#writing (kind of)

[malikselfindulgence]

I'm literally so sleepy rn but durian thoughts. Many of them . This is so long . Like really really long . Um

I very much think when Morshid would get mad or upset he'd seek Wukong out and purposefully pick a fight to get it out of his system - Morshid does not let himself feel because, to him, feelings are useless if they're not being used for a good cause . Fighting Sun Wukong is a good cause, for whatever reason . Sun Wukong is at first unaware of this and thinks Morshid is being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole, and retaliates exactly how Morshid wants him to , and it helps get shit out of his system too

NOW POST S-3 THIS CHANGES . For starters they don't really hate each other anymore. Wukong recognises how miserable Morshid appears just before he gets mean and bites . Wukong doesn't want to fight anymore, not really, and he doesn't think they should, but what else would he do? They fight, and neither of them feel better after it, but they do it anyways, and what for?

I think one night Morshid shows up and Swk is tired, really tired, of all of this . He thinks Morshid might be too, if the softening of his blows and him fleeing at the sight of blood is anything to go by . Morshid sits down. His shoulders are hunched and his hair hovers over his face, but Wukong thinks he saw something glistening under his eyes. Wukong sits next to him. They don't say a word. Wukong's not sure what this means for them, or what Morshid's thinking. He sets his hand over Morshid's. His eyes are set on the floor, but if he'd been looking he'd have seen Morshid's lips tremble. Something flips inside Morshid and he just starts talking and talking and talking- spilling his heart out right here on the floor, and his voice keeps cracking, and he feels humiliation eat him whole at the fact he's acting like such a child, and in front of swk no less. Swk listens . He doesn't say anything, just sits there and listens, fiddling with Morshid's hand. Once Morshid's done Wukong stands up to leave, and Morshid feels everything freeze at once. He doesn't move. Wukong comes back only a few minutes later with a cup of tea and those terrible peach chips and Morshid feels embarassed at what he'd assumed. Morshid says if he lived here he'd die of malnutrition from having nothing to eat but these all day, and they're both smiling, and their hearts jump a little at the implications, which is a ridiculous thought to have. They stay there for the rest of the night and Morshid wakes up with a ratty blanket over him. He takes it home. They don't mention this day again

[nariarts]

Spent a ridiculous amount of time last night obsessively editing my hand written zines in Photoshop to take away any tiny blemishes so they were definitely readable.

Whatever. Understand or don't.

[acorviart]

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[wyntings]

trying to decide whether to make a new blog for my wip or just post abt it here

[ramblesamongstardust]

I understand the "I will die for you" ship dynamic, but what about the "I will not let you die, I will not let myself die- we will, at any cost, survive" kind of couple?

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[tossawary]

This is petty fandom salt, BUT... I've been chewing on this phenomenon that I've been calling "Fandom's Darling". It is related to things like "Author's Darling" and "Mary Sue / Gary Stu" and "Protagonist Halo" and all that jazz, where one character gains a peculiar narrative weight in a story.

"Author's Darling" is when a writer has a favorite character, and the world and all other characters sort of get... warped to put the Darling in the spotlight. It's most noticeable in TV shows with multiple writers, when a character you personally like suddenly has their previous characterization destroyed to make another character look good somehow. Every other character might become weirdly incompetent. The Darling's feelings are treated as The Most Important Feelings in any given situation. The logic of the fictional world seems broken past suspension of disbelief in order to validate this one character's beliefs or skillset or some other fantasy. And so on.

"Fandom's Darling" is what I've been calling the pattern where a fandom essentially crowns a New Protagonist for their fanfiction stories (it's often a side character rather than the original protagonist, but it can also happen to protagonists). This character becomes the self-insert for all sorts of indulgent fantasies, gaining special powers or backstories, and/or becoming the focus of extreme whump, and/or hooking up with all the various hotties, starring in all sorts of tropey AUs, and so on. They're not always an obvious Mary Sue version of themselves, but the character's original personality and interpersonal relationships tend to get warped or dropped completely, and other characters tend to become a little flat around them. I call it "Fandom's Darling" because it's not just one self-indulgent fantasy fic (you do you! Have fun!) with characterization choices that I don't vibe with (I have neither the time nor the desire nor the authority to police anything, I am just venting), but rather a prolific mini-fandom of sorts revolving around this empty doll / fanon version of the chosen vessel character, so it becomes a little unavoidable.

