger across your cheek. "And above all that, you're kind, loving, caring, empathetic, selfless, giving, and so many other amazing things. You are none of those things they say about you, okay? I'm so sorry, my angel. I know I can't fix it, but I want to. Tomorrow, we're gonna spend the whole day together, okay? And I'm gonna pamper you like you've always deserved. I'm so sorry that you've been going through this. I'm gonna fix it. I'm gonna make a statement, we can limit comments to friends only, make a separate, more private account. Whatever you want, baby. I just want this to be fixed and I want you to be okay. You don't deserve to suffer like this because of some evil, hateful people."

You knew Quinn would be helpful and caring if he ever found out about this, but you never expected all of this. You were exhausted and thrilled just thinking about everything. You had let those hateful people bring you down for so long, now you just wanted to be with your sweet boy.

"Can we do all that tomorrow? I just want to be with you. And I lied, I'm starving, I can smell the food from downstairs and I'm practically salivating," Quinn laughed out loud, causing you to smile for the first time in days. "There's my angel, I love you so much. We can do whatever you want, okay? Anything, my treat. Whatever you want. You deserve that damn food, okay? And everything else in the world, I love you so much."

Tears had begun to stream down your face for a different reason. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have such a sweet, caring, and thoughtful man to have and to hold.

"I love you, Quinn. Thank you so much," you mumbled with watery eyes. When he leaned in and connected your lips with his, you knew you would get through this. Yes, their words still hurt. It wasn't fixed for good, it wasn't perfect, but you knew as long as you had Quinn by your side, you could make it through anything.

[moonydustx]

Can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Summary: In search of information, Law meets an archaeologist who brings all his insecurities and jealousies to the surface. Warnings: porn with practically no plot, explicit content, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, almost declarations of love. Law and F!Reader already have a "relationship" (depending on your point of view, it could even be part of A not so funny story). Despite bringing some canonical details, it diverges a little from the story. A/N: a few days ago an edit with this song appeared on my fy and it just stuck in my head and this idea came to me. Minors do not interact | +18 only

Requests open | one piece masterlist

Law seemed increasingly interested in the search for the Poneglyphs. It was the third island you visited that he knew where to find certain information. This time, only you and him disembarked from Polar Tang, the justification was that it would be something quick, just finding an informant.

You just didn't expect such information to be with an archaeologist. A beautiful, blonde and hot archaeologist. Law had already told you about her and how fame preceded her, how she liked to use men to her advantage and pleasure. That immediately set off an alert in your mind.

"What is she doing here?" was the first thing the woman said when she saw you entering the bar, which was the meeting point. "From what I remember, I said I would exchange the information in exchange for you coming alone, Mr. Surgeon of Death."

"You'd trade the information for money, Arine." he corrected her. "She's the strategist of my crew, I need her in these types of meetings."

The woman turned her nose in your direction and took Law by one of her arms, leading him into the bar. Just by the atmosphere of the place you knew that the woman had a certain influence there. Glances – both drawn and protective – danced around Arine. In a way, it made you feel out of place, it was as if you had the wrong clothes, the wrong hair, everything wrong, just a mere figure following the two of them.

At one of the tables further back, the woman sat down, almost merging her body with Law's, forcing you to sit on the opposite side. You even tried to avoid it, but her meek tone of voice and the hands that made a point of touching Law in every gap made a gray cloud of jealousy appear in you. As much as you ended your nights in the captain's room and were woken up by his kisses, you knew that nothing had been established. He was free to even be with the disgusting blonde in front of you.

Law, on the other hand, noticed the ignorance of the woman in your direction. The unwanted touches on him, Arine's provocative voice, but the information she brought matched what he was looking for, besides the fact that if he disagreed with the woman and ended up getting into an argument he would be putting both of you at risk.

"So..." the blonde's voice sounded more irritating than usual. "I don't believe you came just looking for information. The island is huge, I believe there is a favorite thing for you to do." even from across the table, you could see her throw her legs over Law's. "Or someone's favorite."

"My favorite thing here is you and the information you can give." he spoke harshly, immediately noticing the unfortunate choice of words.

That was the limit for you. Okay, there was no way she could know the history between the two of you, but you weren't obligated to watch Law make the slightest effort to get out of that situation. Your hands slammed harder than you expected against the table as soon as you stood up, attracting both of their attention.

"I'm going to get a drink." your eyes remained fixed on Law's and soon you turned your back to both of them.