I am salty about this (mildly frustrated) (imagine a soft sigh of disappointment before I just go do something else) because you are FUCKED if you actually liked the canonical version of this character and their interpersonal relationships. It's almost worse than liking an obscure character that no one cares about. There's about a thousand fics starring your fave, but maybe only about a dozen of them are actually rooted in any kind of recognisable canon.

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[lgbtlunaverse]

Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[bluegiragi]

learning moment (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

more explanation under the cut

I think that so far, Soap has clearly demonstrated himself to be the more emotionally intelligent one of the pair, but it doesn't mean he doesn't still get frustrated at times. He's also just an emotional guy, and is working himself up a bit. This is a difficult topic for him to want to remain calm over, and there's a lot of factors contributing to his reaction.

One big factor is that he is a werewolf and he sees things through the eyes of his human side and wolf side. The shades of grey that Ghost sees in the Mexico operation just isn't there for Soap - to him, Ghost's 'pack' was under attack and he successfully defended it (this 'pack instinct' is something he shares with Price). The fact that his wolf now considers Ghost his in some way also contributes to his upset over having to read about what happened to him in such a clinical way. Werewolves can be kind of irrationally territorial, and although Soap is used to reading reports just like this, the fact that it's concerning Ghost (in probably the most vulnerable state of his life) is raising his hackles.

It's not a fight, because at the end of the day, Soap isn't mad at Ghost, just at his circumstances. But he's basically just asserting some emotional boundaries here with Ghost (who is, for what it's worth, I'd say a bit surprised and mostly bemused here.)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[paperclipninja]

I swear trying to write smut feels like:

His hands were hands and then the fingers were in the hand and the hand was with the fingers and the fingers had the hand in the other hand then the fingers dragged to the hand with the fingers and it was hot

[sematarygirls]

        BOYFRIEND!RAFE x ANXIOUS!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ protected p in v, oral (f! receiving), established relationship, loss of virginity, reader and rafe being dorks, slow sex, these bitches do not shut up, reader is very insecure about her body and of course, has anxiety

NOTES .ᐟ this is representation for all my anxious and insecure girlies who giggle and blurt out random stuff when they're nervous (aka me)

You and Rafe were both on his bed making out, him laying underneath you as you straddled his waist—his idea, of course, citing that it would be more comfortable for both of you that way. "You better just have something in your pocket," you jokingly mumbled against his lips, feeling something distinctly hard and suspiciously close to his dick pressing against you.

You had a tendency to make a lot of dumb jokes and laugh when you were nervous, blurting out whatever came to mind before you could decide against it, which was ironic since overthinking was a second nature to you. You were shy and got nervous a lot, especially around Rafe. He was your first boyfriend and the hottest guy you'd ever laid your eyes on, neither of which helping your nerves.

Rafe's hands slipped under your shirt to touch your bare skin, holding you firmly on his lap. "Wouldn't you like to know," his smirk was teasing as he pulled back from the kiss to peer up at you.

"Uh, yeah, that's kind of the whole point of asking," you also pulled back, sitting up as you smiled down at him. You liked it when Rafe went along with your stupid jokes, bantering with you to put you at ease. He never made you feel weird or awkward for using humor to cope with your anxiety.

"Well, if you must know, I'm packing heat," Rafe quipped with a mischievous grin, his grip on your hips tightening.

You gasped exageratedly, feigning shock. "You have a gun?" You knew very well what he meant, but when did that ever stop you from saying something stupid?

He snorted, his blue eyes shining with amusement. "Yeah, I have a gun in my pants because that makes so much sense," he replied sarcastically, finding your nervous humor endearing.

"Okay, Mr. Sassypants," you rolled your eyes playfully, your palms resting on his chest as a smile pulled at your lips.

"Mr. Sassypants?" Rafe repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You know, that's not a very nice thing to call your loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend."

"Well, I can't help that my loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend is such a diva," you grinned, feeling his chest rise and fall, his heart beating steadily under your fingertips.

"Diva?" He gasped in mock offense, his hands sliding up your sides. "I'll show you a diva." In one swift motion, he flipped your positions, pinning you beneath him.

You laughed, looking up at him with a smile despite the anxiety gnawing at you. He had a way of putting your mind at ease with just one look, and the soothing circles he was rubbing on your skin were definitely helping. He stared back at you, his gaze softening. He loved your smile and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed. Truthfully, he loved everything about you, even your innate ability to make everything a tad bit awkward.

His eyes searched yours intently, searching for any signs that you wanted him to stop. Noticing his serious turn of demeanor and his intense gaze, you felt your cheeks heat up. "Oh, cmon, don't get all serious on me now," you rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, I take my role as your boyfriend very seriously," he grinned, leaning down to kiss your neck. "And, it wouldn't be very boyfriendly of me to let you go on without knowing the wonders of sex."

"Oh, right, of course, it would be for my benefit," you giggled, your heart racing at the idea of being intimate with him. You weren't exactly against the idea, but you were still a virgin, and the idea of being with someone like that was undoubtedly nerve-racking.

You could feel Rafe smile against your skin, his hands sliding farther up your sides. "Uh huh, always thinking of what's best for my girl."

"Wow, who knew you were so selfless?" You giggled, biting your lip as he nipped as your skin. Your fingers slotted into his hair as he continued to kiss and suck at your neck, his hot breath fanning against your heated skin.

"I'm a saint, what can I say?" He mumbled, his tone teasing. He was being careful, trying to reassure you without actually saying anything because he knew you'd prefer to keep things as lighthearted as possible to make you forget about how serious the moment actually was. He could tell you were nervous, and he was determined to make you as comfortable as possible.

"Uh huh, a saint," you smiled as he slowly, tentatively pushed your shirt up your body. He was giving you time to tell him to stop, maybe even slap him if you wanted to, but you didn't. As much as you felt like you were going to die on the spot at the idea of him seeing you naked, you trusted him, and you wanted this.

"I am but a humble servant of my sexy girlfriend," he pulled back from your neck to search your eyes again, pausing for a moment before your shirt revealed your bra. You gave him a small nod, and he smiled, tugging the shirt over your head as you leaned up a little and lifted your arms to help him. He threw the shirt aside, eyes roaming your skin, as if memorizing every detail. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed out.

"Shut up," you said bashfully, your heart beating faster under his intense gaze. There was a voice in the back of your head telling you that you weren't pretty enough for him, that he would hate how you looked, and that was why you preferred to fill the silence with easy jokes and stupid quips. It made it easier to silence that nagging part of you that thought you weren't good enough for him.

"No, I mean it," he insisted, his fingers slowly tracing the lace edging of your bra. "You're like, way too pretty to be real. I mean, look at you." There was a sincerity to his words that he couldn't fake, an edge of awe and pure unbridled devotion that made your head spin.

The way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way he touched you like he worshipped every inch of you—it was all overwhelming in the best possible way. It had you scrambling in your mind to say something, anything, even if that something was a dumb dick joke.

"I bet you're thinking about saying something stupid, aren't you?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he leaned down to pepper kisses over your collarbones and down the swell of your cleavage.

"I never say anything stupid," you breathed out, as he kissed the skin that wasn't hidden behind your bra. It made your heart flutter that he knew you so well, but it also made you realize how awfully predictable you were.

"Uh huh and I'm the Queen of England," he retorted sarcastically, reaching up to slide one of your bra straps down your shoulder, kissing the bare sliver of skin that was revealed.

"Oh my God, you are?" You gasped, his remark loading you with the perfect ammunition to say something stupid. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness."

"Mmm, flattery will get you everywhere," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to kiss and touch you, slipping your other strap off. He slowly unhooked your bra, his eyes meeting yours as he paused, asking for silent permission. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously before nodding.

He pulled your bra off almost instantly, his gaze sweeping over your bare chest. You felt so vulnerable beneath his gaze, resisting the urge to cover yourself. "Okay, your turn, pretty boy," you swiftly said, trying to ease your nerves and figuring you might be a little more comfortable if you weren't the only half-naked one.

"Yes, ma'am," He smirked, leaning back to pull his own shirt off, revealing his muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare, eyes roaming over his abs and the way his muscles flexed as he tossed his shirt aside. He settled back over you, his hands sliding up your sides. "Better?"

"You are annoyingly hot," you huffed, finding it completely unfair that someone as perfect as him could even exist, let alone be on top of you right now.