Law could read the jealousy in your eyes as soon as you walked away, he knew he would need to invest his time in correcting it. He watched Arine get up and call you. He could have sworn you would kill the woman right then and there.

"You there." Arine poked your shoulder. "Get a drink..." she started, speaking louder so everyone would think everything was okay. "And get out of here. I believe that my Law is not very comfortable in the presence of his employees. You are hindering my efforts to taste him."

"What?" your voice came from your lips in disbelief. It wasn't possible that you were listening to that, as much as you wanted to finish her off, your priority was to help Law with the Poneglyphs. "Yes ma'am."

You turned your back on her and went to the bar, ordering a dose of whatever strong shit they could offer you. You wanted to disappear, just erase your mere and insignificant existence at that moment. A hand touched your waist and you looked hopeless. Just another asshole in that place.

Law watched Arine return, with a malicious smile on her lips and throw her body on top of him again. His body tensed with hatred at each touch from the woman. You wouldn't touch him like that in public, why would she have any right?

"Where do we stop?" she asked and before Law could respond, he watched a man approach you and touch your waist.

"I need to go." Law started to get up, but was stopped by the woman.

"Don't worry about your pet, my man will take good care of her. Even simple little things like her deserve a good night." Arine said close to his ear. "I have a hotel a few meters away, we can have our good night there."

Law only lasted a few seconds of the woman speaking, while the scene unfolded in front of him. The man remained glued to you, his hand remained on your waist but the disgust was clear in your eyes. Law was tired of it. He turned towards Arine and, pretending to fall for her charms, he ran his hand down the woman's leg.

"Is he your trusted man?"

"The best I have." she replied, proud of finally making Law give in. "Your little pet will like it." His hands went down to Arine's calves and as soon as he reached the small dagger he had seen hidden in her boot, he pulled it out and stuck it on the table. Soon after, Law allowed his powers to create a blue beam on his hand and the sharp object.

"Get him away from her now." Law snapped. Anyone watching from afar would never have imagined that he was about to kill a man. "I'd hate to have this show up instead of his necklace."

The woman whistled and snapped her finger twice and the man released you immediately, to Law's relief. Maybe you weren't the only person who let yourself be consumed by jealousy.

"You value your pet too much."

Law took the knife from the table and brought it to the girl's throat, noticing that the bar immediately stopped to watch them.

"Keep her out of your damn mouth." Law threw the dagger on the table and took out a small bag of berris from his pocket. "Our treaty ends here."

"It is a shame." the woman handed him a small card. By damn irony, it was the same hotel you two were at. "Come see me if you change your mind."

Law left the woman talking to herself and looked around the bar. You were gone. He considered returning the dagger to the woman's throat and asking if she had anything to do with it, but something told him no. The only answer he had was that you had gone to your base point, the hotel.

After flirting, asking you to go somewhere else and even threatening you because the man had a "job to do", just like that the man let you go. Trying not to understand the situation and moving away from that madhouse that was the bar, Arine and all the idiots involved, you returned to the hotel.

The first thing you did was take off your shoes. Why get ready for a damn meeting? Just Arine's presence made it clear that you were no match. You couldn't stop thinking about where Law could be, what the two of them could be doing. "My only favorite thing here is you" Law's words were still echoing in your mind when you heard a few knocks on the door.

Without bothering to think, you opened it, finding Law apparently without much patience.

"Are you ok?" he asked, entering the room.

The hurt consumed you and seemed to suffocate the angry words that surfaced and died in your lack of courage. But despite everything, he was still there and not with her.

"May I ask why you're pouting?" Law closed the door behind him, watching you cross the room and sit on the bed.

The sight of you with your arms crossed and a pout - just like a tantruming child - was cute but it was clear that something was bothering you and Law knew exactly what it was. He just wanted to press your buttons and see how far your hatred for Arine would go or if something had actually happened and he would need to start a hunt.

"I'm not pouting." As much as you wanted to go on a silence strike, you knew it would be immature - and maybe even wrong.

"Now you're doing even more." a barely audible laugh left his lips. The man placed Kikoku against the door and started to watch you. "I think I have a hunch what this is about."

"Of course, dear Arine must have told you." the venom in your voice gave away everything Law needed to know.

"Why did you disappear? Did that idiot do something?"

"I hated that place." you just responded, finding Law looking at you in a worried way.

"Not what I asked."

"Long story short, he wanted to fuck me, but I'm not that good."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Captain, I don't want to talk about it." You stood up, heading towards the door but a hand stopped you from continuing. "Besides, you should be wasting time with Arine."