"Aw, you're just saying that because you want in my pants," he teased, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "But I can't blame you, I am pretty irresistible." He leaned down, swallowing the small gasp you let out at his touch as he captured your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.

"That's slander," you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and curling your fingers into his hair as you pulled him closer.

"Mmm, then sue me," he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, slowly making his way to your chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. He was ridiculously skilled with his mouth, knowing exactly how and where to kiss you to drive you crazy. "Yknow what, maybe I will," you retorted breathlessly, your chest rising and falling a little faster.

"I think we can come to some sort of settlement out of court," He paused, his hot breath washing over your skin before he slowly, deliberately wrapped his lips around one of your peaks, swirling his tongue around it. "What do you think?"

Your lips parted at the feeling, intaking a sharp breath of air. "Uh, yeah, yknow that could work maybe," you grinned, your fingers gently tugging at his hair as he ravished your tits with attention.

"Mmm, I thought it might," he hummed with a cocky grin, switching to give equal attention to your other breast, your back arching ever so slightly, urging him closer. He smirked against your skin, making his way lower and leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. His hands slid down your sides to your hips, fingers curling around the waistband of your pants.

"Hey, wait, I don't want to be naked first," you protested, only half joking. You would rather die than be fully naked in front of him while he sits there with his clothes on.

"Oh, trust me, I have no intention of leaving my pants on any longer than necessary," He assured you with a mischievous grin, slowly unbuttoning your jeans, his knuckles brushing against your skin.

"Yeah, 'cause you're a freak," you grinned, moving on to the making fun of your boyfriend portion of the program in an attempt to soothe the pit of nausea in your stomach. You were kind of scared, not that you wanted to be lame and admit that.

"Hey, I resent that," He protested, but his tone conveyed the opposite message as he tugged your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth, expert motion, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm just enthusiastic, that's all."

"Enthusiastically a whore," you snorted, letting your head fall back, staring at the ceiling. You'd really rather not see yourself naked right now, not with the amount of anxiety already coursing through your veins. You did not need a reminder of what Rafe was seeing.

"Whore?" He teased, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs. "I think you mean an amazing boyfriend who loves you and wants to make you feel good."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Uh, no, I'm pretty sure I mean whore," you grinned, reluctantly looking down at him despite yourself.

"Well, this whore is about to rock your world," He smirked, slowly trailing kisses up your inner thigh, gripping your hips. "Just relax and let me do all the work." His voice was low and seductive, his intentions clear.

"You're such an idiot," you laughed at his cheesy choice of words, a little nervous that the witty banter would have to be put on hold. He can't exactly respond to your sarcastic remarks with his mouth occupied.

He hummed, his breath hot against your core. Your breathing picked up, and you were unsure whether it was anticipation or if you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He slowly dragged his tongue along your slit, groaning at your taste on his tongue and the subsequent gasp that fell from your lips, making his painfully hard cock twitch in his jeans. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them further apart and opening you up to him. He had dreamed of this moment, imagined this exact scenario about a half a dozen times as he got himself off, and now that it was actually happening, he was going to relish every moment.

He began to eat you out like a man starved, his tongue delving deep inside your tight heat, familiarizing himself with every inch of you. His nose nudged at your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that pulled a low whine from your throat. Your fingers threaded into his hair, moaning at the unfamiliar pleasure.

His fingers replaced his tongue, his mouth moving up to the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking it into his mouth, determined to send you over the edge. He pushed his fingers deep inside and curled them, finding that spot that made your back arch and your hips buck against his mouth.

"Rafe," his name left your lips a breathy whimper as your head fell back against his pillows. Rafe was no stranger to having women under him, writhing and moaning his name, but something about it being you made him crazy. It took all his self-control not to blow his load in his pants right there and then.

He redoubled his efforts, eager to make you cum, rubbing that sweet spot inside you with ruthless precision and sucking on your clit, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub. Another moan fell from your lips, your grip on his hair bordering on painful as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your legs practically shaking at the intense pleasure.

He groaned as he felt you spasm around his fingers, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled away, grinning as he took in your dazed expression. He carefully slipped his fingers from your quivering hole, bringing them to his mouth. He couldn't help the moan that rumbled low in his throat as he tasted you on his tongue. God, you were perfect.

His eyes flicked up to yours as his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean. "Good, huh?" He asked, his tone smug. He knew it had been good, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"I'm gonna slap that stupid look off your face," you playfully rolled your eyes, your skin practically burning up with embarrassment.

"I think that would take our case from a civil lawsuit to a criminal assault charge," he grinned, calling back to your previous joke about taking him to court. He positioned himself over you again to press his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"It's my first offense and a misdemeanor," you mumbled into the kiss, cupping his face. "Worst I'll get is a fine, so... totally worth it."

"Okay, smartass," he pulled away, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, gazing down at you lovingly.

"Just saying," you smiled softly up at him, his hair falling into his face and his blue eyes sparkling. He really loved you, and it was evident just from the way he looked at you. He'd never felt anything like it before. He loved you so much it terrified him.

But, of course, you had to ruin the moment of peace because shutting up was not something you were wired to do, especially not in the face of such charged silence. "Your little friend is poking me again," you blurted out the words before you could stop yourself. Little friend? You really couldn't have come up with anything else?

Rafe couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he rocked his hips against you, making you gasp softly. "He's just happy to see you." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned down at you, his fingers absently tracing along your side.

"Okay, well, can you tell him I don't really know him like that, so maybe he should calm down a little bit," you couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but you loved it, and you loved him. He understood you in a way you never thought you'd be understood by anyone.

"He says he's not planning on staying a stranger for much longer," he smirked, his hips rolling against yours.

"This is actually so stupid," you giggled, your hand covering your mouth as you laughed beneath him.

"Oh, now it's stupid?" He rolled his eyes, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "You're the one who started it."

"Shut up," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "Okay, okay, you can... start now, I guess," you said awkwardly. There was only so long that you could stall with stupid dick jokes. Besides, you felt a little bad that he had been so patient and undoubtedly, extremely hard.

"About time," he murmured with faux annoyance, his voice low as he fiddled with his belt buckle and pulled it through the loops, tossing it aside before popping the button on his jeans and slowly unzipping them.

You sucked in a breath, trying to calm your nerves as the sound of him pulling his jeans off seemed to echo through the room. You wanted this. You knew you did, but you couldn't help the pit of fear in your stomach.

He paused, feeling your body tense beneath him as you took a deep breath, a sign he knew all too well. "Hey, look at me," he coaxed softly, cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We can wait if you're not ready. Just tell me to stop, and I will, no questions asked, no hard feelings. We can just forget all about it," he reassured you.

Your heart fluttered as you heard your boyfriend's words, meeting his gaze and seeing the sincerity behind his eyes. "No, I- I want to. I'm just... scared, yknow," you bit your lip nervously, mentally kicking yourself. You always seemed to be scared. There probably wasn't a single thing in the world that you weren't scared of.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, pressing gentle kisses to your face, your neck, your collarbone—anywhere he could reach. "There's nothing wrong with being scared. It's your first time. If you weren't scared, that would be a little concerning."

You laughed softly at his words. "You just make sure you wrap it up. I don't know where you've been," you joked. "Safe sex is great sex as the Lil Wayne once wisely said."

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Lil Wayne, huh? I didn't know he moonlighted as a sex ed teacher." He reached into his bedside table, pulling out a foil packet and waving it in front of your face. "But don't worry, I'm always prepared."

"Jesus, that's a lot of condoms," you said, peering into his drawer and seeing way more condoms than you realistically thought one person would need. "You are a whore of massive proportions. Like, literally a menace to the female population."

"Oh, hush," he grinned, tearing open the packet and rolling the latex down over his length. "I bought them in bulk. You know, for... emergencies," He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, leaning back down to press kisses to your skin once more.

"Eugh," you giggled, your face scrunching up in disgust. "I genuinely do not want to know what a sex emergency is."

"Hey, a guy's gotta be prepared, okay?" He murmured against your neck, his breath warm. "Now, are you going to keep talking, or are you going to let me kiss you and calm you the hell down?"

"Yo, I am literally so calm," you rolled your eyes, lying through your teeth in the name of comedy and also not sounding like the total little loser virgin you were. "So calm and so chill. Literally have never been calmer or chiller in my life."

"Uh-huh," he hummed, clearly unconvinced as he pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, his fingers slowly trailing down your side, his touch gentle. "Because nothing says 'calm and chill' like sex jokes and rambling like you're on speed."