"Are you really going to fall for her conversation?"

"I heard you." you just said. "Your favorite girl, in fact, she's the one who asked me to leave. You wouldn't feel comfortable with her "tasting" you in front of your employees." you imitated her tone of voice.

The cynicism in your voice as well as the bright line in the waterline of your eyes created an alert in the doctor's mind. Perhaps Arine's manipulation had gone too far, Law was beginning to consider it a bad idea to have given in - or at least pretended - that the woman's charms didn't even come close to what you did to him. His hand let go of yours, only to let you reach the door. Before your hand touched the doorknob, it was covered by Law's, which locked the door. He needed to make it up to you and he didn't want to be interrupted by it.

"Please don't do that. I hated her as much as you did." he turned you around, coming face to face with you. "There's no need to be jealous. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"I don't know." you let your face fall to the side his hand touched you, appreciating the small gesture. Law could manipulate you however he wanted, you would gladly accept it. "I just wanted to be pretty like her. You know, be your favorite."

Law could have replied that you were the most beautiful woman there - and for him, in all the seas, but he preferred other methods to convince you. Not allowing much time for you to continue mumbling, his body pressed against yours, his hand cupped your face and his lips collided with yours. His tongue passed under your lips, causing you to open them and give Law space to take you. It was like a fight for air and to ward off all those bad feelings that night had brought you. Impetuously Law invaded your mouth, purred against your lips, finally after that horrible night he could take you.

Your hands reached his shirt and unbuttoned it button by button, throwing it to some deserted corner of the small room. Wetness accumulated in your intimacy as you allowed your hands to pass over Law's abdomen, going down until you found a hard volume. Your fingers began to press against him, drawing small patterns on the tip of his dick.

"Do you want to taste it? You know, only you can." he whispered, hearing a please escape your lips. "Get on your knees."

You promptly followed his orders. Feeling your hands itch, you placed them on his thighs and allowed your lips to run along the coarse fabric of his jeans. In your field of vision you can see two tattooed hands unbuttoning the piece without any rush. Law watched your lips change the fabric of your jeans for the black underwear that covered them.

"Are you that eager?" again, the same low tone, the same teasing behind his voice.

His cock appeared in your field of vision and in a slow counterpoint to your anxiety, your tongue just slowly slid along its entire length, from base to tip. One of your hands reached the base, giving you space to cup his balls in your lips. Law's hand that was holding him against the door went down to his cock, taking it from your lips.

"Don't be mean." He pointed the tip at you, sliding it over your lips. "Do you remember how to ask it to stop?" He took one of your hands and placed it on his leg again. Two beats: a pause for breath, three beats: stop immediately.

You just nodded, opening your mouth and batting your eyelashes in Law's direction. The innocent look, the anxiety that was clear in you, the invasion was sudden, Law had already put up with too much of your provocation. His hand joined your hair, pushing you against the wall as he thrust deep into your throat, starting slowly and quickly increasing the speed.

"Is that what you want?" the tattooed fingers got even more tangled in your hair "It's only yours, take it all in"

The air seemed increasingly rarefied and your eyes stung with some involuntary tears at the same time you could feel your panties getting even wetter and your voice producing involuntary moans, your body reacted to the grunts coming from the man above you. Your eyes met Law's and you found one of the most beautiful scenes you had ever seen. A little sweat accumulated on his face, his chest rose and fell euphorically and his eyes focused on you. As if it were still possible, Law, noticing your gaze lost in theirs, stuck his dick even deeper into your throat.

"Fucking beautiful." he murmured, taking his dick out of you and watching you catch your lost breath. With his hands still stuck in your hair, he pulled you to your feet again. "The most beautiful woman, all mine."

One of the few remaining tears ran down your face and you felt it burn even more when Law slid his tongue over your cheek, licking it and erasing it from existence. All mine his voice whispered again. Leaving his clothes - and consequently you - behind, Law walked to the bed, sitting down and looking at you from afar. Even with the distance you could still see Law lost after you sucked him. His eyes danced over your body.

"Come here, take off your clothes for me, please." damn it. Hearing Law ask you for something silly, eyes still shining from watching you suck him was a little too much for you. You walked over to him, stopping between the man's legs. The first thing you took off was your blouse, followed shortly by the skirt and panties you were wearing.

"And you still ask if you're my favorite." Law murmured something that you suspected was just his thought, still trapped in a trance.

"Am I?" you used the same teasing tone he usually used, as he had just a few minutes ago. Your legs passed through Law's body, wrapping around his waist. Using equal strength for both of you, Law pulled you and lay down on the bed. “Law…” your warning tone appeared as you saw him pull you away from his dick, towards his face.

"My favorite, my only, the most beautiful..." he listed unpretentiously "What do you need to understand?" He started kissing your thighs, which were already around his cheeks. "Let me prove it to you."

Law pulled your hips down, your pussy falling over his lips. You had to suppress a scream when you felt his tongue travel all over your vulva, stopping at your clit. His hands settled on your thighs as you tried to roll against him, looking for more friction. The suppressed screams soon began to escape your lips in low moans every time you felt him slide his tongue inside you.

Law was usually methodical, he took as long as he needed to make you cum but now it was different. You could feel your even wetter pussy while Law grunting beneath you as squeezed you even tighter and sucked your clit without worrying about the mess made on his face. The precipice seemed just seconds away when he stopped, taking you off of him and placing you back on his hips. His lips were dripping with your honey as was his chin and your legs were still shaking from the orgasm that was behind you. Law's hand went up to his hair and took off the last piece of clothing on his body: the hat, placing it on your head.

"You know you are mine, just mine, just as I am yours." his hands slid over your breasts, going down and pulling your hips, fitting your entrance to his cock. "Ride me, take what's yours."

"Fuck Law." you moaned softly, feeling every inch of him fill you.

You could feel wet, but it was never enough when Law entered you. When you reach the base of his dick, you can feel him grunting along with you, his hands tightening the skin of your ass even more as his hips press into you.

You started slowly, your hands resting on Law's chest while your hips rose and fell millimeters, not wanting to move away from the feeling of being filled by him, of having every inch of your pussy filled. As the speed increased, your moans began to echo throughout the room and one of your hands involuntarily went up to your mouth, covering it.

"No, babe." Law pulled your hand and, with the other, held your two arms behind your back. "We're not in Polar Tang, I want to be able to hear you scream, at least today."

His feet planted themselves on the bed and Law began to move his hips against yours. He thrust hard, the noise of bodies coming together was as loud as your moans and you could also hear the words coming out louder and louder from his lips.

"Your little pussy is squeezing me so much, so good." He used one of his hands to find your breast, squeezing the nipple between his fingers and hearing you scream.

"Harder, please love." the word that escaped your lips worked as fuel for Law.

The hand holding your hands let go and your body fell against his chest. One of Law's tattooed hands got tangled in your hair while the other circled your back and attached itself to your waist. Sweet whispered nothings and screams of pure pleasure echoed throughout the room, leaving your lips and falling into Law's ears like pure delight.

"Fuck, cum for me babe" Law's lips found the sensitive spot below your ear. "I want to see my girl soak me."

The words were enough for you to feel your vision turn white and your body soften in Law's arms, while you used his name as a mantra. Without waiting for you to recover, Law held you on his lap, still inside you and took you to the nearest wall, starting to thrust into you mercilessly again.

"It's too much, please."

"Just a little more." Law murmured, his face stuck in the back of your neck, biting every piece of exposed skin. "Just give me one more."

"Damn, right there." Your voice was thin and broken, almost inaudible. Law hit the right spot inside you and in your limited field of vision, you could see the red tone on Law's skin just below your nails. "L-Law! I'm feeling something... Damn Law!"

Law could feel his dick getting wet as he watched you having a squirt that from your reaction he believed was the first time. His name sounded like the hottest thing he had ever heard and when he saw your pussy gushing he couldn't control himself and came, filling you with his seed, that would be a worry for later.

"I-I..." you started to speak to even that seemed too much for you, and you just let your head fall on his shoulder.

Feeling your body weak, Law guided you back to the bed, allowing you to lie against his body. The tattooed hands drew something invisible on your skin and your breathing was labored. "The wall... the neighbors..." you tried to list, still feeling weak. When you looked up to see if Law was listening to you, you found him smiling mischievously. "What are you thinking?"

"I heard we have an interesting neighbor here at the hotel." the pieces fell into place, making your face burn in embarrassment.

"She's going to hate me, even more."

"If it helps you, she already hated you." Law explained, caressing your cheek. "In the bar, she was the one who told that guy to talk to you."

"Ah, that doesn't make me feel any better. You mean a guy only hit on me because she asked?"

"What does that mean?" He seemed indignant and you quickly tried to correct yourself.

"I was already feeling ugly, that didn't make it much better."

"Do you need one more to understand how beautiful you are?" you knew exactly what Law was telling you about and you felt your face burn with shyness. "She's just a frustrated person, don't worry about anything she told you."

"Sour, damn blonde." you mumbled, earning a laugh from Law, who whispered your name softly, catching your attention.

"You know you're the only one, right?" he asked and you nodded. "And that you are amazing and beautiful."

"You're also the only one." his eyes followed your smile, as you snuggled into him. "And incredible, beautiful, strong. If I keep listing them, I'll end up putting you to sleep." you laughed, seeing Law acquire a more serious expression. "A coin for your thought"

"I-I... I lo..." he could remember what you had called him, he knew very well the feelings he had for you, but it seemed so difficult to bring them to the surface.

He still remembered when he allowed himself to actually feel that way for someone and watch those people leave him. Law knew he couldn't bear to see you go through the same thing. Taking him out of his daydreams and the speech stuck on his lips, you reached out to reach Law's forehead and place a small kiss, before then cuddling up to him again.

"I know. And so do I." you had your own fears, your own traumas and fears, you understood his fear.

For now it would be better this way, if your love remained between the two of you.

[ceruleanskies48]

Mizu’s Affinities with Trans Women

While many folks have drawn parallels between Mizu’s life experiences and those of trans men (AFAB living as a man, wearing a binder, deepening her voice, adopting masculine mannerisms, etc.), an under-explored topic is her affinities with trans women. 

From as early as Mizu can remember, she was forced to hide her femininity and live as a boy. In flashbacks, we see her “Mama” forcefully shaving her head, saying she “must be a boy, always a boy,” while she sadly clutches her fallen locks of hair. Mama’s supposed death in the hut fire only further cements in her the importance of living as a boy for her safety—to protect herself from the “bad men”—and it also leads her to seek vengeance, which requires her to live as a man (as Madame Kaji says, "under the law, revenge is a luxury for men like you"). In Mizu’s conversation with Mikio, she also confirms that she didn’t want to live as a man but had no choice but to do so because of the bad men and her revenge. 

Indeed, when Mizu is briefly given the opportunity to live as a woman, she takes it. Even before her marriage to Mikio, when she was reunited with Mama, she chose to dress like a woman. She no longer needed to live as a man since (as Mama explains) the bad men believed she died in the fire, and she was no longer on her revenge quest. When Mama exhausts Mizu’s savings, it’s notable that Mizu agrees to the arranged marriage instead of going back to living as a man to make money. 

Similar to trans women, however, Mizu was not socialized to live as a woman. She initially struggles to conform to womanly roles in Edo society, like acting appropriately submissive to her husband, moving elegantly (she’s shown to be clumsy while doing chores), and cooking meals. According to the Lead Character Designer, they intentionally made her women’s clothing fit awkwardly given her height. She is also self-conscious of her looks and how she does not fit the feminine ideals of her times. She’s used to people calling her ugly (including Mama, Swordfather, and Mikio). In a cut scene from Ep. 4, Mizu tries to put her hair up and gauge whether she could be considered attractive but concludes that she cannot. She exhibits jealousy toward Akemi (more on that here) for how she epitomizes feminine beauty and privilege and judges her for not appreciating the fact that she can “have anything she wants,” including the epitome of prizes for Edo women, a marriage into the Shogunate. 

Mizu’s marriage with Mikio also exhibits parallels to the safety challenges trans women can face in romantic relationships. Despite her initial struggles, Mizu is eventually able to win Mikio’s heart, in part by suppressing her more masculine attributes. For example, she pretends to not be able to throw the knife to cut down the apple. But for a little while, she is able to live a happy life, as a woman.

Her mother told her to hide her past, but she eventually trusts Mikio enough to reveal that she was raised as a boy and lived as a man. And not only any man, but a man dedicated to the most masculine Edo pursuit of swordsmanship. The fact that Mikio seemed not only open-minded about this but eager to see “all of her,” leads her to show him her masculine side as well. Unfortunately this backfires spectacularly. He rejects her, calling her a monster. Interestingly, Mizu intuited the connection between his rejection and her gender presentation. She tried to smooth things over by putting on makeup and her wedding kimono to use her femininity to soften his heart and implicitly show her willingness to suppress her masculinity and commit wholly to being his feminine wife, but it was already too late. He leaves her to be killed by the armed men (he was also most likely the one who ratted her out: see here).

The deaths of Mikio and Mama not only mark the end of her relationships with them but also the end of her life as a woman. She concludes she has nothing left in life but her revenge quest, which necessitates her living as a man. For a brief moment, she thought she could be herself and be loved, but that dream came crashing down with betrayal and tragedy. 

All of this is why I’m personally a huge sucker for feminine Mizu moments. I find them quite subversive even though she is AFAB. I hope in Season 2 she’ll be able to spend at least some of the time living as a woman since she won’t have the bounty on her head to worry about and it might actually be easier for her to present as a woman in London accompanying Fowler. Also, it would be empowering for her to explore leveraging her femininity as power rather than having to constantly suppress it. Here’s to kick-ass Mizu in a dress! 🍻 

[mx-anthony-janthony-crowley]

aziraphale's relationship with heaven vs crowley's relationship with hell in S2 serves as this beautiful, heartbreaking metaphor for the choice that so many queer people with unaccepting - and in many cases abusive - families find themselves forced to make. crowley has made the leap. he's cut himself off, and when they've tried to stay in touch or even bring him back, he's always resisted. "we're better than that, you're better than that!". in a way he's been through it before - he was rejected by heaven, and so it makes sense to him to take the opportunity to reject hell on his own terms. it doesn't come without consequence, of course. so many queer people find themselves having to suppress their identities until they're financially independent - cut to crowley living in his car. but he's made the choice, and he's free to do his own thing now. aziraphale, at the start of the season, is also more or less completely separate from heaven; we know from crowley "they don't talk to him anymore", and he's not making any effort to get in touch with them. but then when they ask him to come back, they manipulate him again. the metatron offers him coffee and then tells him "i've ingested things in my time, you know" - a world away from gabriel's "why do you consume... that?". he's assured that the things which he thought made him too... different, too not-good for heaven, are in fact okay. aziraphale was finally living his own life, far away from them, and doing the things he enjoyed, the things that they always shamed him for. but now he thinks, maybe he can go back and this time they'll accept him - it doesn't have to be like it was before! he's changed and maybe they have too, and if they haven't then maybe they'll listen to him! he can show them how to be better, he can make a difference. he isn't yet ready to face the reality that he can never be the person (well, angel) that they want him to be, not without losing sight of what makes him him. he might wish he could bring himself to say no, to cut them off, but he can't do it. because despite it all, he still has hope that they can change. and of course he does - years of trauma have told him time and time again that they're the good guys, after all. so he thinks, if they can't change, then who can? if they can't accept him, who will?

[catiuskaa]

had to make sure you’d catch it.

SUMMARY: no one expected jeongin to be the first to marry in the group, but furthermore, no one expected minho to be the one to ask you first, and certainly not like that.

REQUESTED! by a pookie anonnie right here. fluff!!! minho!!! yess!!! we love to see it. tysm for this, hope you like it as much as I did! <3

CW: use of sarcasm (because yes?), use of very stupid humour (because it makes everything better), one (1) mention if hyunlix (just for funsies) the one and only beyoncé is mentioned once (yes this is a warning because it’s a silly joke but it’ll make sense i promise) and welp, WEDDINGS MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️🗣️ WTF IS A COMMITMENT 👹👹👹/jkjk

WC: 2.1k

A/N: can someone tell jypapi that now I need more of Lee Know in suit and tie? thanks ^^

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

Weddings.

Ah, yes.

That motherfucker.

It’s not like you had anything against the people that were marrying each other —God, no! Good for them!—, but rather how seeing husband and wife looking flawless and so in love made you feel.

Lonely.

As fuck.

But it all changed when you went to a wedding with a plus one for the first time. Well, he had been invited to a wedding, and you happened to be around and free.

It had been not too soon before you two started dating, but a small part of your brain knew that if you hadn’t seen Lee Minho in that gorgeous tuxedo that evening, or maybe before, when he blushed as he asked if you were free, then perhaps your choices would’ve been different —which was a blatant lie, because you were and still are head over heels for him, but we’ll keep it for comedian purposes—, because damn did that man look good in a suit.

It was when you entered the venue with him by your side, the flutters of going with your friend and crush to a wedding, of all places… the flowers, the setting, and, oh, the couple.

Everything was beautiful. It almost made you feel like you were the main character, the bride, despite the obvious knowledge that it could only be that gorgeous woman dressed in white, unlike you, in a short and fitted dress in a dark blue hue, matching your companion’s tie.

“I never would’ve thought you liked weddings so much.” Minho whispered in a soft snicker, as teasing as always, eyes fixated in the way you seemed to glow.

But you two were sat next to each other as the officiant spoke, and he was leaning close to you, his lips right by the shell of your ear, and Jesus Christ in motorbike, because he looked outstanding, and oh my god, because his hand was resting on your leg, warming up your body, that was also covered by his suit jacket because poor you had underestimated how cold a church could be, even in the end of summer.

‘Liked’ weddings? You would have cackled loudly if the setting had been more appropriate. If it meant that Minho would treat you like that every single day, you’d fucking marry one.

But instead, you chuckled softly, laying your hand on his, the one that still rested right above your knee, and you leaned too, silently reeling in the smell of his cologne.

“Never thought you’d take me to one.”

And it was not like you were going to know too soon, but to Minho, in that moment, time seemed to freeze as he stared at your features.

You smiled at him, and it had been like always, but to him, it was the most gorgeous smile he had ever had the pleasure to see, let alone cause, and it made his heart feel tight on his chest, a blush that ran to his cheeks and ears, as red-tinted as your lips, so sweet-looking that Minho had to hold back not to kiss you, keeping him from checking if they’d taste just like how they looked.

He didn’t just want to take you to weddings.

And with that thought in mind, months later, after several dates going coffe shop to coffe shop, falling in love with you, with the soft and soothing tone you spoke to his pets and how beautiful you looked like in his house, happily petting Soonie, he knew then and there that his house wasn’t his home anymore.

You were.

And he kissed you tenderly that night, struggling to find a way to express these feelings with words.

So it made both of you feel very giddy when years later, another wedding showed up.

“You’ve gotta be fucking with me.” He had mumbled, reading the mail as he entered back home. “Jagi, I’m home!” He stated loudly, the cats meowing him welcome.

You came from your study room, leaving an email half written to welcome him back for the day. He handed you the mail, but not before pecking your forehead.

“What’s going on?” You smiled softly in slight confussion, to which he grinned at you, head tilted to the first letter in the bunch.

You stared at it, your eyes turning wide, and read the sentence a couple times.

“There’s no way.” You covered your mouth, laughing in disbelief. “Our little Innie is getting married?”

“I think I lost a bet to Hyunjin.” Minho chuckled.

“Have you called him?” You smiled, excited, cheerfully going back to your study to pick your phone.

“I just saw that idiot back in JYP, he didn’t even tell us!”

Two months. Yang Jeongin, little baby bread, was marrying his now fiancé in two fucking months.

Minho couldn’t believe it, nor could you.

And then, as soon as autumn started to arrive, the first leaves turning different tones of red and yellow, falling to the ground.

Then, the wedding date came by.

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

You embraced Jeongin’s wife in a tight hug.

“How does it feel?” You mumbled giddily, feeling Minho’s arm go back to your waist as soon as you let go of the beautiful woman dressed in white.

He’d been extra clingy the whole venue, and you had loved and cherished every moment of it. You both knew what that first wedding had meant for the other, all those years ago. It made your tummy fill with butterflies, ones that had been there ever since Minho swooshed your way.

The bride grinned happily, trying hard not to cry so she wouldn’t ruin her makeup.

“It’s like a dream I’m about to wake up from.” She snickered, cheeks covered in a pink hue that couldn’t be hidden with the light foundation she was wearing. “But you’ll get it quite soon, right?” She muttered with a smile, as if in confidence, like sharing a secret you were supposed to know.

“Ah?” But you were clueless.

Before realizing she could’ve fucked up a major canon event, his husband called her from affar, busy dealing with all the guests and the photographer, a tall man with little to no patience and lots of angry italian gestures.

“C’mon, quick.” Minho grinned next to you. “Let’s get to the chocolate fountain before someone eats all the strawberries.”

You two chuckled, sprinting towards the large set of tables and the main table, filled with different types of fruits and cheeses.

“Mmhhm!” You hummed, the warm chocolate melting on your mouth, mixing with the sweetness of the strawberry. “We really need one of these back at home.”

You two giggled and ate a couple more strawberries.

“You have chocolate in your mouth.” Minho mumbled.

You turned to face him, and he snickered, his hand traveling to your face and kissing the corner of your lip, cleaning it.

The chocolate tasted better like that anyways.

You felt your face flush, and you tutted at him playfully.

“You can look, not touch,” you mumbled with a toothy grin. “I spent so much time pissing off the makeup artists back at their place, I can’t have you ruin my lipstick, sir.” You chuckled teasingly.

“I can’t?” Minho raised his eyebrows, and you felt small under his stare, like a little prey. “Really?”

You blushed, pouting. “Minho, not fair.”

He laughed loudly at you, and then back hugged you.

“We should move before they realize we ate half of the strawberries.” He mumbled next to your ear, and cheekily nibbled on it for a second.

You giggled at his antics, and went back to where everyone was settled, joining and taking a couple of pictures with the group.

Your smile widened looking at them, groom and bride, who casually rambled about something you couldn’t hear.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your boyfriend grinned curiously next to you.

You looked at him, your heart fluttered.

Weddings didn’t feel lonely anymore.

“They look so cute together.” You sighed. “So beautiful.”

Minho sighed too, his arm swiftly going back to your shoulders.

“Very.” He muttered softly. He wasn’t talking about the couple.

Laughter and conversations filled the air as guests, dressed in their finest, mingled beneath the gentle glow of twinkling lights.

“It’s time for the bouquet throw!” A loud voice announced.

You looked at Minho and winked teasingly.

“Hold my purse.” You smirked in between giggles. “This one’s mine.” He blushed at your determination.

It wasn’t that you had forgotten what catching the bouquet meant, rather just casually left that thought at the back of your mind.

Minho almost shivered, barely cathing your bag.

Marrying you?

Something felt heavier on the pocket of his jacket.

You settled in the group of women that stood a couple of feet away from the bride, who was laughing and pointing at someone in the midst of the girls.

“Good luck, ladies!” A low voice made you cackle loudly.

“Good luck, Felix!” You chuckled. “Good one, Hyune!” You sent a thumbs up to Hyunjin, and he laughed, blushing.

With excitement bubbling in the air, the moment arrived slowly, almost painfully so. A hush fell over the gathered guests, their eager eyes fixed on the radiant bride. She held the bouquet, a bundle of beautiful daisies, like a symbol of wishes waiting to be granted. With a grin, she turned around, and a playful spark lit up her eyes.

Full of anticipation, she raised the bouquet high above her head. Time seemed to pause for an instant, and then, with a joyful toss, she…

She… stopped?

You didn’t have time to frown in confusion when she turned around again.

The guests that had been crowded around you moved away, and the bride giddily walked towards you.

She squealed. “This is so cute. Here, girl. It’s yours.”

And she handed you the bouquet.

You blabered confused sounds of vowels, not quite understanding what was happening yet.

Gasps and other surprised reactions filled the venue, and you looked around, wondering what was all the fuss about.

“Sorry to ruin the fun, jagi.” A known voice sounded tenderly behind you, and then he giggled. “I had to make sure you’d catch it.”

With your eyes wide and your features displaying a soft grin of surprise, you turned around to face him.

“I fell in love with you in a wedding.” He started. “Not really, considering I had been pinning for you long before, which Felix never hesitated to say how down bad I was for you and how blind I was for not addmitting it.”

Your eyes swelled with tears, your hands covering your mouth. “M-Minho…”

He sniffed, holding back his own, a blush deep on his face.

“I fell in love with you over and over again, in every date we went to and every time you came by my appartment to say hi to the cats, claiming that you felt like they missed you, when it was most likely me who did.” He stared at his hands, fidgeting with them, his palms feeling sweaty.

He raised his head then, and stared deeply into your eyes. He chuckled, falling in love with you once more.

“I have a feeling that, over the course of our lives together, I will fall in love with you as many times as there are stars in the sky.” Minho smiled tearfully, a lump on his throat. “Over and over again.”

You started laughing as tears fell down your cheeks. He bent down on one knee, and your pulse faltered for a moment.

“Will you marry me?”

Because in your first wedding together, he did’t just want to take you to weddings and see other people getting married.

He wanted to marry you.

“Minho, I-” you sobbed, smiling. “Yes! Please!” You chuckled.

He hugged you tightly, and of course, just to make sure you knew who you were getting married to, he teased you.

“Like the one and only godess, Beyoncé, said once,” he mumbled in your ear, “if you like it and you’re sure, put a ring on it.”

“Minho!” You squirmed in between chuckles. “That’s not how the lyrics go!”

He shrugged. “English is hard,” he giggled. You laughed too, pulling him into a kiss.

You sure loved an idiot. But it was your idiot fiancé, soon to be your idiot husband.

Yours only.

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

~Kats, who hasn’t been in a wedding since 2018, and i think it kinda shows lol