"Well, I can't help that I'm the funniest person alive," you argued, the realization dawning on you that you were naked, and he was naked, which meant there was only so many more sex jokes you could make before the sex actually commenced.

"You're not even in the top five funniest people I know," he teased, his fingers reaching your hip as he slowly pulled you closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"Oh, you got jokes, huh?" You grinned, nervously giggling when you felt his tip nudge at your entrance. "You better take that back if you wanna get laid tonight."

"I think I'll stick with my original statement," he said, his voice low and husky as he pressed forward, the head of his dick pushing into you slowly as he rubbed soothing circles on your hip. "You're just not funny enough to make the cut, sweetheart."

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing at the painful sensation. You grabbed his bicep for support, digging your nails into his arm. "Liar," you joked weakly, your chest heaving as you breathed through the intrusion.

"Shh, just breathe," he whispered against your neck, his voice low and soothing as he paused, letting you adjust to the foreign feeling. "You're doing so good, baby. You're taking it like a champ."

"Okay, don't call me champ while you're inside me," you grimaced, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted as you slowly adjusted to having him inside you.

"You okay, baby?" He asked softly, pushing the slightest bit further into you as he examined your reaction closely.

"Oh, yeah, just peachy," you said sarcastically. The pain was gradually starting to fade, making the whole thing more enjoyable by the second. Though, the pressure between your thighs was intense.

"Mhm, you're a real ray of sunshine," he chuckled softly, pushing the rest of the way into you, his body shuddering as he bottomed out. He was as deep as he could go, his hips flush against yours.

You gasped as he pressed all the way into you, your grip on his bicep tightening. "You're gonna look like you got mauled by a lion after this," you panted out, apologetic for the involuntary response.

"I'd wear that badge of honor proudly," he said, his voice thick with amusement as he slowly began to move, his hips rolling against yours in a gentle, soothing rhythm. "Now, shut up and let me make love to you."

"Don't say 'make love' either. That's so gross," you giggled softly, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he set a slow, pleasurable pace.

"Then what would you prefer I call it?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued his steady movements, the friction building between your bodies. "'Coitus'? 'Intercourse'? 'Fucking'?" He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust of his hips.

You moaned, your head falling back against the pillows and brows pinching in pleasure. Okay, you were definitely starting to see what all the fuss was about. "Let's just not refer to what's happening right now as anything at all."

"Mhm, I can work with that," he hummed, his pace picking up slightly as he felt you start to relax more, your body welcoming his thrusts. "Just focus on how good it feels, baby. Let me take care of you."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply as he continued to fuck you with a pace that demonstrated his love and devotion to you. He never thought he would be one for slow, romantic sex, but he didn't think he was into a lot of things before he met you. You had a way of making him discover things about himself he was completely clueless to.

As he kissed you, he slowly shifted his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that particularly sensitive spot inside you. He felt you tense up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips into the kiss, and he smiled against your mouth. "You like that, huh?"

"You're such an ass," you grinned, your fingers curling into his hair, back arching into him as his tip continued to hit that spongy spot inside you, the pressure low in your abdomen building.

"Maybe so, but you love it," he smirked against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as he increased his pace, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm. "And you're gonna come for me again, baby. Aren't you?"

Your mouth fell open in pleasure, your breath hot against his lips. "uh huh," you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut. He was a cocky motherfucker, but he was hot and he put up with your shit, so it was only fair you put up with his in return.

"That's my girl," he purred, one hand sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit as he continued his relentless pace. "Come on, baby. Let me feel you. I want to watch you fall apart for me."

You gasped sharply at the added stimulation, his name leaving your lips in a whine as you tensed around him, sent over the edge for the second time.

He groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, the sensation of you practically choking his dick sending him into his own release. "Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself into the condom with a low moan of your name.

Your walls pulsed around him as you slowly came down from your high, relaxing into the mattress. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your whole body on fire and coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

He collapsed on top of you with a satisfied hum, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone as he softened inside you. "I love you, you know that?"

"Good 'cause otherwise this would be pretty awkward," you laughed breathlessly, gently raking your nails over his scalp soothingly. "But, seriously, I love you too," you added quietly after a beat of silence.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed /