#he is beauty he is grace his gender smacks you in the face

[jangmi-latte]

3:00 𝐏𝐌 — 「 FAILURE NOCRIOL TUL- I GENERAL 」

nsfw. gender! neutral reader.

the title is gnoomish for: failure must come to the general

"Thorn Fairy, hear my wishes. You, who are full of grace and beauty, bless upon me the patience fitting for the blessing of the night..." you mumbled in ancient fae dialect, kneeling against the dais where the statue of the thorn fairy stood.

"I hereby declare, Mr. Lilia Vanrouge..."

"Thorn Fairy, hear my wishes. You, who are full of grace and beauty, bless upon me the strength to face and defend the blessing of the night..." You grit your teeth, tightening your grip on the quartz crystal. Your breathing deepened, your eyes shut tighter as your eyebrows furrowed.

"...the duty and power to guard and protect..."

"Thorn Fairy, hear my wishes. You, who are full of grace and beauty, bless upon me the essence of what it is to be part of the blessing of the night..." You can feel your heartbeat speed up. You can feel it throughout your body, you can feel it banging against your ear drums. The quartz crystal cracked against your grip, your nails digging into your palm.

"...annointed by Her Royal Majesty, Malleficia Draconia, and Her Royal Highness, Meleanor Draconia..."

"Thorn Fairy...hear my wishes...You..." came your chants that turned into forced whispers.

"...as the General of the Land of Briar."

The quarts crystal crumbled into dust, shattering completely before you threw it to the ground and screamed. Hands slamming against the floor as fists pounded and smacked against the dais. The echoes of the ceremony that commenced not even an hour ago rang and rang in your head.

You glared up at the statue, breath heaving while you continued to thrash the flowers and gifts that surrounded the statue. Your knees collapsed with your hair tarnished as you continued to stare up at the thorn fairy. Her stoned face, those lifeless eyes of hers angled up to mock your demise. Her lips smirked down, as far as the angle could provide, at you.

Such a pathetic fae, that you are.

"I hate you, Lilia Vanrouge."

You heard the heavy wooden doors close behind you; you paid no heed, not to the fae, not to the ruined dais of the savior of faes, and definitely not to how you looked.

"The hypocrisy you really possess baffles me," he said, heels clicking against the marble floor.

Your teeth nearly cracked. The stoned dias creaked under your fingernails as you slowly panned your head over his shoulder. There he was. That fucking General.

That title was supposed to be yours. You're supposed to be the General of the Land of Briar. You're supposed to be in charge of protecting the land. You worked hard to impress the royals—

Yet, why did this foresaken man get annointed instead of you?

"Stand up," he ordered.

He is not using his position on you. Not now, not ever. You were equals before he was chosen. Fuck the hierarchy.

"I said. Stand. Up," came another order, sterner than the one before. "If you're going to let out your anger, do it to me."

And that was your final breaking point. The cockiness, the arrogance, that glint in those sharp eyes of his. It's all mockery, it's all a game. Not an ounce of care that he defeated you. What he wants, you don't know. But, what you want, he holds.

You stood up and charged at him. Fists hitting wherever it landed just as long as it's on his body. He didn't flinch, he didn't resist. He just stared. It angered you more. Your vision was nothing but black.

"I hope the war takes you," you sneered, landing a punch on his face.

"I hope you fail the princess!" A punch landed on his shoulder.

"I. Am. Supposed. To be. The General!" You screamed and landed a blow to his chest, sending him to take a step back and puff out a breath.

No damage, still no damage. It wasn't enough. No physical outlet can diminish this desire for blood; for his blood on your hands. The restraint you need to hold on yourself was too much.

"And you truly believe you deserve this position?" he laughed. Lips outstretched in a menacing grin.

"How do you think Meleanor would react when she sees what you've done to this room?" He gestured to the dais behind you.

"You can't even control yourself."

And all you saw was red.

You shoved Lilia to the wall adjacent to you and slammed your lips on his dry ones. Neither of you are fools. The man held no hesitance nor did he fight you back. In fact, he relinquished in your misery.

He devoured your lips just as feverishly as you did. Hands pulling and gripping on his now messy hair while his own hands grasped on your clothes. His tongue savoured itself in your mouth, eliciting unwanted muffled moans before he easily flipped you two with you now against the wall.

"You're better off as a decoy," he growled against your lips, grabbing your thigh and hooking it around his waist. Your hands moved down to pull on his uniform, tugging the tormenting material that refused to show an ounce of his skin.

"You're better off dead," you snapped back when he moved down to bite, bite, on the side of your neck. Your nails dug on his nape as you continued to persistently rip through his clothes, only earning a small snap as the skin-tight material on his shoulder ripped just a bit.

He snickered against your neck. Tongue darting out to lay flat against the your throat and lick from your collarbone and up to your chin. Your breaths turned to pants as you're eye-to-eye with the General. His were half-lidded and yours were wide with desire — for what, you don't entirely know.

His slammed his lips again, this time, grabbing your other thigh and lifting you until they're wrapped around his waist. Pressing his clothed cock against your crotch as he groaned into your mouth. His free hand easily ripped your own uniform from the middle, exposing your unarmed chest him and the cold air of the room.

Your nipples immediately erected upon contact and he mercilessly pinched on one making you gasp and shudder while he sucked on your bottom lip. You were shaking now; both from anger and desire. He had too much power over you. You hated it. You loathed every single bit of it. You wished, you prayed, that he just loses it to whatever lurks in the forests and never return.

"Say it."

"Fuck you," you breathed, gritting your teeth after pulling away. Finally being able to snap the buckles of his chest armor and exposing the shirt beneath it. It hugged his body too well, too damn well. Tight against his bod, translucent as far as the mind can imagine. You want it gone, you want it all dispersed.

"You need to learn to respect your leaders." Lilia gripped pressed down your nipple, his thumb circling as he leered at your nudity. "Say it."

"Like hell you're my fucking leader," you snapped. "You're nothing. You're just a bastard of a fa—" you were cut off by your own throat. A loud moan escaped your lips when he bit on your nipples. His fangs barely teasing your sensitive tits. It was a hard bite. The other breast was being fondled and squeezed by his other hand. Your don't know where to lay your hands. You don't know what to grip.

You hate being inferior.

"Say it," he moaned as he sucked on your abused nip. You shivered and tilted your head against the wall, refusing to see his ministrations. You can feel how hard his cock was against your pelvis, grinding and pressing against your crotch. Your eyes settled on the statue of the thorn fairy behind him. Her eyes looked like they moved, now laughing at your state.

And unbeknownst to you, Lilia's hand shoved itself inside your pants, cupping your sex before rubbing his fingers on your groin. You arched your hips away as much as you can, only pressing your ass against the wall with no more room to move. Your mouth hang open as you looked down and stopped the whine that dared leave your throat.

"I'm giving you one last chance." There was a singing tone to his voice. He's smirking down at you while tauntingly pressing his fingers harder, rubbing slow circles as he can feel how wet you've become. It made you wither, it made you look away from his minacious gaze.

"Fuck..." you breathed out, tightening your legs around his waist as you thrusted your hips on his fingers. Closing your eyes and feeling the pleasure build up, the heat and coil to burn hotter inside you.

Before you were dropped to the ground with a yelp leaving your mouth. You snapped your head up, looking at him in surprise with furrowed eyebrows. He laughed while he shook his head then looked down at his slick-coated fingers and grinned. Shamelessly licking it off with a pop from his lips before leaning down and wiping it on your cheek.

"Clean up before the subordinates see you looking so..." His eyes trailed down your body with no word finishing his sentence. With a hand in his pocket he turned around and started walking away.

You were left baffled, annoyed, and weak. Your eyes followed his retreating figure and once his hand landed on the doorknob, before you could even control yourself, you blurted.

Just like he said.

You can't control yourself.

"G-General Vanrouge!"

You couldn't see it, but the smirk that danced on his face was more than enough to signify his victory. To have the dais crack when your back collided with the cold stone and your legs pulled apart and laid bare against his hips.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #diasomnia x reader #twisted wonderland smut #lilia vanrouge x reader smut #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst x reader smut #twst smut #general vanrouge #general lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst #twisted wonderland

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Healed (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @spaceslayer​​​

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Established relationship. Fluff. You hurt yourself at home and Morpheus tends to you. 

Warnings: injury, blood, physical intimacy.

Word Count: 1.4k

Sandman Masterlist

-------------------------

Sunday mornings were your favourite part of the week and this particular one was proving to be no exception.

Glass of orange juice in hand, you chatter away to Morpheus about some of your most pleasant childhood memories. He is seated next to you in your bed and looks devastatingly beautiful lounging against the numerous squishy pillows arranged behind him. A green coloured plate sits on your lap, scattered with golden toast crumbs and blobs of melted butter.

The conversation you are having has been influenced by the dreamscapes you had lived in last night. You had been overflowing with nostalgia when you had awoken and this had led to you opening the door to memories of your younger self.

It always brings Morpheus immense pleasure to know that his dream creations not only satisfy you but also inspire you to open up to him. Talking about yourself was not something that came naturally, and goodness knows, Morpheus could relate to that, therefore it felt wonderful to see you so uninhibited. The gratification your partner is experiencing from this is reflected in the smile gracing his ethereal features.

You stop talking when you notice his expression.

“What is it?” You are overcome with a rush of self-awareness.

Morpheus takes your free hand and squeezes. “Nothing. I am simply wondering whether the images conjured in my mind by your stories match what you were actually like as a child.”

You take a sip of your zesty drink. “I have some photographs, if you want to see them.”

He strokes tenderly over your cheekbone. “I would like that very much.”

You throw off the duvet and exit the bed.

A chest of drawers stands across the room. You walk to it and kneel down to access the bottom compartment. It’s the one that induces unstoppable reminiscing when you open it. Ticket stubs. Birthday cards. School reports. Photo albums. You reach for the collection you want to show Morpheus and go to push yourself up to standing again.

Unfortunately, the manoeuvre goes slight awry and you lose your balance, falling forwards and smacking the bridge of your nose on the edge of the unit.

The impact is painful and sends aftershocks down to the roots of your teeth and up across your forehead. 

“Oww,” you comment in an undertone, sitting back on your bottom.

Morpheus is by your side in an instant.

“Are you alright, my love?”

You are looking down, a little dazed. “Hmm?”

His cool hands cup your face and he gently encourages you to look at him. His countenance shifts from worry to something stronger.

“You’re bleeding.” His tone is level but you cannot deny the sense of panic that is also there.

You reach a finger up, grimacing as you make quick contact with the mark; it comes away smeared with red.

“Oh dear,” you murmur.

“Where are your healing supplies?” Morpheus asks. 

You can't help but giggle.

"What is it?"

“Healing supplies,” you laugh again. "How old are you?"

He quirks an eyebrow.

You frown. "Hang on, don't answer that."

You begin to feel an unpleasant trickle of liquid working its way over your skin. It is a sizeable amount; you position your hands under your chin to catch any drips.

"There’s some stuff in the kitchen. Top shelf of the big cupboard.” You eventually clarify.

“Stay here. I will return presently.”

He gets up with enviable fluidity and goes downstairs.

Sitting alone on the floor, it makes you feel a like a lost child so you get up and position yourself on the bed. The initial shock is beginning to fade and is leaving you with a pain that flares with every beat of your heart. The escape of blood is showing no signs of stopping just yet either. You tip your head back to try and slow its release.

Morpheus’ footsteps back to you are silent as ever meaning you only know he has returned when you hear him speak.

“I thought I told you to wait over there,” he chides softly.

He has paused in the doorway, a small bowl of water and the basket of first aid supplies in each hand.

You look down coyly. "I know. But at least this way we know I probably don't have concussion."

He purses his lips but does not argue the matter any further. 

You take the bowl from him once he has sat beside you. The astringent smell of diluted disinfectant whacks your nasal nerves.

Morpheus rolls up the sleeves of his long sleeved top, revealing his slender, pale forearms. He leans closer to inspect the injury properly.

“How deep is it?” You ask fearfully.

“It will not require stitches, only a dressing.”

His long fingers pull out a handful of fluffy white from the cotton wool packet. He dunks it in the water for a brief interval and squeezes the excess liquid out.

He puts his hand on your jaw bone to steady you.

"This will likely cause discomfort,” he warns.

He isn't wrong. You are wincing sharply as soon as he makes contact and your hands twitch with a desire to make him stop. Involuntary tears mist your vision as the disinfectant does its work.

“I apologise,” he whispers, ocean eyes full of sadness for the further pain he is inflicting.

“It's okay. Keep going."

He continues with a meticulousness that completely matches his character.

You flinch again and again, resorting to sitting on your hands to keep them from blocking him. You know this is necessary and do not want it to last any longer than it has to.

“I have nearly finished,” he reassures, as if he heard your thoughts.

“You promise?” Your voice cracks a bit from the sensory overload.

“I promise,” his reply is husky and soothing.

Less than thirty seconds later, Morpheus is dropping the soiled cotton in the nearby bin. He appraises the area again.

“It’s clotting now.” His tension lessens a fraction and he reaches for the basket once more. He pauses, caught between the pads of gauze, the rolls of bandages and the box of plasters.

Your focus drifts between his hands and the expression on his face. You have always found it fascinating to watch Morpheus work and even more so to watch him thinking.

In the end, he looks to you for guidance.

“I think a plaster will work,” you say with a little smile.

He nods his thanks and picks through the box to look for one of a suitable size.

After one final wipe to remove the new spills of blood, Morpheus applies the plaster to your face. He eases the edges flat against your skin and pulls away.

“How does that feel?” He holds your gaze unwaveringly.

“It’s unsurprisingly sore but otherwise comfortable.”

“Good, and you have not developed any dizziness?”

“No.”

He is visibly relieved. He then comes closer again and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. The simple act makes you feel so beloved that you could swoon right there. You are infinitely grateful to have him to take care of you both physically and emotionally.

“Thank you,” you say wistfully.

“Of course, my love.” The way he is looking at you is blush-inducing.

“What now?” You inquire.

He smiles mischievously. “As your healer, I would encourage you to stay in bed for the remainder of the morning and rest.”

You grin at his joke. “Oh, well in that case, I guess I should follow your advice.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. "Where will you be?"

You know that he is eventually going to be needed back in the Dreaming. It was something you were accustomed to but it never failed to bring on a hint of melancholy.

He smiles, reading between the lines of your question.

"Right beside you, if you'll have me. Someone has got to keep an eye on you, my fragile little human."

"Sounds good to me." You look over to the photo album that had been left on the floor. "Are you ready to be overwhelmed with the cuteness that is me as a toddler?"

“More than ready, my love.”

You laugh and bring your lips to his.

#the sandman #sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman 2022 #the sandman imagine #The Sandman Fanfic #the sandman fic #sandman one shot #one shot #fanfiction #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream #morpheus/dream x reader #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #the endless #the dreaming #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #tom sturridge #comfort #saskia writes sandman

[beanhusk]

my fave letterboxd reviews of maan (2011)

transcription under the cut <3

tara, 4 1/2 stars: I'm crying this was so GOOD they were so IDIOTIC catherine in the blue dress changed my LIFE I too want a stupid toy piano to plink on as I contemplate the beauty of women

sashi, 4 1/2 stars: some cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. david tennant and catherine tate killed me with ACTING.

julia, 4 1/2 stars: kill claudio.

ellie🦒, 5 stars: it's almost as if shakespeare wrote this play SPECIFICALLY for david and catherine because hoo boy nobody could have performed this the way they did

Nicole, 4 1/2 stars: the only thing that would have made this production better is if beatrice had had her way and benedick actually killed claudio

peej, 5 stars: josie rourke understands this play better than shakespeare did

Caitlin, 5 stars: The chaotic bisexual energy in this is ASTOUNDING

ffion, 4 stars: the chemistry between david tennant and catherine tate??? a more iconic comedy duo CANNOT be named

Katie🌈🎵, 4 1/2 stars: The queer energy coming off of this.... truly what Shakespeare would have wanted

teagan, 5 stars: i've never loved a performance choice more than i love david tennant as benedick delivering a soliloquy hungover, in jorts, and drinking through a star-shaped crazy straw! (also margaret pls marry me)

Jules, 4 stars: Benedick and Beatrice like lets be dumbe and silley together let's be stoopid in love and win the game of gender

🧚‍♀️, 4 1/2 stars: catherine tate wife

baz, 4 1/2 stars: catherine tate in the suit and the blue dress.......god i love women

galpalkirk, 4 stars: catherine tate... david tennant... i love you

maggie: wheres that tweet about being at a barbecue and saying like this whole thing smacks of gender....me watching this

tessaclare, 4 stars: susan_sontag_notes_on_camp.mp4

milo: far too much gender going on

Alex AL, 5 stars: Two Kinsey 5s making it work

tennant, 5 stars: david tennant and catherine tate being in a shakepseare play together cured my depression.

Emilie🤟🏼, 5 stars: the Only benedick and beatrice

vivi: this 100% takes place in the same universe as the mamma mia movies

Jean, 5 stars: OH the GENDER of it all.

Nikuuuu, 5 stars: U think u know romance??? U don't

bruschetta bitch, 4 1/2 stars: still waiting for david and catherine to adopt me

angelazira, 5 stars: oh, so Catherine tate is hot hot.

mila, 3 1/2 stars: benedick and beatrice bicons <3

felicia, 4 1/2 stars: Oh fuck maybe David Tennant is hot

mary, 4 stars: david tennant with white paint on his face, grinning like an idiot because he's in love

azie, 5 stars: Benedick: the orginal himbo

james, 4 stars: hand me a baseball bat im bashing claudios head in

Grace, 4 stars: this was so crazy it made me want to make out with someone but then i regained my senses

Sophie, 5 stars: Much Ado About Nothing (2011) my beloved

shira / nell, 5 stars: when shakespeare wrote much ado about nothing he did it specifically with david tennant and catherine tate in mind. no one else can give us such chaotic bisexual energies.

lemon, 4 1/2 stars: nothing to say just bi/bi ship

shira / nell, 5 stars: ngl i have no idea what's happening half the time but catherine tate hot and david tennant pretty so does it really matter

elliot, 4 stars: thank you catherine & david for your service to the lgbt community

#i've only just noticed nell's in this twice so true of them #editing the tags over a month later just to say i can't believe i left out this one- #'the only thing that stops this from becoming a tragedy is one single man believing a woman and that fact makes me want to eat my brain' #much ado about nothing #david tennant #catherine tate #tatennant #long post #? #bea.txt #// #ct #dt #ct/dt #maan #maan:bts #img #txt

[wyyvernn]

Merman!Kaeya x Reader

Featuring a gender!neutral reader

Felt like posting this here too~

____________________

There's nothing that bores Kaeya more than an empty schedule with little to nothing to do.

"So boring..."

His duties are cleared for the day, tasks completed to a flawless finish, the underwater city of Mondstadt has been scouted thoroughly on the border to ensure no invaders enter through and the mer knights are ready to retire back into their quarters.

There's just one thing, though. Kaeya can't return yet, he tells himself mentally as a shimmering glimmer of metal catches his eye on the surface of the ocean. The warm light of the setting sun helps the water reflect the shine of the unknown object floating above.

And as Kaeya goes to investigate with much caution, he comes to recognise it as an iron hook. As he swims up closer to get a better look, his hand reaches out, fingers locking around the small claw.

There's an opposing force that suddenly whips the water and before long he feels himself being dragged against a current. That is until the hook attached to a string breaks and he too with it. Eyes narrowed and brows knitted, he feels even more compelled to find the source of the commotion above the sea.

Blue iridescent scales glisten beneath light as the merman's tail flaps rapidly behind him, his arms working into a pace that allows him to drive through the water above. As he reaches the top, his head comes up out of the ocean, eyes peeking over the surface and his mind screaming at him to be alert.

Only, as his sight adjusts to the scene in front of him, he realises that there's not much of a threat at all.

Just a lonely human sitting on a rock with a fishing rod in hand.

"Curse the ocean, I almost had one! It felt like a mighty fish as well!"

They're grumbling and their fingers are fumbling around with a new fishing line to attach to their fishing rod. And archons, Kaeya is at a loss for words as the person lifts their head suddenly, their eyes piercing right through his own as he stills, too stunned to move.

They're beautiful. Ethereal, he thinks, and coming from a creature of mythic beauty himself, he finds the truth hard to be believe.

He's never seen a land folk so wonderful before, then again, he hasn't seen very many land folk in the past either. He rarely uses his legs; finding them too much of a bother to walk with like humans do on ground.

"You...what are you doing in the water? Don't you know these waters are for fishing only?"

Oh, if only they knew. The merman shook his head chuckling, creating little ripples around his body.

"Hm? I'm not sure which is more charming, your beauty or your sass," Kaeya thought aloud, and a smirk conjured on his lips when he caused a very apparent blush to appear on your cheeks.

Shaking your head in agitation, you watched him come up to shore, on the threshold of where the water meets the sand and you were shocked to find that his lower half didn't exactly look...human. In fact, from where anyone would expect legs, there was only an exceedingly long fish tail attached to a gorgeously toned and tan torso. Blue and cyan scales littered the entire appendage while the caudal fin spread like streams of sheer ribbon, smacking the surface of the water in excitement.

"Surprised? Most land folk are when they see someone like me..." he flashed a pearly grin, his wet navy strands clinging to the side of his face as he flapped his tail one more time over the water.

And you could only gawk at this living creature in awe and panic, your hands clenching around your fishing rod till your skin tightened over your knuckles.

"W-what are you...?!" You exclaimed, brows twisting in disbelief.

The unknown creature pouted, placing a hand to his chest in mock offence, using his other to prop himself up on the sand, "My, such an audacious human you are~ I ought to come over there and teach you some proper manners...oh well, I suppose that won't do much good, seeing as you've never witnessed a merman before..."

"A mer-merman?! But they don't exist..."

"Hm, then perhaps you're seeing things. Maybe I'm real, maybe I'm not. Maybe you're dreaming or maybe...you're not real," he sent a wry smile your way, his fingertips drumming his cheek in thought.

The thought flew right passed your head, still too engrossed in the fact that a real life merman has decided to intrude upon your outdoor activity.

You ignored his comment and gradually rose from your seat, taking into account that he seemed relaxed and that his smile was slowly increasing with each cautious step you took towards him.

The merman hummed in question, his brow cocking ever so slightly at your newfound bravery, "Oh? Come to find out the truth for yourself?"

You bent down nervously, your knees crashing into the sand below while your hands kept yourself from falling forward.

You could view him clearly now. Scales, otherworldly beauty, handsome face and all laying less than an arms length away.

How... how is this possible?

The thought kept playing in your mind and without realising, you must've been staring at him too long because as soon as he spoke, embarrassment washed over your face.

"It's rude to stare~"

And he may have been right, but no one has ever caught your eye like a mysterious merman before.

"Ah- oh...sorry... so, what's your name?"

Without warning, the creature's eye lit up and his hand reached forth to snatch your own, bringing the back of it to his mouth.

"Kaeya, Kaeya Alberich. One of the captains of the Mer Knights of Favonius in the underwater city of Mondstadt," he introduced, his lips tilting up a tad before he planted a kiss to your knuckles.

You blushed deeply and Kaeya could've sworn it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

"Uhh, Y/n. Just Y/n."

Kaeya repeated your name, sounding it, whispering it gently on his tongue, savouring it before slowly another flirtatious smile graced his lips.

"A lovely name indeed~" he uttered lowly, his caudal fin clapping the water behind him gleefully as you thanked him gently.

Silence touched the air abrubtly and you didn't take notice that you were staring at him again, this time at his tail. The colours reflected in your eyes like diamonds and crystals, deep navy blues and shining whites like glitter beneath the setting sun's rays.

"You can touch it if you'd like," he said flopping on his back. His lonely eye twinkled in mischief but beneath that, a sense of sincerity lay hidden.

You reached out, appreciative of the fact that he didn't seem to jerk away. Your palm came in contact with the base of the tail first, the scales smooth as you felt down one side, and rough as you moved your digits against the other.

"Beautiful," you spoke, voice barely above a whisper. Kaeya seemed to like that, shuffling his tail closer.

As you were about to touch one of his fins, a sharp breath drew your hands back in surprise. In the next second, the tail seemed to dissipate into tiny blue shards and in their place lay a pair of toned legs instead.

You jerked, landing back on your arms in shock, "What just happened?! D-Did I do that?!"

Immediately, you registered that Kaeya no longer wore the appearance of a merman, but rather he was now a full adult human man, which only meant one thing...

"No, no. I usually regain my legs when I'm out of water for awhile...uh? Is there a reason why you're not looking at me, sweetheart? Am I not beautiful anymore...?" He pouted, inching closer on the wet sand.

"You're not...you...you're naked, Kaeya..."

The merman shot his gaze between his legs and sure enough, he finally understood why you were flushing profusely.

Kaeya felt a crooked smirk reach his mouth and he moved across to your body, his lips grazing your ear a little and his voice only a seductive whisper.

"You know...I don't mind if you touch me down there too~"

That earned him a whack to his face.

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #merman!kaeya #genshin impact #mihoyo #genshin impact kaeya

[moral-turpitudes]

College Headcanons: Modern!Peaky Blinders Edition

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: This came to me in a dream. Enjoy. 

Thomas Shelby:

Double Major: Political Science and Business Management (bc he likes to work himself to death) Minor: Military Sciences/ROTC

Likes debating and trying to outsmart the professor.

Often seen on campus with bloody knuckles from rocking someone’s jaw.

Would 100% punch a motherfucker for being mean to someone he cares about.

Doesn’t need to be in a fraternity to be known around campus, just don’t mess with him and you’ll be fine.

All the girls whisper as he walks by but he don’t give a fuck cuz he has to go to his lectures.

He’s on time for every class and pulls out his pocket watch if the professor is more than 5 minutes late. If the professor can’t bother showing up then he dips out.

Almost got suspended for one too many fist fights.

Has a “thing” for the barista at the campus Starbucks. He learned after frequent visits, that her name was Grace and that she liked black coffee just like him.

Mysterious and moody af. No one knows if they’ve ever seen him smile, except when chatting up Grace.

Tries his best to study, but ends up getting dragged into his siblings shenanigans or into his head about the family business.

Keeps to himself for the most part, except for having a few close friends.

Hates technology so he uses a typewriter and prefers receiving letters/mail over emails.

Can’t figure out how to use Grace the baristas phone when typing in his number and tells her to write it down instead.

Often tells her to meet him after her shift. 😏

Professors hate him because of his reliance on paper. Totes not eco-friendly but he doesn’t care. Tommy always gets his way.

Grace always gives him a cookie for free cuz she knows he forgets to eat.

Always seen smoking or sneaking drinks of whiskey in a flask, even at 7am lectures.

Binge drinks on weekends with his bros, and drunk calls barista Grace when he has maybe 3 working brain cells left for the night. On other weekends when he’s coherent, he meets with Polly and tries to discuss business plans since their dad dipped out like a bitch.

To make matters worse, after dating for a while, Grace just leaves him. He thinks his aunt Polly may have been too hard on her, but he didn’t know until later that she lied when she said she didn’t know about the business. But barista bitch knew everything, and was gonna expose them to her higher-ups in the criminal justice department before long.

Arthur Shelby:

Major: Agriculture Minor: Military Science/ROTC

Graduated just barely.

Ended up in some trouble with his peeps in the military science department, probs for cussing someone out.

Angry, loud, and emotional af.

Loved drinking with John and his frat boy friends.

No one messed with him if they valued their life.

Started one too many fights and got suspended for reals. Almost beat a man to death but we don’t talk about that.

He gets stressed really easily so in his free time he draws horses.

When he gets real mad he takes it to the campus boxing ring and punches to his hearts content.

On his way back to his dorm one night he saw a girl who was in his agriculture class. She was cute and also in a “Christian” ministry group on campus. He decided to chat her up when she was preaching, just to see what it was about.

They later dated but then she cheated around with a fellow churchy man and just went off the rails. When he found out it wasn’t pretty.

Her friends and pastor most likely shamed her cuz she be ✨sinning✨. Therefore not helping her mental state.

Her name was Linda. Never trust a Linda.

Everyone tried to console Arthur but only boxing and drinking at Johns frat house did the trick.

Tommy often had to run to his dorm in the middle of the night to talk him out his mental breakdowns. College is hard.

In the end, he was glad he did agriculture even if his crazy ex would constantly stare at him during lectures, probably plotting his demise.

Some days he’d take out his frustrations by chopping wood and helping out on the farm where he worked and studied most days.

But you bet your ass fuckin’ Linda showed up to his dorm one time though with a gun and tried to shoot him, but she didn’t know his brothers and aunt were there too. Polly may have shot her in the arm tho. But when the campus PD showed up shit really went down.

We don’t know where Linda is now, but that’s probs for the best.

John Shelby:

Major: Music (idk I felt like he’s a musical boi) Minor: Military Science/ROTC

He’s a frat boy through and through. He drops it low on the dance floor and is known to dive onto beer pong tables.

Constantly going to parties and hooking up with sorority girls, that is until he meets a girl named Esme who’d been dragged to the party by her friends.

Suddenly he ain’t no hoe no more, he’s head over boots in love with her and she loves him too.

They be sneaking around in various buildings, often having to make a run for it to escape security.

He’d play her songs after hard training days with his military buds cuz it helps him calm down.

He’s not as violent as his older brothers, but he’ll fuck a person up if needed.

His fraternity is the second most important thing to him besides his girl. He loves the energy of the fraternity, the partying, and acting a whole fool with his friends, but Esme has him whipped.

His studies are struggling though cuz he loves to get turnt. He hates the studying aspect of college.

Always getting his brothers into trouble.

Snorts coke off Esme’s tits on occasion at the frat parties. It’s a wild time.

Has the mouth of a sailor but a heart of gold.

Talks of kids with Esme after dating for a year. Can’t afford a ring yet tho, but their bud Jeremiah marries them anyway on a whim.

After Arthur and the Grace fiasco ensues, he drops out of college because Esme falls pregnant. In the end, she ends up getting the chickens and wild cottage!core house she’d always wanted. They both decide to raise their kids there, living their best lives until Tommy drags them into more family matters later on.

Ada Shelby:

Major: English Minor: Gender & Women’s Studies

Always seen in the most stylish clothes.

She’s quiet most times but can be very knowledgeable on various subjects.

She’s constantly going off on her older brothers and trying to smack some sense into them.

Feels like something is off with the barista Tommy’s been seeing, but it’s not her problem.

Can 100% find her chilling in the back of Starbucks reading old novels or writing literature reviews.

When she’s not there, she’s holed up in the library where she works part time, studying and practicing for debates.

10/10 would fuck in the library cuz she knows all the best secret places to go to. 😏

Organizes meetings with different campus associations and demands equality for students.

Spends her free time surfing the net for clothes or keeping an eye out for a potential new bae.

Is probably the best at studying. She earns the best grades let’s be honest.

Will not hesitate to call a bitch out. She may not throw hands but she’ll throw words that can cut you like a knife.

Works for the campus paper, spilling all the tea on campus life. Her brothers often reluctantly agree to be her mock interview subjects for a range of assignments.

She breaks necks when walking around campus, everyone moves out of their way for her.

She’s a bad bitch.

Finn Shelby:

Major: Photography Minor: English

He hates how violent his brothers are but would 10/10 back them up if needed.

Often asks Ada for advice on studying and girls.

Doesn’t like the frat boy scene like John, but goes to the parties anyways with his best friends Isiah and Bonnie.

He’s a freshman and you can tell. He still has a glimmer of life in his eyes and a pep in his step as he walks around campus.

When he’s not taking pictures for class, he’s taking pictures of his girlfriend.

She’s his muse even when doing the simplest of things like sitting in a chair or reading one of his English books.

Each week he’d surprise her with a picture he took when she wasn’t looking, telling her how beautiful she is.

He may not look strong, but after many nights at the boxing ring with Arthur, he knew how to throw a punch.

He almost flunked his studies a couple times, getting too caught up in partying or being with his girl, but Ada and his Aunt Polly set him straight.

Voted by his family as most likely to not get arrested or suspended from college.

He’d have deep conversations with his friends, often confusing them because it was just that deep.

In his spare time he’d go boxing with Arthur or would try to help Tommy with his essays, but Tommy would get frustrated and tell him to fuck off within the first 10 minutes.

Polly Gray:

Profession: Business Management Professor Side Job: Managing the blinder business with Tommy

When she’s not teaching class, she’s managing the blinder business that was left to her and Tommy to tackle. This also means covering up any suspicions that arise on campus. She has her hands full.

She’s Tommy’s only shred of common sense some days when he gets too stressed out from his 10,000 majors and minors, or wants to plan to overthrow the university.

Will not hesitate to slap someone, preferably her unruly nephews.

Anyone can lie to her but the truth always falls through the cracks, and when she finds out, you’d pray you faced the devil instead.

In her spare time she reads tea leaves and prays for the corrupt souls of her son and his cousins. She really just begs to god that they can come together for once to get the business in line, but even that may be asking too much.

Knows a snake when she sees one. *cough* *cough* Grace the barista.

She’s the first one to tell someone I told ya so, especially her students when they flunk her tests because they decided to get drunk the night before.

When she’s not yelling at her nephews or grading papers, she can be seen at the local bar chatting up coworkers and old flames, hoping to find “the one” eventually. She ends up having a “thing” for the quirky Philosophy professor though. He’s kind of shady cuz she finds out he’s in a similar business on the side, but it only makes her like him more. She craves the danger.

They later end up in a whirlwind romance similar to John and Esme, and everyone loves that for them.

She can also be seen with her head in her hands when trying to persuade Tommy to use technology.

“What is copy and paste Pol? Can’t I just write it down? What’s up with all these gadgets aye?”

“If you want your hand to fall off and to make me lose my mind, then yes, write it down. Grading is bloody hard enough as it is, let alone grading your papers. You’re just like your father ya know, always doing things the hard way.”

Tells Gina off when she gets the chance just like she did Grace. She didn’t shoot her like Linda though, she just hurt some feelings.

May have aided in Grace’s “sudden” departure…maybe…just a little bit.

Secretly ships Tommy with a woman named Lizzie who had been her assistant at her office. She knew she could trust her more, at least.

Despite her harshness, she’s just trying to keep her family from completely fucking up their lives.

Michael Gray:

Major: Accounting Minor: Business Management

Like Tommy, he doesn’t get the hype of fraternities so he just hangs out with his cousins or his small circle of friends, they aren’t saints though.

His mom, Polly is his business management professor. She always calls on him and gives him a hard time when he spaces out in class.

Is often seen around campus with a few friends or his girlfriend Gina who he met in business class. They’re sickening and it was like a whirlwind romance tbh.

He usually finds himself cleaning up his cousin’s messes when it comes to fighting, but if he has to throw some punches he will.

He’s not as impulsive when it comes to matters of business, but where matters of the heart are concerned that’s another story.

When the blinders and Polly were all at her house for dinner one night he announced he was going to marry Gina. Arthur and John laughed and Tommy smirked slightly, still butt-hurt after his Grace left him for little-to-no reason. Ada grinned and bared the news whilst Polly nearly smacked him on the head.

People didn’t dare mess with him, and that went for all his cousins as well.

He spent a majority of his days in class crunching numbers, and most his nights out with the boys getting drunk or fuckin’ with Gina.

Because his mom held him accountable, his grades rivaled Ada’s causing them to get into some friendly competition at times.

He’s cunning like Tommy though. He got into many a screaming match with the older blinder after trying to take over his position in the family business. It ended in some black eyes and Polly smacking both of them with her newspaper. He knew better than to mess with the devil himself.

Despite the tensions between the cousins at times, he’s always the one they go to when they can’t figure out their math homework, and he’d always have to meet one of them in the library at 3 am to smuggle in some cocaine and a drink to keep them studying.

#katies headcanons #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #michael gray #peaky blinders headcanons #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders #can y’all tell I’m obsessed with the dark academia aesthetic lately?

[helaintoloki]

Queen of Disaster

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader who is both wholesome and a disaster child

warnings: Bucky is grumpy but not necessarily mean, some stray swear words, allusions to angst, reader is a little chaotic but in a wholesome way. reader is of age but still younger than Bucky (bc the dude is like 100)

notes: this is inspired partly by my own personality and partly by the Lana del Rey song with the same title). I might make this a mini series of one shots and pieces that build onto this relationship but we shall see

summary: the youngest after Peter and the newest member of the team, y/n is still learning to hold her own amongst her fellow teammates. While the Avengers are patient and understanding of the lovable though somewhat disorderly girl, Bucky Barnes is not so easily convinced

    Bucky Barnes does not like you.

   You’re immature, irresponsible, unreliable, and the youngest member on the team after the bug kid. You can’t take anything seriously because serious matters make you uncomfortable, and you’re timing is so awful that every quip and one liner makes his skin crawl with discomfort. But hey, despite all of your defects you get the job done and, to Bucky’s dismay, get to keep your position on the team.

   Maybe if you weren’t so goddamn smiley all the time and could take things seriously just once instead of immediately retreating to the rainbow colored, glitter filled, lollipop scented safety of that thing you call a brain inside your head he could possibly entertain the idea of at least being acquaintances. Instead he often feels like your babysitter, somehow always having you forced on him during missions and in turn having to clean up the chaos you leave behind in your wake. Always eager to please- the equivalent of a teacher’s pet if your teacher was Steve Rogers or Tony Stark- you will stand over the body of the newly deceased Hydra soldier and turn to Bucky with a smile on your face and two thumbs up held in his direction. His stoic gaze shows that he could care less about your latest endeavor, and your smile earns a moment’s falter when his broad shoulder harshly knocks against your own as he moves on to the next room. You’ll get him some other time.

    If you had only been a friend of Peter’s or another one of Stark’s young prodigies, maybe Bucky would have been able to at least tolerate you and your childish behavior. After all, Bucky dealt with big babies- and little ones - around the tower all the time. Tony Stark, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, hell, even Steve at times. Bucky Barnes could handle man babies. It was girl babies that set him off.

   In the 40’s women had either been quiet and reserved or loud and lively, and James Buchanan Barnes had never minded either. As the Winter Soldier he had learned that women could be cold and calloused, unfeeling and inhumane. As an Avenger, Bucky had learned that women could be both strong and caring, gallant and graceful, smart and calculating. But with you...

   With you Bucky learned that it was possible for a woman to down a whole tub of ice cream by herself without sharing. He learned that the modern day woman did not give two shits about what men thought of the opposite gender. He learned that a knife plunged deep into your thigh only earned your attacker an offended gasp, but the breaking of a freshly done nail could bring you straight to tears if the elements were aligned just right. He observed how one minute you could be as agile as a cat on the field one moment only to trip over your own two feet the next. He learned you did not do well under pressure; when running out of bullets to attack your enemies, rather than simply reload your gun your first instinct told you to chuck the weapon as hard as you could at your attacker, which somehow succeeded in knocking the man out cold. Beginner’s luck, Bucky had thought begrudgingly the moment he saw it happen.

   You were a beautiful swan one moment and a bumbling baby the next, and Bucky, too damn tired and old, could never keep up with you. So he gave up trying and instead did his best to keep as far away from you as possible, which, much to your credit, was a lot harder than it should have been. Example number one: your presence right now at two in the morning when your ass should be in bed sleeping instead of disturbing his peaceful binge of I Love Lucy over his bowl of ice cream.

  “Hi Barnes,” you chirp, oblivious to just how much you irk the man before you as you rummage through the cabinets for your hidden stash of hot Cheetos.

   “Hmph,” he grunts in response and shoves a spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into his mouth.

   “Ooo, I love this show!” You exclaim, plopping down right next to the super soldier and obnoxiously opening your chips. The harsh crinkling of the bag has Bucky’s shoulders rising all the way to his ears and he feels compelled to shush you before you wake the whole compound with your unpalatable snacking.

   “How do you know about I Love Lucy? Aren’t you like twelve?” Bucky retorts in a crotchety tone.

   “First of all, rude,” you counter. “Second of all, I used to watch reruns of this on channel seven all the time with my mom when I was a kid.” Then, to validate your 50’s sitcom knowledge, you inhale deeply before loudly shouting along with Ricky Ricardo, “‘Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splainin to do!’”

   Bucky jolts at the volume of your voice, spoon clattering harshly against his bowl at the disturbance. “Jesus Christ! Do you have an off button or something?”

   “Only on Tuesday’s,” you reply nonchalantly, and Bucky, too exhausted to ask, only rolls his eyes and wishes for the light fixture hanging above him to come down on his noggin.

   It takes five minutes for you to fall asleep, and Bucky only notices because of the sea of droll that dribbles down the corner of your lips and onto his shirt. He shudders in disgust. Baby droll from the team baby. How you have the whole team wrapped around your cheeto dust stained finger, he will never know.

   He could just leave you there with the tv on and let you waddle yourself back to your own room when your body’s clock decides it’s time to retreat to your hole. But the gentleman inside of Bucky is about ready to smack him upside the head for his bad manners, so the soldier begrudgingly scoops your sleeping form into his arm and marches towards your bedroom.

   “You’re insufferable,” Bucky grumbles, almost droping you when you have the audacity to nuzzle closer to his chest in your sleep. You really are a big baby.

   As expected, your room is a disaster. Stray clothes, shoes, and mundane objects litter the floor and getting to your bed is like tip toeing through a booby trapped Hydra base. One wrong move and Bucky will trip over the stray bra on the ground and eat shit. How can anyone live like this? He assumes this is probably what your brain looks like on the inside too.

   “There you go brat,” Bucky grumbles as he not only lies you in bed but tucks you in, going as far as to tuck the blankets tightly around you and rest the raggedy teddy bear at the foot of your bed next to you instead, unknowingly falling into your unintentional trap of slowly but surely beginning to wrap around your finger.

   He has to admit, you’re much nicer when you’re still and quiet, calmed by the melatonin coursing naturally through your system. You’re kind of pretty too, if he stares long enough at your face and looks at you as if you were a stranger. Your eyelashes flutter as you dream, hair falling around your head like a little halo, parted lips- Bucky recoils, forcing himself to stop over analyzing your facial features while you sleep because that’s weird and you’re like, ten.

   Bucky Barnes does not like you.

   But as he flicks on the Iron Man nightlight by your bedside (installed by Tony himself because he too knows just how scary the dark can be once you become an Avenger) and tip toes out of your room, Bucky realizes he doesn’t completely dislike you.

    And that is enough for him.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #avenger!reader #bucky barnes x avengers!reader #disaster!reader #marvel #mcu #queen of disaster

[rockleethembo]

Rock Lee x reader modern AU chapter 1

I'm hoping to finish this in a reasonable amount of time.

Warnings: violence

There will eventually be a smut scene but it will be skippable

Onto the chapter

You sigh as you finish your stretching for the night. 'Time to go home' you think to yourself, wiping the sweat from your brow and heading to the dressing room to shower and change before you head home. Glancing out the window you regretfully see that it's already night. 

The neighborhood your dance studio is in isn't the greatest. It's a popular location for street dancing and fighting. You often wondered why a ballet studio was in such a bad neighborhood. Almost like some trope from a book to use a weird twist of fate for you to fall in love. 

Your wallet is empty, having spent all your allowance on new ballet shoes, so you wouldn't be getting a cab home tonight. 'I'll just have to make it a quick walk to the bus stop home'.

You change into your sweats and tshirt, sliding your aching feet into tennis shoes and leave the dance studio, saying farewell to your teacher on your way out. The night air is cool as you step out into the night. A breeze blows through your wet hair and sends a shiver through your body. You really wish you'd brought a jacket. You glance inside the martial arts studio next door and see a boy with a bowl cut in green sweats doing push-ups alone. You see him every night, he's always the last to leave the studio much to how you're always the last of your peers to leave. You smile as you continue on your walk, maybe one day you'd have the courage to walk in and talk to him. But for now you're just a secret admirer from next door. 

A few minutes of walking later and the bus stop is in view. However, much to your dismay you see a squad of familiar faces. One of which being your ex boyfriend who's a well known street fighter and leader of his own little squad. Your breakup wasn't pretty and you'd heard he was angry and looking for you. You immediately turn around and start walking back to the dance studio, hoping you could call your dad and see if he'll pick you up on his way home from work instead, but your luck's run out and they start tailing you.

 A brief glance over your shoulder and you see they're quickly catching up so you bolt back towards the studio where you'll be safe. Their footsteps pick up as you take off, your heart races, and tears start to well up in your eyes. You run as fast as your feet can carry you and you quickly approach where you just came from.  You glance back again and when you do you run smack into a solid mass that catches you and prevents you both from falling. 

Looking up you see the martial arts boy with a surprised look on his face that turns serious the moment he notices the tears in your eyes. The footsteps catch up to you and the boy seems to notice the situation. He steps between you and your ex.

"I do not know what is going on here but it doesn't look good. I advise you to leave this (your gender) here alone," The boy speaks up. You blush behind the tall boy as he stands up for you. 

"What are you going to do if I don't?" Your cocky ex mocks. 

"I do not wish to resort to violence but I will if I have to." The boy takes a fighting stance. Your ex gives a cocks a smirk. 

"Well I do!" He lunges forward. The boy defending you moves so fast it's hard to keep up with him. He has your ex knocked out on the ground in less than a minute. Your ex's crew takes it upon themselves to join the fight. You worry for the boy as he's severely outnumbered but that worry doesn't last long 

"I advise you give up." The boy throws a well timed kick and knocks one of the three to the ground with what you presume to be a cracked rib. The other two throw some punches. The boy blocks all but one that lands on his stomach. He winces but incredibly doesn't buckle as he throws one of the men into the ground and kicks the other straight in the face. Bruised and mildly bloody the crew grabs their knocked out leader and takes off. 

The boy turns back to you with a smile on his face.

"Are you alright?" He asks, stepping closer and looking you up and down as if to make sure you remained uninjured. 

"I am thank you," you glance where he got kicked, "what about you?" 

The boy notices your concern and grins. 

"I will be just fine, thank you! What is a pretty (your gender) doing out by themselves this late at night?" He asks so energetically that it makes you blush and smile. 

"I was just heading home from ballet. I actually attend classes there." You point towards the dance studio right next door.  

"Ballet? Amazing! You must be so graceful and skilled. I practice martial arts next door,"  he cheered. Suddenly it seemed to dawn on you both that you don't know each other's names.

"So, what's the name of the handsome devil who saved me?" You flirted with the lanky boy. His cheeks flushed to his ears. 

"I'm Rock Lee," he paused to collect himself, "and what is your name?" 

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you."

"What a lovely name! Can I walk you home (y/n)?" He asked. Your stomach interrupts the moment with a growl.

"Yes, but only if we can get dinner on the way." 

You both go to your favorite taco truck on your way home.

"This route seems awful familiar  to me (y/n)," Lee says.  He thinks for a moment. 

"This is also my way home, though I usually take a short cut," he concludes. You giggle. 

"Maybe we're neighbors who've never seen each other," you laugh.  That would be awfully coincidental, almost like this was a fanfiction and the author needed a reason for them to see each other more. 

Sure enough you and Rock Lee are neighbors. You're standing outside your apartment with Lee and he looks dumbfounded. 

"How have I lived next to a beautiful (your gender) for years and never noticed!" Lee yells. He reminds you of a golden retriever not you see on tiktok. 

'How have I been living next door to the cute martial arts boy and not noticed?' you thought to yourself, remembering the times you've gushed to your dad about Lee. 

"Want to come in?" You ask without really thinking. 

#rock lee #fanfic #rock lee fanfic #rock lee x reader #rock lee x you #modern au #rock lee modern au #naruto #naruto modern au #rock lee naruto

[culturenosh]

GOD IS TRANS

All my friends keep asking me ‘Are you happy?’/ Happy as a girl can be! Are you happy?

In 2017, I wrote for The Singles Jukebox that SOPHIE’s single “It’s Okay to Cry” was proudly, explicitly, beautifully artificial, and that its hyperreal video in which the artist danced topless in a synthetic rainstorm felt something like paradise. I said that its unreality didn’t matter to my emotional response. I agree with most of what I wrote, but I take back the last part. The unreality was, in fact, central to how SOPHIE’s work makes me feel.

SOPHIE’s breakout single, “Bipp,” posits, “I can make you feel better — if you want to.” Accompanying that melody, low bass tones rev and ripple, while high sounds bubble and bounce; there’s a feeling of elastic grace in its movement, like each sound is a molecule colliding into others. The adjectives critics reached for when it was released always carried that element of physicality. Patric Fallon writing for Pitchfork called it “sticky” and “rubbery”; Boomkat’s product description of the vinyl single compared it to “sugar-glazed silicon”; Killian Fox for the Guardian described the song in 2016 as “an elasticated squelching noise with a helium vocal on top.”

These themes pop up again and again in the writing around SOPHIE’s work. It’s rubbery, it’s sticky-sweet, it’s elastic, it’s mechanical, it revs, it screeches, it squeals. SOPHIE’s contemporaries, like Arca or A.G. Cook, might create music that feels alien or dreamy; SOPHIE’s music always felt like it referenced the physical world, but not in a way that you would expect music to do. SOPHIE would reference not physical instruments, but physical objects and materials. 

This specific quality was integral to the work, and it was intentional. SOPHIE sculpted these sounds out of waveforms, instead of relying on samples. In an archived 2014 interview with Elektronauts, the artist talks about sound design as an exercise in defamiliarization: “The language of electronic music shouldn’t still be referencing obsolete instruments like kick drum or clap. No one’s kicking or clapping. They don’t have to!… You can just take a bassline made out of elastic and try it in metal.” In a video interview in 2018 with the German outlet Arte Tracks, the artist discusses making “sounds which cartoonize and exaggerate naturally occurring or organic sounds and phenomena, and materials that don’t exist at the moment.” One of the common adjectives used to describe SOPHIE’s work is “sculptural,” which carries the risk of casting the music as purely abstract; but it also demonstrates that SOPHIE’s sound art was also visual and tactile, while SOPHIE’s physical and visual work was purely conceived as a supplement to and a vehicle for the songs. In that same Arte Tracks interview, SOPHIE discusses the release of “It’s Okay to Cry” and the choice to show SOPHIE’s face and body for the first time in its video. Responding to the framing that this reveal was “brave,” the artist says that the intention wasn’t to create media attention by coming out, but to “use my body more as a material, as something I could express through and not fight against.”

SOPHIE married that philosophical framework to an artistic practice that prioritized movement and pleasure. The currents of kink and sexuality were central to the work — the 2014 single “Hard” opens with the lines “latex gloves, smack so hard/ PVC, I get so hard,” and in the Elektronauts interview the artist talks about synthesizing sounds for “latex, balloons, bubbles, metal, plastic, elastic,” physical materials that share a modern provenance and a fetishistic quality. On “Ponyboy,” from the artist’s 2018 studio album Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides, distorted vocals bellow “Spit on my face/ Put the pony in his place.” But SOPHIE didn’t invoke sex as an end unto itself; instead, sex was an experience that could defamiliarize the omnipresent language of gender. The bridge of “Ponyboy” goes “he is just a pony/ she is just a pony/ they is just a pony/ pony, pony boy.” “Pony Whip,” from the 2019 remix album of Oil, repeats the teasing line “so I treat him like a boy/ so I treat him like a boy/ so I treat him like a pony boy” until the meaning of the phrase bleeds out entirely. The experience of physical pleasure in SOPHIE’s work has a psychedelic dimension, like activating the body allows us to move beyond the definitions that are assigned to it; like the body itself is something we continually create.

This clearly puts SOPHIE’s work in the lineage of pop and disco, genres which use physical pleasure as a means for spiritual transcendence. In a 2017 Teen Vogue interview, SOPHIE says, “A lot of the stuff I’ve done takes the attitude of disco but tries to bring the sound world forward… I’m trying to imagine what music that’s positive, liberating, weird, dark, and real could be in the present day.” In a 2015 Rolling Stone interview with A.G. Cook, SOPHIE says, “I think all pop music should be about who can make the loudest, brightest thing. That, to me, is an interesting challenge, musically and artistically. And I think it’s a very valid challenge — just as valid as who can be the most raw emotionally. I don’t know why that is prioritized by a lot of people as something more valuable.” 

Disco and pop music — electronic music in general — has long been negatively associated with artificiality, as if artificiality is in and of itself less sincere or authentic. SOPHIE’s music is proudly, directly, purposefully artificial; it is also proudly, directly, purposefully emotive. In SOPHIE’s hands, synthesized sensations and materials became the building blocks of the best dance music you ever heard. The textures of real life — car engines, rubber tires, plastic containers, metal bars — are mirrored back at us in strange, sexy new shapes.

I say that SOPHIE’s music is trans, and this is what I mean. Jessica Dunn Rovinelli’s beautiful piece on SOPHIE’s work in the Guardian explains that “SOPHIE molded raw sound to make hyperreal versions of recognizable forms…. Transgender people in particular exist through self-processing: we make a body that we can live in and a world where that body can feel safe.” Sasha Geffen tweeted that “SOPHIE’s music isn’t just ‘about’ transness, its idiom is inherently trans. It traces the process of surfacing interiority.” Transitioning is a kind of inside-out alchemy — I feel a certain way, I learn to understand it, I begin to orient my life in a way that allows me to express it, other people begin to treat me differently. From the interior work comes the exterior effects; from reorientation, new pleasure and new life. Even if the change is synthetic, in the sense that I have to make it myself with chemical supplements or medical treatments or changes in clothing or requests to change the way I’m referred to, it doesn’t mean that its effects reverberate any less.

One of my favorite SOPHIE songs goes “I don’t need anyone to be who I want to be.” You can read this as a statement of satisfied self-sufficiency, like “I can be who I want to be all by myself,” but I prefer to read it like a prognosis: “I don’t need anyone else to demonstrate how to I want to exist.” To create your own future means leaving behind those who want to dictate that future, who demand control over the terms on which you live. In SOPHIE’s alchemical work, familiar sounds become new shapes, so that old structures — the pop song, the chorus, the melody, sound itself — become vehicles for innovation. SOPHIE made that process of innovation sound like the sexiest, most joyful thing in the whole world, so much so that you wonder why anyone would settle for the old and familiar.

Photo cred @corporatebigwig

#SOPHIE

[h4knyeon]

special ingredient | minhyuk (monsta x)

lee minhyuk x gender neutral reader

genre: girl idk… smut? crack? fluff? slight yandere theme ish maybe

word count: 1.3k

summary: minhyuk is so caring, volunteering to take care of you while your sick. he even makes you some hot cocoa, but with his own special recipe. 

warnings: yandere ish kinda not really maybe… and this is filthy

minhyuk always took care of you, even before you began to feel more for him. he was setting up camp at your house, ready to be at your beck and call until you were feeling completely better. you were laying in your bed feeling almost completely miserable, but minhyuk being there made it a little better. you couldn’t help but smile to yourself thinking about him, the way he cared for you selflessly and took time out of his schedule to be there for you. the way he grinned down at you and pushed the hair out of your face, admiring your beauty in the dim light of your bedroom.

you two had still yet to become an official couple, but there was something between you and you both knew it. and if minhyuk serving you like royalty wasn’t enough to signal his feelings for you, then the pet names he called you would be, or maybe even the way he would stare at your lips and zone out when you were together. minhyuk was madly in love with you, so when he offered to stay with you until you felt better, he insisted that it was his pleasure.

he was sitting on the edge of your bed, fluffing your pillows and arranging them so that you would be as comfortable as possible. 

“minhyuk, i can’t believe you’re doing this,” you finally spoke, your voice raspy as it came out. 

“why can’t you believe it?” minhyuk chuckled. “i’d do anything for you honey.”

you shrugged off his statement, but he quite literally meant it. he was lost in thoughts of a future with you, various fantasies playing out in his head until the sound of your sneeze shook him out of his thoughts. he snatched a tissue from the box on your nightstand and was about to wipe your nose himself, but you took the tissue from his grip and insisted that you could do it, reminding him that you’re just sick, not paralyzed. he sheepishly chuckled at himself, worrying his lip as he watched you blow your nose almost violently. 

even in a less graceful state, he still found you gorgeous, seeing past the tissue stuffed up your nostril and your glassy eyes and puffy lids. he swiped his thumb across your cheek slowly, something a little intimate for friends, but you were used to his signs of affection. you let out a rough sigh at the inability to breathe through your nose and pushed your head further into the pillows when you felt your head begin to pound. minhyuk hated seeing you so miserable, so he did whatever he could to make you feel better. 

“how’s a cup of tea sound?” he asked stroking your cheek over and over with the same thumb. 

“i don’t have any tea left… but i do have some instant hot cocoa packets,” a smirk decorated your face at the thought of the treat.

“i don’t know if hot cocoa will be good for your head baby,” he coaxed you again with a pet name, but you only pouted at his question, jutting out your bottom lip. he let out a heavy sigh before finally giving in. “i can’t say no to you,” he sang when he finally gave in, tapping your nose. “i’ll be right back.”

you could only nod at his voice, closing your eyes and trying to take your mind off of the pain in your skull. he patted your knee before hopping up from the bed and shuffling to the kitchen. 

he put some milk in a mug and put it in the microwave, pacing aimlessly through the kitchen while he waited for it to heat up. his mind wandered back to you and how cute you looked cooped up in bed. one thought led to another, and soon he let fantasies of you with him enter his mind, and blood quickly began rushing to his cock. images of you underneath him filled his head, and he was becoming shamelessly aroused at the thought of filling you up. without even thinking, his hand hovered over the crotch of his pants before finally applying pressure where he needed it the most. he palmed himself through his pants, letting soft sighs fall from his lips. 

minhyuk pushed his pants and boxers down his thighs, freeing his aching length. he began to pump it slowly, massaging his shaft until a bead of precum formed at the tip. he spread his precum all down his cock, using it to easily move his hand along his shaft. his eyes fluttered shut as he got lost in the feeling, imagining it was you moving on his cock instead of his hand. he fucked his fist feverishly, pushing him closer and closer to his high until he was interrupted by the beeping of the microwave. he let out a groan at the noise, stopping his movements on his cock and going to retrieve the mug. 

minhyuk pulled the mug out of the microwave and placed it on the counter to let it cool down a bit. he glanced down at his leaking cock which rested against the counter, so close to the mug that he could feel the heat radiating off of it. it was like a lightbulb went off in minhyuk’s head as his brain conjured up a sick idea. 

he propped his knee up onto the counter, hovering his center over the top of mug. staring down at the mug, his guilty conscience vanished as he began to pump himself again. his fist started a slow pace before quickly picking up speed, knowing you would start to get suspicious if he took too long. he threw his head back as his pleasure mounted in his stomach, heat spreading through his body. he could feel his abdomen tighten as he got closer to finishing and he fought to choke back his moans as he jerked himself faster. his eyes shot down to where the tip of his cock hovered above the dish, and with a few more strokes he was shooting his load into the mug, his seed disappearing into the hot milk. 

his eyes were locked on the mug as he regained his breath, still holding onto his slowly softening cock. he stroked it a couple more times, shivering from the sensitivity and never failing to keep you on his mind. you, in your sick glory waiting for him to come back with a warm cup of hot cocoa. shit. snapping out of his post-orgasm haze, he pulled his pants back up, wiped his hand on a napkin, and ripped a hot cocoa packet open, pouring its contents into the new mixture in the mug. stirring it up with a spoon and making sure it didn’t look weird, he hurriedly made it back to your room with the normal looking cocoa in hand. 

you were almost asleep but the sound of his footsteps and humming made you fight to stay awake. he placed the mug on your nightstand, helping you sit your body upright and placing a pillow behind you. he tried to stop his hands from shaking as he handed you the mug, but luckily your tired state stopped you from noticing how he trembled, or how carefully he watched you drink from the mug. 

you smacked your lips a couple times, analyzing the taste in your mouth. your face wasn’t exactly sour, but you did sport a puzzled expression.

“hm, something is different,” you hummed, taking another sip to get a better taste. minhyuk watched you with wide eyes, taking in every bit of your reaction.

“what do you mean?” minhyuk asked with a sweet and innocent voice, as if he didn’t even know he had just fed you his own cum. 

“i don’t know. there’s just something different. maybe the texture…” you trailed off as you took a swig this time. you looked off into space, rolling the fluid around your tongue before gulping it down. “did you use the almond milk?” you asked, an intrigued lilt in your voice.

“how’d you know?” minhyuk played along, moving onto the mattress and draping his arm around your shoulder. you smiled to yourself triumphantly, taking more sips from the mug, completely oblivious to his additional ingredient.

#minhyuk smut #monsta x smut #minhyuk x reader #minhyuk imagine #minhyuk crack #minhyuk blurb #minhyuk monsta x #minhyuk #monsta x #kpop smut #monsta x x reader #monsta x imagine #monsta x writings #minhyuk writings #monsta x blurb #monsta x drabble #minhyuk drabble #yandere minhyuk #yandere monsta x #minhyuk fluff #monsta x fluff #monsta x crack #monsta x fic #minhyuk fic

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: overseas trip 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: yukishiro azuma/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: n s f w 𝐰𝐜: 2.4k words

𝐚𝐧: @sleepy-ruri​ hi ruri, nsfw definitely isn’t my strong suit in writing so this took a while to get out~  i tried to bring azuma justice here!!! uhh, practice safe sex guys— gender-neutral pronouns, but cis female body parts

“This is a little nostalgic, isn’t it?” Azuma said offhandedly, his hand coming to rest gently on your wrist. With a feather-like touch, his thumb barely brushing across your pulse. After a few seconds, you closed your fingers slightly around the length of his.

“To think we’re back years later in the place we first met,” you laughed quietly, your boyfriend following suit as the two of you enjoyed the walk back to the hotel room.

The two of you had been to this country before, albeit flying in separately.

It was a city of subdued colours but bustling theatricality, traditional buildings with tall chimneys made out of brick and spires of dark stone setting the main hub apart from the windswept, grassy hills and mountains compromising the landscape.

It was hard not to love the historic core of the capital, opulent with ethereal sites— its castles and churches and gardens putting an almost dreamy, magical filter in the world of reality.

“I remember it pretty clearly,” Azuma said, momentarily looking away from the row of buildings you were passing through, “the day we met,” he continued.

“We met in a garden near here, didn’t we?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in affirmation, “would you like to go visit? It can be our little detour before heading back to the hotel.”

You smiled gently, giving him a small squeeze on the palm, “I’d like that.”

It was springtime, too, when you first saw Azuma. He stood there in the middle of the flourishing tulips, narcissus, and lupines; despite being surrounded by exquisite horticultural creations, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the long-haired man.

“It still looks the same,” you said, taking in the sight of flowerbeds and groves being illuminated by the street lamps, giving the garden an almost mystical, fairylike glow.

Or perhaps, it was the memories seeping in that gave it that effect.

“Meanwhile, you’ve gotten more beautiful,” Azuma replied, a chuckle leaving his system. “I still remember how adorable you were, looking all lost and confused in a sea of flowers. Your dishevelled hair was cute, too.”

You nearly sputtered, unsure whether to call him out for his flattery or his teasing first.

“That’s not fair! Here I am, remembering how dazzling and graceful you were, meanwhile, you’re telling me I looked…” you trailed off, quickly changing the topic. “Besides, how do you even remember that?”

“Fufu, because it has to do with you, obviously,” he teased, “I even remember the leaves stuck on your sweater. I was almost afraid there’d be bugs, but you looked so helpless I just had to step in.”

“Azuma!”

You half-heartedly hid from his gaze, his body beginning to shake with mirth the more embarrassed you appeared.

“You make it sound like I got into a mess on purpose,” you muttered, pout already present on your features. “Is it my fault the wind hated me and smacked me in the face?”

“Well, someone needs to be at fault,” he began, “but I can’t blame the wind that brought me to you in the end.”

Honestly, where was he getting these lines? If he went on for any longer, you probably would have been set ablaze, and even in the dark of the night, you knew Azuma would be able to see it somehow.

“Really! Don’t tease me so much, we’re still outside!”

“Nn? Then it’s fine if we’re in the hotel room?”

You knew he was toying with you by the way the corner of his mouth quirked up, eyes steadily gauging your reactions. At this point you weren’t sure what else he was expecting, your widened eyes and the heat creeping up your neck already a set standard for whenever Azuma said something with… implications.

“Fufu. Ah, it’s getting darker. We should really be heading back now.”

Even as the two of you left the garden, you couldn’t shake off the flustered feeling that stuck with you. It wasn’t as if you and Azuma had never done anything, far from that, but perhaps the mood of tonight— being in the country where you two first met, further amplified your feelings and restlessness.

Still, you two had a tiring day sightseeing, and another long day ahead of the both of you tomorrow, so it was probably unlikely anything would happen.

You immediately changed into comfortable sleepwear the moment you entered the hotel room, your boyfriend chuckling as you sprawled onto your shared bed. As nice as the sights were, nothing could beat the expensively fluffy pillow welcoming you back after a long day.

“Little bunny~ don’t go to sleep yet, we still have something to do, remember?” He asked, voice mellifluous, as though sweetened with honey.

You shot up immediately, head rising up to gape at Azuma. Within a few beats, you notice he’s not looking at you, but instead laying out all of his (and your) skincare products on the coffee table.

Aha, right.

Your lack of an immediate response made the man turn around to face you, his ever-present smile looking a lot slyer than usual.

“Hmm? Is something wrong, honey?” he asked, leaving his station to sit on the bed beside you. His robe shifted slightly as he inched closer, a movement that did not go unnoticed by you.

Your heart fluttered the moment he started rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, a subconscious action that turned more purposeful as the tactile affection escalated upwards, the soft pads of his fingers slowly moving upwards to rub your arms.

With the distance between your faces decreasing, you resist the urge to shut your eyes as his you felt his hot breath against your cheek.

“You still haven’t said anything,” he reminded you, his free hand tilting your chin upwards. Eyes of gold greeted you, not unlike the lustrous jewellery royals would wear or the leaf crowns gods and goddesses would adorn in mythology.

“Your face is flushed, how cute,” Azuma said, “did you catch a cold, somehow?”

He didn’t actually think that, you knew perfectly well that he was aware of the effects of his actions. Still, he wasn’t one to pass up teasing you just as you weren’t one to unabashedly admit to how he was making you feel.

However, your patience could only take you so far.

“That’s not it,” you mumbled, “it’s… well,” you trailed off, hoping he would help you out and take the words out of your mouth.

He did not speak but his eyes did, a visible crinkle as he waited for you to arrange your words into something coherent.

“I know you’re probably tired from today,” you began, eyes darting to the side in a vain attempt to hide your embarrassment, “but I guess I’m… you’re—ugh,” you struggled to find the words, a direct enough phrase that didn’t come off as too desperate.

Azuma interrupted you with a fruity laugh, “you don’t have to worry. You could have just told me— we’ve done this many times before.”

You pouted, “it’s not fair. Why do you have to be so erotic?”

“Fufu, thank you. Now, let’s play around for a bit tonight, okay, little bunny?”

The hand beneath your chin tugs you forward, and before your eyes closed you noticed the gold diminishing, hidden beneath the dark coal of his pupils.

The first of Azuma’s kisses always leaned towards the sweet side, and this time is no different. His lips were soft and gentle, but his kisses were given with enough pressure to prove that you’re not the only one enjoying this.

Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder as you interlace the fingers of your already joined hands. The night had only just begun, but you appreciated this moment of tenderness as the day’s fatigue slipped away.

Hands abandoning their chaste positions on each other’s hands and face, your arms go around his neck as one of his arms hug you closer by the waist and the other presses against the flat of your back.

Despite the slow motions between your lips, it was clear who took lead of the other, him slipping past the seams of your lips and rendering tiny sound out of you. The hand on your back travelled upwards, his nails catching the soft hairs at the nape of your neck making you shiver.

No matter how many times he’d done it, he could never tire of exploring you, the way you’d pull away from him to breathe a low, spell-inducing, “Azuma…”

He murmured your name in return, the sound sinfully pleasing into your ear. In the time you took the catch your breath, he went from holding you against his chest to having you underneath him, lips pressing against your jawline as he muttered sweet nothings to you.

“You’re so cute, my little bunny,” Azuma said, and you felt like every appendage in your body melted into a puddle.

He gave a teasing nip to your ear, the hitch in your breath making him chuckle. He wetted his lips his tongue before gently kissing every part of his neck. You closed your eyes at the sensation, gasping as he breathed hot air on your neck in between kisses.

“Are you ready for more?” He asks, the hand still around your waist playing with the hem of your pajama shirt. When you nod, Azuma takes his time in unbuttoning the piece, his fingers brushing over the newly-revealed expanse of skin. The contact was brief, and you whined as though to tell him to hurry up.

“Hn, what’s that? You want me to go slower?” Despite his words, he doesn’t make you wait any longer, pulling off your top as you propped yourself up momentarily to discard the article of clothing.

As you settle back down onto the plush bed, Azuma’s index started at your collarbone, before tracing down towards your chest. He drew an indecipherable pattern, before stroking the side and massaging the mound as his thumb tweaked one of your hardened nipples. He puts his mouth on the unattended one, sucking firmly, and you nearly come right off the bed, feeling the first, tiny bit of slickness rush through you.

Needing an anchor, you slid one hand in his hair and gripped his forearm with the other.

“Azuma,” you said, not quite sure what you’re asking for— but apparently he knew, because the pressure leaves your chest as the pad of his thumb ventures from your stomach to the garter of your underwear, pulling down your sleeping shorts with it. He adjusted himself on the bed, positioning himself so he could be closer to your lower half.

You shuddered as his fingertips travelled down along the length of your legs to follow your bottoms. When you lifted your head, you felt your face grow hot as you see the look on Azuma’s face as he eyes your pussy. It’s rare to see a hungry look in his eyes, a look only reserved for the most private of moments, but nonetheless it never failed to get you more excited.

His face came closer to the space between your legs, but when he made contact with your lower lips, the sheer skill of his tongue and mouth electrified you. Azuma knew just the right places to kiss, to lick, to suck— knew when to change spots and at what pace to do it.

“More,” you croak out, breathless,

“So responsive,” he crooned against your pussy, your body responding to the pulsation in kind, trembling.

“Azuma!” you mewled, warning him that you were closely approaching completion. When he finally pulled his mouth away, you couldn't help the disappointed noise that slipped out of you, though it’s quickly cut off as Azuma unties the belt of his robe.

The silky fabric slides off his body sensually, slowly unravelling himself to you until he was completely bare.

The sight of his naked body does nothing to quench your desire, but if his hardened member was anything to go by you could tell he wanted you just as much.

“Are you ready, my little bunny?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, the both of you spending a few seconds to stare at each other lovingly, before he finally aligned himself with your hot, dripping core. The tip kissed the entrance, and you can’t help the feelings of anticipation you felt.

His expression remains the same— the corner of his lips quirked upwards as he slowly moved into you. The slide is easier than expected because of your wetness, but both of you wait a couple beats for you to adjust to his size.

When you finally felt ready, you whined out Azuma’s name.

Pulling out slowly, he slid back in, sinking into your skin. Pressing his chest against yours, he briefly kissed you once again as he continued gliding in and out of you. You tasted a little bit of yourself on his mouth, which did nothing but to spur you on more.

He rolled his hips against yours, before pumping more rapidly into your heat, hammering himself into your insides. Tireless moans, whimpers, and iterations of his name spill out of your mouth as your gripped onto the bedsheets beneath you.

You’re clenching around him almost painfully now, still sensitive from his earlier ministrations on your clit, and both of you knew there wasn’t much time left before you reached euphoria.

You wouldn’t mind staying like this, having his perfect cock sliding in and out of you, but you know it isn’t possible as your breathing shortened and a shower of stars blur your vision.

“Azuma!” you wailed out, your head falling back as one last thrust making you cum at last. It doesn’t take long for your lover to follow suit either, a pained groan escaping his lips; pulling out of you and smearing your stomach with his cum.

The both of you are spent and sweating, Azuma collapsing next to you on the mattress. Using what little strength you had left, you inched yourself closer to him until your head rested against his chest. His arm moved to settle beneath your head, massaging it lightly.

“I love you,” you said. With a gentle smile, he repeats your words.

“I love you too.”

You knew the two of you would have to get up eventually. You two had to clean up, and Azuma would never let either of you sleep without going through your respective skincare routines, but as you stared lovingly into his eyes you knew it could wait for a little longer.

want to order again?

#a3! #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! azuma #azuma yukishiro #yukishiro azuma #cafe: dessert menu #a3! game #a3! x reader

[ourimpavidheroine]

May I ask why it is you didn't write any homophobia into your fanfic?

You may!

I was born in 1969. When I was a young girl growing up in the 70′s, there was absolutely nothing available to me that referenced anything queer. No books, no media, nothing at all. And by nothing, I mean NOTHING.

Were there queer people in the 1970′s? Oh my yes. But I knew nothing about them because it was just not part of my world. As far as I knew, queer people did not exist.

The first time I learned about queer people was overhearing a conversation when I was about nine or so about my Dad’s co-worker Ernie, a lovely first generation Chinese American man who often came to our house to hang out and who once brought me a beautiful doll from China that had long black hair and a hanfu with lilies all over it. My mother was saying something to my Dad about not wanting Ernie around my younger brother and me because he was gay and my father got pretty pissed off at her about it. I couldn’t understand why Ernie being happy would be such a bad thing, so I asked my Dad later and he explained what that meant. My Dad being the guy he was, he pretty much normalized it for me and I took it at face value.

The summers of 1983 and 1984 I attended acting school in San Francisco and that’s when I learned a lot more about queer people. That was smack dab in the middle of the AIDS epidemic; one of the teachers lost his best friend the night before our class and sat on the floor and sobbed and sobbed about it. It was, you can believe me, a real eye opener.

But you see, this is what the media told me about gay people as a teenager in the 80′s: they all had AIDS and were spreading it to straight people. They were pedophiles. The men were desperate, lonely people or overdramatic bitches that fucked anything that moved. The women were mean and ugly and out to steal other people’s wives or weird hippy pagan ladies that never shaved and smelled. They would all come to a bad end, one way or the other.

My biology/sex ed teacher in 9th grade told us that same-sex crushes were normal for teenagers and that they would go away and didn’t mean we were gay. Oh, I thought. Well then I guess laying awake all night thinking about Annie Lennox in the Sweet Dreams video and that one redheaded girl on the varsity volleyball team is just something I’ll grow out of.

(Spoiler alert: I did not grow out of it.)

I did not think of myself as being queer. For one thing, I still found boys attractive. For another, Mr. Powell told us it was something we’d grow out of. And I wasn’t like any of those women that we started seeing bits and pieces of in the media. So I just didn’t think about it.

I was at university in the late 80′s and early 90′s, studying theater, and then of course I was introduced to plenty of queer people. That was when I realized that yeah, okay, this is not going away. I am attracted to both men and women; I am bisexual. (Pansexual wasn’t something I’d heard of then but it’s how I identify now.)

Were we in the media? Eh...not so much. A glimpse here and there. But again, not much. And when we were in the news? It was Matthew Shephard (oh god, I remember sitting on the floor and hyperventilating when I saw that on the news) or it was Boys Don’t Cry or Will and Grace where Will was played as straight by a straight guy and never had a boyfriend and Jack was played for laughs.

This was not what my life was like.

I did come out to my family in my 20′s when I got a girlfriend; no one liked my girlfriend (god, she was so hot but such bad news; the sex was so so so good but she was so so so rotten, learn from my fail, children) but the fact that I was queer fazed none of them on either side. I come from very liberal stock, however. (Very liberal.) When I divorced my first husband and brought my then Finnish girlfriend around everyone loved her. It was not a traumatic experience for me. It hasn’t been traumatic for me in Finland, for the most part. 

Of course I understand that this is not the norm for everyone coming out. I know people suffer from discrimination; I am next door to Russia, I know what the fuck is going on in Chechnya. Trans people in Finland are still required by law to be sterilized before they can legally transition. Gay marriage only became legal here very recently. I know kids get kicked out by their parents, still get sent to conversion camps. I am aware of the kind of violence transpeople are subjected to.

But this is my point. What are people still seeing on the news? What do they see in media? Homophobia, coming out trauma, violence, rejection, people having to engage in political debate for their right to simply exist. Is it better than it was even ten years ago? Oh yes, it really is. Absolutely it is. Is it good, though? Is it normalized?

Nope. Not yet. And I firmly believe that a huge part of that is because queer media is still being produced by straight people. Many of whom mean well, of course. But it’s not their story. 

I know it can be very important, especially for younger readers, to read stories about coming out, about homophobia. It’s a way for them to process it and I’m not about to sit here and say that’s wrong. It’s not wrong! But there’s a world of difference between a queer person writing their own experiences as a form of processing and a straight person using those experiences as a means of conflict in their stories.

Do I think Bryke had good intentions writing a whole coming out arc for Korra in the comics? Retconning homophobia into their universe? I do. I absolutely do! I think they are very careful and thoughtful about representation. It matters to them.

But the fact remains that Korra’s coming out and the subsequent retcon of homophobia was written by a straight man in order to add conflict/drama to his story. There is no other reason for it to be there; Korra being queer does not require a coming out storyline nor subsequent homophobia. 

Let me repeat this:

Being queer does not require coming out or homophobia. That is something that straight people add to the stories of our lives, both in real life as well as media.

So that’s what I am doing in my fic. I am normalizing queerness. Am I doing it perfectly? Of course not; I’ve been learning to write with my fic, and I’ve made certain choices I would like to go back and change now. But I am making a choice to write the kind of world I think queer people should be living in: I am normalizing us.

My queer characters have negative things happen to them; they are as human as I can make them. They don’t live in a utopia. But the things that happen to them do not happen because of their gender or sexuality. I am not now nor will I ever be killing my gays.

#long post #well this got long-winded didn't it? #more than you asked for probably Anon #but there it is #Anonymous

[teratomatoe]

Orc Half-Blood Boyfriend Part 1

Well hello :) 

This is my first story EVER, that I’m posting on Tumblr at least. I’m pretty new to this, but I hope that you can find it in your hearts to enjoy my jumbled writing. 

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Citrus

You come across an interesting trio and can’t help but be entranced by the mute orc who carries himself gracefully.

1,515 words

male monster x gender-neutral reader

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You couldn’t help but do a double-take when he walked through the doors of the tiny bookshop. You’d been delivering a fresh set of books to Rowaldine, the old harpy that owned the bookshop, when a particularly good-looking trio sauntered in through the door. You almost hadn’t regarded the other two to his right because of how distracted you were. 

He really was a looker, a collection of cool, hard angles. His eyes were the most intense, brooding brown that you had ever seen, and you were almost sure that you could see flecks of gold floating around in them from where you stood. His eyes alone were enough to distract you from the twin tusks that jutted from his mouth, capped and banned with pale gold. His skin was a beautiful, pale green and his raven tresses had been cut short, which you found to be odd, seeing as most orcs prefer to keep their hair long for sake of tradition.

From the points of his ears to his angled features and slighter build, you could tell that he wasn’t of pureblood and your money was on him being some part fae. 

No ordinary half-blood walks around with such grace and caution. 

You were brought out of your stunned haze when you banged your head against a bookshelf with a garbled curse. Heat flushed your neck and cheeks, and you could only scowl at Rowaldine who snickered at your inconvenience, having obviously just watched you ogle her half-blood customer.

“Ah, my favorite little hunters,” Rowaldine crooned, not intimidated or bothered by the weapons splayed across their bodies. 

You watched from between the books as the figure in the middle let out a yipping laugh before stepping closer to Rowaldine, who stood behind a counter. Unfortunately, you were unable to see their face over the books because of their short stature, but you saw the rounded, chipped ears that sat atop their head and could safely assume that they were a gnoll. Well, that and their cheerful laugh. 

“Row, my favorite old bird,” the gnoll chided, bracing their fuzzy arms against the counter before Rowaldine. “Last time we came to visit you some grouchy taur was sitting behind the counter - pft, and she was rude.” 

The gnoll must’ve been talking about Penny, Rowaldine’s grandaughter. Penny was sweet when she wanted to be, but one thing was for sure, that girl was opinionated as all hell. But with the way the gnoll went on and on about her rude antics, you could only assume that he had caught her on one of her off days. 

“Watch yourself, Kio,” Rowaldine warned, “that’s my kin you’re talking about.”

You watched as a taller figure neared the counter and placed their hands on the gnoll’s shoulders. Their blue skin clashed brilliantly against the brown of the gnoll's fur, and you couldn’t help but feel envious as you watched a curtain of beautiful white hair slip over their shoulders. Your eyes followed the strands of their hair to the pointed tips of their ears and to the horns that curled backward like ram horns. 

“He meant no harm,” the horned figure spoke, their voice as smooth as honey and as warm as a crackling fire. You could’ve fallen asleep to her voice. “The whelp just doesn’t know when to stop talking.” 

“Yeah,” Kio, the gnoll, drawled. You could almost hear the grin on his face. “Sorry, Taeva has yet to housetrain me, still a feral pup you see.”

This time, the horned person smacked Kio upside the head. “I shouldn’t have to housebreak you.”

“But here we are,” Rowaldine finished with a smile, obviously warmed at the sight of this odd trio. The harpy straightened out the books on the counter with a huff and offered them another smile. “Is there anything I can help you guys with?”

Kio let out a groan, “actually, Deus lost his book on our last hunt, and he wouldn’t stop bothering us about getting a new book and-” 

“Oh hush,” Rowaldine cut the gnoll off and ushered the half-blood closer. When he complied, she grinned, “I’ve gotten better at signing.”

And with that, you were stunned into a stupor as you watched Rowaldine communicate with the beautiful half-blood, Deus, using her hands. You knew the old harpy wouldn’t learn a language with her difficult, feathered hands for just anybody, so it had you wondering just how she had come to know these hunters - as she called them. 

Taeva, as Kio had called her, let out a small chuckle at the sight of the old bird communicating enthusiastically with Deus. “Who’s been teaching you all of this, Row?”

Rowaldine could only wink at her. “I listen to books better than I listen to people.” 

“Of course,” Kio huffed. “You can’t even listen to us sometimes.”

“What was that, whelp?” Rowaldine humored him, grinning as she broke from her conversation with Deus. When Deus signed something again, she pointed in your direction. 

Your throat closed up at the prospect of coming face to face with someone so beautiful. So, you simply scrambled to place the rest of the books on the shelf before you. You didn’t even have time to admire the handiwork of the engraved covers, shoving the books hastily onto the shelf. A few books tumbled onto the floor and you grumbled, bending over to snatch them off of the floor. When you straightened again, you flinched at the sight of a figure standing at the end of the aisle. 

Deus watched you with clear interest, his hand coming to rest on the butt of his crossbow as he closed the yawning space between you two. You couldn’t help it as your lips parted at the sight of his features up close, but you couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him, so you were quick to close your mouth before you caught flies. 

He came to a halt in front of you, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. The gold on his tusks caught the light in a way that nearly left you breathless - and blinded. But what really pushed you over the edge was his scent; he smelled like the smoke of a fresh bonfire and the cold, crisp autumn air. 

You found that his presence was doing things to your body that you forgot it could do.

Deus sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before looking at the books in your hands and smiling. He pointed to the one in your right hand and met your eyes again, the brown hues in them swirling and glowing. With a shaky hand, you handed Deus the book, your mouth going dry when his warm, calloused hand closed around yours. It seemed that you weren’t the only one affected by this, as Deus zeroed in on your joined hands and his lips parted. You gauged his reaction with a small smile.

“Oh, Deus, what have we here?” A voice sounded from the end of the aisle, where Deus had stood previously. The two of you parted quickly as the gnoll trotted over with a wide grin on his face. “We leave you alone for a minute and you’re already trying to woo someone.” 

Deus could only let out a warning growl, scowling at Kio. The gnoll only let out a yipping laugh that you found yourself smiling at. Kio punched Deus playfully on the arm and turned to smile at you. “Well hello pretty thing, is Deus keeping you hostage over here?”

Deus’ grip tightened on his book and he cuffed the gnoll on the side of his head. Kio’s ears went flat against his head and he huffed before turning away. “You’re no fun, Deus.”

The half-blood rolled his eyes before looking at you again, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards before he nodded and hesitantly followed after his gnoll buddy.

You couldn’t help but feel winded as he walked away, your heart beating a mile a minute as you clutched harder onto the books pressed against your chest. Even as the trio paid Rowaldine and bid her farewell, you couldn’t help but feel as if you couldn’t catch your breath as you watched Deus disappear beyond the sunny windows of the shop. 

“Ah,” Rowaldine smirked at you as you stalked over to her counter. She reached for her coin purse and waggled her eyebrows at you. “I didn’t know that you liked them lean and green.” 

At that, rolled your eyes and slipped the coins she gave to you in your pocket. “Next batch won't be coming till next Thursday.”

“Shame,” the old bird clicked her tongue. “He usually drops by on Fridays by himself...” She trailed off, an innocent look on her face.

“You,” You huffed, before turning and marching towards the door. “I don’t care.”

“Uh-huh,” came her reply.

But, a nagging voice at the back of your head told you that you would be dropping the books off next Friday.

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Did ‘ya enjoy it? If so, wanna show me some love? (if you catch my drift ;) reblog and like)

#exophelia #exophilia #monster #monster boyfriend #orc #fae #halfblood #half orc #monster x reader #monster x human #short story #monster short story #exophilia short stories #excuse the quality #excuse the typos #excuse the tags #gender neautral reader #monster x gender neautral reader

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

in too deep (part 5) - jules

jules x reader

TW: drugging

warnings: beating, homophobia, threat of death, i think that’s pretty much it??

notes: ooooohhh we’re getting closer to the end! not that i’m excited for this to end, but i’m just excited for you guys to see it

i really hope that me putting homophobia in this story doesn’t make you guys think i’m homophobic bc that’s the farthest thing from true. since i changed the gender of the mickey stand-in, i felt like it might be more interesting to add another dynamic into the story so it wasn’t just a word for word copy of the original except with a girl, bc that seems really one-dimensional to me. i feel like i need to put one of those things they have in movie credits like “the views in this film in no way reflect the views of the studio that produced it” kinda thing

also i think this may be my favorite part that i’ve written, bc if you didn’t notice, i’ve never left the reader’s perspective during the whole thing, so i had to improv a bit during the parts of the movie we didn’t get to see with mickey, and maybe i’m just a lil proud of myself :’)

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for the first time since you came up with your brilliant plan to siphon the gas, you actually felt a glimmer of hope. jules was smart, she’d surely find a way out of the house; and she was damn loyal, too, so you knew there was no chance she’d leave you behind. 

sadly all those hopes were dashed when you heard the basement door creak open again. 

fuck, this whole plan was dependent on the fact that no one else came downstairs! your hands clammed up, your heart rate quickening as footsteps descended the stairs, stopping dead in their tracks once they reached the bottom. 

  “where the hell’d that little bitch go?” george roared, scanning every nook and cranny in the basement to see if jules was hiding anywhere. “answer me!”

you stayed silent, more out of fear than some sort of strategy. you quickly realized this was the wrong decision as george viciously backhanded you across the face. your head whipped to the side, eyes blinking back into focus from the impact. you felt something sticky on your lips and realized it was blood. 

  “you’re so angry,” you groaned. “why? just ‘cause you’re shooting blanks?” you pouted in mock sympathy. this sudden boost of confidence seemed to be a mistake as you saw george’s expression shift into a dangerously content one. 

  “i’m gonna rip your fuckin’ heart out.” your face dropped as he spoke. “i understand you not wantin’ to tell me where she is. in fact, if i were in your position i suppose i’d do the same. but god almighty i’m gonna watch ya’ die. i’m gonna hurt ya’.”

you were stunned into silence but you decided saying something, anything, would be better than nothing. “she’s gone, man. you just need to give it up.”

this seemed to strike a nerve in him. he turned towards you again and delivered another swift slap, knocking the wind out of you. he smacked you again, the back of your head knocking into the pole and causing your consciousness to fade for a moment. 

  “you think i’m full of hot air, don’t you? only good on roughin’ you up?” he asked rhetorically. “you know i worked as a door-to-door salesman for a few years? learned a lot, but the most important thing i learned was how to read people. and at the end of the day, you’re just an open book, sweetheart.”

the name sounded like poison dripping from his lips. it made you sick, that name belonged to jules. 

  “i know your type, believe you me, i’ve seen quite a few in my time. you see, you like to think you’re tough, strong, resilient, but at the end of the day, you just value her life above yours.” he laughed to himself. “am i right?”

he chuckled again when you didn’t answer. “that’s alright, you don’t have to answer, i know i’m right. well, you people are more loyal than i thought. guess i gotta give credit where credit’s due.”

  “fuck you.” you spat. “don’t fucking talk about her like that.” he stood up again, this time grabbing something from a shelf before making his way back to you. 

  “alright, no more pussyfootin’ around, time to get down to business.” he revealed the knife, positioning it under your ear as he prepared to slice it off. 

  “sheisn’tgoingtothecops!” you breathed out quickly, hoping he’d let you keep both ears with the statement. 

  “what? what’d you say?” he seemed caught of guard by the sudden admission, backing off of you. 

  “not yet, anyway.” you took a moment to catch your breath. “i told her to wait. yeah, we got a little meet up spot. now if i don’t show up there in an hour or so, then yeah, cops galore. you’re fucked, buddy. but, if i do show up, we just continue on our way like none of this happened.”

you took another shaky breath before you continued. “if we’re being honest here, i don’t want the cops involved any more than you do. y’know, the whole ‘not gainfully employed’ thing? the cops aren’t a huge fan of that one.”

george seemed to take this into consideration, nodding quietly to himself. “what about sweetiepie?”

  “her? i don’t give a fuck about her, she’s the whole reason i’m in this mess.” you winked at her, hoping she’d understand the message. 

george snapped the blade shut, producing the key from to the cuffs from his jacket pocket. 

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  “any last words for this son of a bitch?” george asked gloria as he trained the pistol on you.

  “oh, i do wish you’d handled things differently. we could’ve had somethin’ beautiful here.” she smiled sadly, mourning what could’ve been. 

  “i’ll see you in hell,” george mumbled as he opened the door for you. you stepped into the doorway, only to stop dead in your tracks when you heard your girlfriend’s voice. shit.

  “stop, don’t kill her!” jules shouted from the top of the steps, baby doll in hand. “i will smash it!” she held it over the railing, dangling precariously above the hardwood flooring beneath. 

  “whew, that was close.” george laughed, closing the door behind you. “unhand my baby!” gloria whined. 

  “alright, missy, calm down. no one’s gonna get hurt.” he kept the gun aimed at your head, but gloria quickly pried it out of his hands and took a shot at jules. she crouched to shield herself from the bullet that thankfully missed, but in doing so let go of the baby that plummeted to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. 

  “get your ass down here or i’ll blow her brains out!” george shouted gruffly as jules descended the staircase. she ran to you, hugging you close and helping you to stand on your injured leg. 

gloria rushed out of the room, bloody pieces of ceramic in hand as george turned back to you. “look what you gone and did. what did i do to deserve you two?”

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  “cooking’s a zen art for my dear gloria. i’ve found there’s a method to it: the more upset she is, the bigger the dish it takes to pull her out.” george explained. “needless to say, i think the two of you just summoned up a banquet.”

the two of you had been crudely duct-taped to some chairs in the dining room, forced to listen to the stuffy dialogue between the husband and wife. “why? why do you keep her down there?” jules asked. 

  “it’s not what you think.” he looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t listening. “my gloria, she’s always wanted a child. unfortunately, the good lord did not have that in his plans for us. so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

  “oh, so you kidnapped her.” jules stated bluntly. george glared at her, but continued his explanation. 

  “as you get older, things get... complicated, and i swear to god i had no ill intentions. i just wanted to make my wife happy.” he smiled. “and she was for a bit, until she started to remind her of what she couldn’t have. she asked me to make her go away, but i couldn’t bring myself do that, so the basement is our compromise.” 

  “dinner is served!” gloria announced, wheeling in a cart full of dishes of shepherd’s pie. she placed one on everyone’s plate before she sat down. they quickly said grace before digging into their food. 

  “so are you guys gonna kill us or...? what’s the deal?” jules asked matter-of-factly. you wanted to nudge her shoulder and ask her what in the hell made her so bold, but you didn’t want to cause a scene. 

  “george, you didn’t tell them?” gloria asked confusedly. “i wanted to make ‘em squirm a bit,” he smirked. 

  “t-tell us what?” you cursed yourself for stuttering but you couldn’t help it, it came out when you were anxious. 

  “we’re not gonna kill you.” george mumbled, almost sounding disappointed. “i said we’re not gonna kill ‘ya, what are you deaf?” you stifled a grin at jules, not wanting to change their decision to set you free. “we’ve decided that, despite your piss-poor behavior, the logistics of it just don’t make no sense for us.”

  “sooner or later someone’s gonna come lookin’ for you two. now, i can hide a body like the easter bunny hides an egg, but the two of you have been sweatin’, spittin’, and pissin’ all over this place.” he paused to take a sip of his drink. “anywho, i’m bound to miss a spot. i figure we have a better chance of hitting the road. we’ll give it 48 hours, tip off the police, they’ll come by and pick ya’ up. i reckon you’ll do some time for whatever the hell you two did, but at least you’ll still be drawing breath. so congratulations, you should be thankful. you just won the damn lottery.”

jules spared a glance at you as if to say, what now? “take your time eatin’ you got another couple days in those chairs.” george muttered as he took another bite of his meal. 

screw it, you thought. we’re hungry and going to jail in the next two days, what harm could a nice meal do? you both picked up your forks and knives and tucked in to the plate in front of you. you nearly let out a moan in satisfaction as the food hit your tongue. you scooped up more greedily as you had no clue if and when the next time you’d get fed would be. 

  “wait,” jules swallowed the food in her mouth. “what’s gonna happen to her?” gloria glanced over to george, waiting for the answer to the question as well.

  “well, i’m sure they’ll put her some place nice. these orphanages, i hear they’re like five-star resorts.” george answered. 

  “does that upset you?” gloria turned to jules, a smile of mock empathy on her face. “anything’s better than down there.” jules mumbled. 

  “you got a heart of gold, jules. is your full name julia?” jules nodded in response. “my mother’s name was julia. she had a good heart, too, you remind me of her.”

  “she died of cancer when i was real little. it was a slow, painful process, but i was with her every step of the way!” she grinned as her husband blew her a kiss. “the day before she died, she told me to look in the closet, that i’d find a special surprise for me in there. it was a package, wrapped up nice and pretty, with a tiny card with my name on it. she insisted i opened it, so i wiped away my tears, tore open the paper and there it was. a doll.” 

everything stilled. every sound, the scraping of cutlery on the plate, the sound of everyone breathing, even the breeze blowing through the window decided this was a nice time to take a break. 

  “she said it was a magic doll,” she continued. “that no matter how sad i became, and believe me, i became very sad, i’d always have him with me. my ethan.”

your gut instincts finally kicked in as you spat out the food that was in your mouth, the gross pile of chewed up beef and potatoes looking oddly blurry to you. jules looked equally as mortified, probably even more since she was the one who brought about the end of the magic doll. 

  “and she was right; he was magical. and you took him away from me.” she grinned her creepy stepford wife grin once more. jules mumbled something but everything sounded miles away from you as your head swam. 

  “wha-what is this?” you slurred, the bright colors of the table morphing into one another. 

  “this is a drug overdose, y/n.” he chuckled when you sluggishly turned your head towards him. “i know, i know, i fibbed about lettin’ you live, but see, you had a veritable pharmacy in that bag of yours. you two just munched down enough pills to put a bull to bed,” his voice muffled into indiscernible nonsense, though you knew he was still speaking. 

  “f-fuck you,” jules managed, still keeping her head up. you, on the other hand, were slumped over, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. 

george got up from his seat, pulling your head up by your hair. “not so tough now, are ya’?” he jested. 

jules muttered something in your defense, but as soon as your head dropped, you were down for the count; just missing the hopeful ring of the doorbell, possibly signaling you might live to see another day. 

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i should probably put a link to previous parts at the top but i have no clue how to do that lol

tags: @emmyrosee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @willyourecognisemee​ @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass​

#jules #jules x reader #jules oneshot #jules imagine #jules fanfiction #jules fanfic #jules fic #jules villains #villains #villains 2019 #maika monroe #maika monroe character #my writing

[heaventoyou19]

A concept called Love

Growing up, Disney channel presented love to be this beautiful thing that’s obtainable when you have beauty, grace, a pretty face and a good heart with only an evil step mother or some witch as an obstacle. Looking back to when I first started dating, you can say that I was actively looking for Prince Charming to save me from my, oh –so-terrible life. I victimized myself and it wasn’t just because of the shows that my eyes and brain consumed almost daily… I also didn’t have the best role models growing up. That and I didn’t really have anyone to talk to about things encompassing love, what society deems attractive and horrendous, what’s actually right or the difference between love and toxic luggage. I had to run through a lot of case scenarios on my own to actually get an idea of all of this; and from what I can tell – love isn’t really worth the hassle.

I’ve been in relationships before and honestly speaking all throughout those relationships, I’ve only ever felt loved by one of them. Let’s call him, Zachary. He was my first love and I really thought that he would be my last. The only time I pictured my future to have more than just me, myself and I was when I see us marry each other. But that obviously, didn’t happen and what we had really set me up for actual character growth.

All throughout our relationship, we always had obstacles coming from both sides. By the end of our relationship, I was suffering in silence while he avoided me like a plague to solve his problems. He’s a great guy, but looking back, we were just too volatile and toxic for one another. He chose to end our little tango and I will forever be grateful for that. After months, almost eight actually, I realized how much love I was giving and pouring into his cup when my own neck was parched. I lost complete sense of myself and I truly didn’t have an identity because of how much I was breaking down every wall that I had just for him. I thought this was love.

I came to realize now after 19 years, 5 months and 2 weeks of living, how people truly navigate around the topic of love, entitlement, infatuations and lust; using myself as subject #1 under ‘people’.

Throughout my healing process I began to talk to my fellow peers to see if my situation was similar to theirs. Some were, but most had it worse than I did. Slowly I tried to get those peers to talk more. This gave me an insight as to how they managed their love lives; a limited scope but I take what I can get. Using my famous “you can trust me” frontier, you would be surprised at how quickly I could get someone to talk about what’s really going on in their romantic rendezvous. People are usually pretty reserved about the topic and want to maintain the “perfect for each other” exterior but I was really desperate for answers. It was a little manipulative on my part, but I really didn’t mean any harm when we had our conversations. After listening to their stories, I can tell that the one trait we have in common is that we love unconditionally – wait no, blindly. We let ourselves be stepped on like doormats thinking that this is love. Sacrificing our rights and literal self- worth is the measure of how much we love our person. In addition to this, the idea of wanting to complete and be the half of another literal person was something that kept popping up throughout our talks. So, by nature we have this need to fix someone and hence feel needed. And to that, we were legit smack talking their past exes and I’ve witnessed others literally gossip and complain away about their significant other. It got me thinking if this was what will naturally come with “Love”. Losing yourself, losing your cool and your head it’s… is this it? Is my self-worth and well-being worth that little to be traded with a problematic concept that just hinders a person from truly becoming the star that they are?

Sacrificing that freedom and the longevity of our sanity… is it worth it?

I used their stories as personal data to justify my prejudice on love. I wasn’t surprised when I found out that ‘Love” equates to “I want to be the reason why they change,” “they changed because of me,” and the “I’m the one destined to fix them.” As a friend, sister, cousin, girl fresh out of a relationship and  a fellow closeted rational – thinking human being, I can’t help but wonder why – why do we put a lot of significance in fixing someone? It’s not our responsibility to give up our freedom and put other people’s shit onto our plate. And yet, this is normal. Looking back to all of the Wattpad love stories I’ve read back in 8th grade, it was always bad boy meets good girl, good girl fell for bad boy, bad boy hurts good girl, good girl turn cold, bad boy suddenly realizes he loves good girl, bad boy changes for good girl and a whole dramatic sequence of finding true love at such a young age. This way of thinking is literally played out in movies, books, fanfictions and looking at the married couples around me, sometimes I wonder why they’re still together. It sounds harsh but really, it is mind bottling. These are two individuals who live completely different lives and time and time again, I had to watch them comply with the gender norms and get frustrated because of it. Succumbing to the mindset of how love works and how marriage works its… odd. We are expected to shed away our individualistic nature for a label that will only erase our names. If I get married it wouldn’t be, Lilac this or Lilac that- it would be X’s wife did that or Jane’s mother did this. Was all of this worth it for something as unstable as “Love”?

Reflecting on my relationship with Zachary, I realize I never truly needed him when I want to accomplish anything academically. The only thing that followed him each time he returns to my life was endless drama – not the good kind. So, in other words I could still hit great, grand milestones until my very last breath without him – and since he was my first love, then that meant I could breathe without “Love”.  Without love, I still have me, my thoughts and freedom which is worth more than just a concept that may or not be true. Something so changeable with time, that’s what “Love” is. Therefore, I stand by my words , “Love” whatever it is- it’s not really worth it.

#lovecore #whatdoesthatmean #i love you #writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #i have thoughts #i have questions

[metalbatandzenko]

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

oof this one is gonna be so long™ so it’s going under the cut.

Let’s talk about the slow dance scene in Hidden Horns. Specifically Badd and Garou’s slow dance.

First thing is that this scene actually got written before most of the rest of the fic. It wasn’t originally going to be part of HH, I wrote it bc I was listening to Orville Peck’s album Pony, and when this song came on, I thought it sounded like a fun song to slow dance to. It also made me yearn but that’s besides the point. 

Anyways let’s get into it.

Badd guided Garou’s hands to his hips. “‘m not a kid like Zen is, y’can hold me.”

Garou blinked, doing his best to focus on anything other than the warm weight of Badd’s hands on his shoulders or the feeling of Badd’s hips between his hands.

Garou’s a disaster. If you’ve ever seen middle schooler’s slow dance with the stiff zombie arms, that’s basically what he was doing. Which if you’ve ever been in that position, you know it’s not super comfortable for either party, nor is it sustainable bc of that.

But putting his hands on Badd’s hips might have been even more dangerous to Garou. Badd’s kind of a walking contradiction: he’s gruff but he’s sweet, rough but also gentle, muscular yet graceful. Garou’s kind of been seeing that first hand, but now he’s feeling it for himself in the way Badd moves and the feeling of muscle shifting under his finger tips.

There’s also the implied trust that Badd is showing in draping his arms around Garou’s neck on both ends. They’re both putting themselves in a vulnerable position where the other could easily overpower them if they strike first. Their willingness to be in this position with one another is kind of part of the evolution of their dynamic. 

I left a lot of that unsaid both because of the fact that having that analysis mid fic kind of kills the pacing and fic. Also this is done in the rhythm and tempo of Roses Are Falling, and while it’s a slow song, it’s not at a standstill.

“Back on the run,”

“Her reflexes are scary fast,” Garou remarked.

“Back to the blue…”

Badd chuckled. “Yeah. Sometimes she’s too fast even fer me t’track.”

One of the reasons I decided to put this scene in HH versus saving it for another fic is because of the lyrics of the song. There’s some fun foreshadowing and parallels between what is happening and what the lyrics are saying that I thought would work really well for this fic.

I also think this works well as a little nod to the actual canon of OPM and a potential way their relationship could evolve from here. So we get the compare and contrast throughout the passage of where the characters in HH are versus where their canon counterparts might be.

“Roses Are Falling” is, by Orville Peck’s own admission, a song about “loving someone so much you kind of want to kill them.” While I don’t think Badd and Garou have that kind of relationship, I think there’s some truth to the lyrics and this idea of being isolated together, which we also see in “Kansas Remembers Me Now” and “Big Sky”, the two other Orville Peck songs featured in this section.

Zenko’s a pretty safe topic for the boys to discuss. Badd can talk about her for hours on end, and Garou adores her. If they have one spot of common ground, it’s Zenko.

“Winning is fun,”

“She’s gonna pass you up soon,” Garou said.

“Losing is, too…”

Badd gave him a confused look.

“You know, in terms of athletic abilities.”

“Roses are fallin’, roses from fallin’ for you,”

Badd smacked Garou’s neck, feigning offense, but Garou saw the small smile on his face.

Slow dancing is incredibly intimate (even in a platonic setting. Platonic slowdances still require a lot of trust and vulnerability). Especially for two people grappling with unspoken feelings like these two idiots.

Garou definitely feels that tension at this point and tries to diffuse it in a way that’s worked for them in the past: by jokingly poking fun at Badd.

The lyrics here felt fitting to me. The two of them are highly competitive, but they’ve gotten to a point where just the act of being together is more important than winning. They kind of verbally spar for a lot of their relationship, but here we see them just enjoying each other’s company.

“Ooh…”  

The two swayed at an arm’s distance.

“The ache inside the hate–I found a way to sit and wait, and now I can’t: your voice–your face–without a trace–I’ll wait for you…”

“‘s awkward swayin’ this far apart,” Badd huffed.

He pulled Garou close enough that their noses almost touched.

For much of their friendship, Badd’s been the one acting as the initiator. He suggests the sleepover, he cooks for Garou, he introduces truth or dare, which becomes their coded language for opening up, etc. It makes sense for him to be the one to initiate here.

Garou in HH has pretty much the same backstory as he does in canon, he just didn’t go off the rails because he met Tareo earlier. But it was important to me to make sure the fact he still didn’t know how to interact/make friends his age was front and center. He doesn’t initiate many of the “friendship milestones” because he doesn’t know what to do. All this is new ground for him. 

The fact Badd even wants to be his friend is unprecedented and completely unexpected to him. 

Of course, this doesn’t mean he doesn’t initiate anything. He takes Zenko to school so Badd can heal, he meets Madame Oshitani, he asks Badd how he’s feeling and offers his ear when it’s clear something’s bothering him. 

Badd is very intentional about how he goes about interacting with Garou because he knows Garou’s never had a friend like him before. Garou by contrast, does things just to be helpful and worries about being a good friend/if he’s doing it right, not realizing he’s already being a good friend.

Garou’s normally so direct and unabashed, so having this spot where he’s more self-conscious and awkward is a fun reversal. And it’s pretty canon compliant given how he interacts with Tareo.

We see them kind of switch roles later, where Garou takes the lead during their orange chicken talk.

The lyrics here have two roles: it kind of mimics how I think their canon relationship could progress like I mentioned earlier (from hate to irritation to begrudging respect and love) but also shows their unspoken fear of what could happen in HH: they blow up and each becomes a face that the other can’t forget, but can’t go back to.

It’s not a fear that has gotten addressed super directly thus far, (we see a little bit in the upcoming chapter) the closest being the non-conversation the two have about what is left unsaid.

“Roses are fallin’ for you…”

The first thing Garou noticed was how good Badd smelled. Seems his sleep addled brain hadn’t been wrong after all.

Garou is in Gay Panic™ mode here. 

I described Badd in an earlier chapter as smelling like aftershave and freesia. I wanted to give him a smell that kind of combined his classic style with something gentler, and more sweet. 

Freesia is usually a smell in women’s perfumes, but it’s one I think he’d appreciate. And I don’t see him being one to give a fuck about gendering smells.

“You…”

Badd draped his arms around Garou’s neck and averted his gaze.

Garou watched in wonder as Badd’s lashes fluttered.

Up as close as he was and borderline drunk off how good Badd’s smelled, Garou stared unabashedly at his face.

He looked so, devastatingly beautiful.

Garou staring here is kind of a callback to the conversation they have early on about Garou ogling at Badd/Badd making fun of him for it.

There’s an openness here that’s different than the last time Garou really looked at Badd. Before, he was admiring him and his power. Here, we see him taking in a more delicate side of Badd, and Badd just letting him look at him. We’re seeing him take in Badd’s lashes, and calling him beautiful. It’s a new facet of who Badd is, and a new contradiction for Garou to grapple with: powerful, yet delicate.

If you’ve ever been with someone and you’re standing next to one another and you can see them staring at you from the corner of your eye and you keep pretending to look out at something in the distance because it’s easier than making eye contact and having to sort out what that gaze means, that’s essentially what is happening here.

Badd’s aware Garou’s staring at him, and he knows why. But he’s not ready to meet his gaze yet. Especially not if Garou himself isn’t ready.

“Under your skin, over the moon…”

He prayed Badd wouldn’t look up so he could continue to look at him.

“Don’t let me in, I don't know what I’d do…”

Because if Badd did, and Garou saw what he thought he would in Badd’s eyes, it would devastate him.

This is a callback to Garou refusing to make eye contact when he’s laughing about Badd’s indignation over pigeons because he knows whatever Badd’s gaze holds will devastate him. 

Garou equally fears the two ways it will devastate him. Either he looks up, sees the warmth in his gaze, and falls for Badd, only to find out his feelings aren’t reciprocated, or his feelings are, and he’s thrust into a new landscape to navigate that leaves him vulnerable and exposed, and threatens to tear apart their friendship.

In Ch.9/What’s Left Unspoken, I originally planned on having a metaphor that kind of embodied that second fear. Garou can almost picture a strand of spider silk connecting him and Badd. Something so delicate and new, that he almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because doing so would cosmically shift their dynamic, and if that thread got severed, it could threaten their whole relationship. I ended up cutting it because I couldn’t get the metaphor quite right and it brought the chapter to a standstill.

“Roses are fallin’, roses from fallin’ for you…”  

Badd began to turn his head, but before their eyes could meet, Garou looked away.

“Ooh…”

Garou could feel Badd’s gaze raking over him. From the corner of his eye, he saw his lips part.

Here we’re seeing that fear controlling Garou a bit. He doesn’t know what’s in Badd’s gaze, and he thinks if he avoids it, he can avoid the change in their dynamic all together. 

But some part of him wants to know, and is screaming for him to turn his head, potential consequences be damned. 

“You know, darling, you bring out the worst in me…”

Garou steeled his nerves and looked directly at Badd.

“Sometimes when I’m around you, I feel like pure evil…”

He’d been right. The tenderness he found in Badd’s eyes devastated him.

The second song line here is...very much how Garou views himself in canon, and to a lesser extent, in this AU.

He still hasn’t forgiven himself for what he might have done, and when he sees Badd, and his gentleness, kindness and optimism despite how the world has treated him and Zenko, it makes him question hero-dom more than he already does.

And we’re seeing Garou discover what is in Badd’s eyes. Garou has a harder time reading Badd than Badd does reading him, so what he finds in Badd’s eyes is unreadable to him, hence why the statement is left vague in terms of what he finds there.

“I guess they say nobody's perfect…”

Badd’s gaze flicked down to Garou’s lips.

“But they’ve never met a devil like you…”

The lyrics here feel spot on, especially to end the muscial interlude to. Garou knows Badd isn’t perfect and vise versa, but they still accept one another. The lyrics kind of foreshadow Badd and Garou’s heart to heart about why they think they’re bad people. 

Badd’s action here are really what solidify Garou’s understanding of what he’s seeing in Badd’s eyes. 

Before he realized what he was doing, Garou was leaning in, closing the small gap between them.

And when he sees the warmth there, and knows his feelings are reciprocated, he leans in, more intentionally taking the role of the initiator for the first time.

#hidden horns #meta

[9uk]

Don’t Wanna Fall pt.2

⌲ summary : after your boyfriend breaks up with you, you are in need of company. strangely enough, you get more company than you had initially wanted.

⌲ pairing : sugar daddy!seokjin x reader

⌲ word count : 4.5k

⌲ genre : fluff, smut

⌲ warnings : dry-humping, clit-orgasm

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His heart thumps against his chest, the heavy motion inevitably resounding in his ears. You are trying your best to lift your hands filled with stuff to gesture him to hurry come to the lift lobby to join you.

That moment of warmth.

Although it lasted for less than a second, Seokjin was more than sure the hug would stalk him to his sleep and creep into his dreams. A car honk in the distance snaps him out of his train of thoughts temporarily and he scurries his way over to you.

To be perfectly candid with himself, Seokjin did enjoy having your arms wrapped around him. A tad more than he wish he did.

He was never one who admires unnecessary affection from women. He thinks that they are here for solely two reasons—the sex and the money.  He didn't crave for anything more than that, not wanting to complicate matters by involving feelings. He thinks there wasn't a need to drag them along the line of false hope and then throw them into the gutter, long forgotten and never contacted again. It may sound cruel and objectifying to those ladies, like they were nothing more than sex dolls discarded after Seokjin has his way with them.

Seokjin is a man like that, a clown on the outside constantly spilling your laughter, making you feel like he's everything you've ever wanted, and wish to marry.

Then comes the worst part.

He spoils you with gifts that costs ten times your apartment, then he sugar coats you with words filled with honey and then at last—they lift you to reach the peak of the stairway to heaven and finally, when you are completely indulged in the utopia he has created for you with the endless wads of cash he owns—he would disappear from your bed without another spoken word, leaving only the lingering scent of his cologne and the many branded goods he gifted for you to reminisce about. Many of them try to drag the process for as long as they can, not wanting to hop on his dick too soon, feeding off his money like a starved leech. Because it is a common belief they all know about, the CEO never sleeps with the same woman twice.

Because that is also when their time is up—he tosses them into the garbage bin.

Brutal of him, definitely. But the clean-cut action keeps him void of any relevant emotions or feelings he knows he shouldn’t catch.

The topic is often discussed about in his office, outside his private office where the many murmurs pass tales to one another, spreading like wildfire throughout the whole floor, followed by the entire building.

Many have their doubts about said man acting this way to the women he bedded, for he remains the humorous and easygoing CEO that he was. Everybody who have met Seokjin would assuredly say that he is kind and thoughtful—certainly not a person who would treat women in this manner.

However, there is one factor which proves that the magnanimous boss himself, has a player side to his love life. But no one is to interfere with the head’s business or even worse, allow him to have a ear about the scandalous topics included in their morning chatters over cups of ready-made coffee.

That dreadful day, Seokjin enters a random café downtown where a woman patiently (17 missed calls) waits for his arrival. She goes by the name, Yoonji and whether that label was real or fake—he really couldn’t be bothered.

He was about to break the news to her, like he did to every other lady, just that Yoonji in particular was rather resilient in her pursuits.

He met her at a company dinner, his hormones getting the better of him when he spots her in a tight burgundy dress. They had a quickie in the toilet and after he reached his high, his mind cleared and he wished he hadn’t done that in the first place.

Looking as to how things have unfolded, he had rather indulge in the strokes of his palm than to stick his dick into a woman like that ever again.

Situated at the corner of the place was the shrew, and he instantly regretted sleeping with this one upon the sight of her furrowed brows and ugly frown plastered on her face. He silently berated himself for the rash decision made that night.

As she notices his presence, her expression switched a hundred and eighty degrees around and Seokjin was suddenly welcomed with a big fake beam on her face.

“Jin! What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here for hours...” The lack of honourifics ticked him off at the start, he eyes her warily. He does not recall her voice being this high-pitched, but whatever suits her.

Yoonji juts out her bottom lip, staring up at him with the best soft eyes she could manage to gain as much pity as she could to the waste of her precious time. Seokjin only blinks blandly at her whining, waiting for her to quit with the shenanigans.

But persistent, was she.

“Shall we go shopping?” Her eyes twinkle with anticipation of swiping all of his cards.

When she tries to cling onto his arm, Seokjin shrugs her hold off curtly and glares at her.

Seokjin detests those kind of women—the ones who stay for a long duration, trying to get the most out of him before they lose the chance to do so ever again. Yoonji seems like she hasn’t fully grasped the concept of the way he handles matters regarding women.

“I came here to inform you that from this second onwards, you and I have got nothing to do with each other.”

Her jaw drops and it almost felt like she hasn’t been properly offended by a man before.

He almost feels bad.

Almost.

“We had our fun and that was it. The first and last time.” He explains before muttering a quick and stern goodbye.

Yoonji is somehow unable to tolerate the embarrassment of being rejected in public, she snatches her purse from the seat and storms off, leaving a trail of fiery shame with every heavy click of her red pair of stilettos.

Now that she’s gone, he had might as well settle for a cup of coffee since he was here.

The staff at the cash register grows pink upon taking Seokjin’s order, stumbling on her words and unable to maintain proper eye contact with a man this beautiful. He darts his tongue out, hands propped on the edge of the counter as he decides his choice of beverage. A quick fix of iced coffee would usher his troubles about the company (and women) out of the door.

Just a small cup—he promises himself to order—would suffice in getting him through the rest of the day. The afternoon was reserved for an important shareholders meeting to discuss about certain issues regarding Kim Corporation, and Seokjin dreaded nothing more than that. That is also partially the reason why he agreed to leave the office to break things off with Yoonji, and in the mean time take a fresh breather from the hectic schedule of a CEO.

The absence of the fiery wrath from earlier on turned the ambience of the coffee place into much soothing one—the soft lights hanging from above, the addictive aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the peaceful music layering the chatters over tea. The noises coming from the bustling street just outside were blocked by the safe glass walls of the café, which further accentuated the calmness of the site.

Out of boredom, the receipt in his hands is folded twice into a neat square as Seokjin looks over to the people strolling across the concrete pavement located beside the outlet.

Clusters of ladies on a shopping trip with hands full of bags, groups of office workers heading back after a fulfilling session of lunch—his eyes linger on their forms with a tinge of envy. Rarely did Seokjin have any close friends to hang out with like everyone else, the most he could have would be a close associate of his, another big figure in the company Jisung. Jisung was one of the head directors in Kim Corporations, and they often went for a drink or two after hours. But that was it, and the most they discussed were about, sickeningly again—work matters.

He lost his personal life by dedicating so much time to his career.

“One iced Americano!”

The voice was loud yet adenoidal, jostling Seokjin away from his line of thoughts.

He strides over to the collection counter smoothly, charming demeanour fully intact as his wide shoulders portray him as a model on a runway. Everything he does attracts the attention of everyone—people start whipping their heads and uttering something under their breath, and girls smacking their friend’s arms in excitement of bumping into a man this good-looking— Seokjin knows the effect he has on people. Regardless of genders.

On a daily basis, Seokjin received treatment like a king. Heads would immediately bend when graced with his presence. A light press of a button would have his entire schedule sorted out. A simple phone call would bring many opportunities for huge figures to flood his account. A quick snap of his fingers would bring him the most delightful cup of coffee. Two and a half cube of sugar, and a teaspoon of milk. No more, no less—served with perfection.

Therefore, he is currently glaring at the barista, nose scrunched in dissatisfaction and eyebrows knitted with irritation.

Therefore, this is beyond unacceptable.

The cup of coffee looked like it had been tossed onto the counter, with no straws within reach and the liquid looking stale. He places the receipt onto the table and inspects the drink carefully, like it had been drugged.

The barista does not even spare him another glance, hand coming up to swipe the receipt off the counter and into a small bin, before proceeding to continue making orders for the next customers.

He’s about to open his mouth to let out a series of complains, but he realises the many pair of eyes trained on his figure as his hand is raised mid-air.

She busies herself with the next list of beverages to prepare, completely not minding the irate customer drumming his fingers onto the countertop lividly.

His fingers paused in the action abruptly.

It came to him like a hint used in a hidden object game, a brief yet distinct twinkle alerting his eyes of the well camouflaged feature.

There was something off about you—your swollen eyes and croaky voice, just the mere look of you would make one think that you’ve climbed out of the lowest pits of hell. Your eyes were hollow, from what seemed like a night’s worth of crying. You haven’t even remembered to provide him with a cup holder like they would always do for customers. A short hiss escapes your mouth as fast as it dies, the cup of hot coffee you were brewing slightly scalding the side of your thumb, causing you to flinch. This then, your co-worker steps in and shoves you to the cash register to take over cashier after she makes sure the burn was nothing grave. She mutters something into your ear, her face contorted in worry as she squeezes your arm for a bit before the both of you went about your businesses.

Prudently, he forgoes the confrontation, helping himself to a straw and heading out in silence.

Who would ever expect meeting the same person twice in such a short period of time?

A part of him told himself to grab the packet of mealworms off the shelf and leave; but another part of him nagged at him to step out of his comfort zone to buy you the pet you couldn’t afford. Looking back, he doesn’t regret his decision. There were not many people or things going on in his life that required him to spend his money on, so he had might as well use the sum of money rotting in his bank to help a soul in need. But of course, he could have invested that amount into a Thom Browne jacket but—it wouldn’t harm anyone to do some good in this world. Especially for somebody as wealthy as he is.

Because here you were, standing just across of him in the small of your dormitory.  

You noticed the way Seokjin crinkled his nose as he stepped through the front door, obviously displeased at the environment of the discussion.

Your feel your face grow red of embarrassment upon sudden realisation of how untidy and dirty your room was. There wasn’t even sufficient space for Snowball to settle down.

“I’m sorry,” You blabber out, as if the apology would improve the state of your room. “It’s just...I’ve never had the time to properly clean this mess up.”

He rubs his palms together, a plan seemingly forming in his head.

“Ah,” He hums with empathy. “You should move out of this shabby place.”

Seokjin suggests so easily, you can’t help but knit your brows at his bold assumption that you could even afford the rent here. Or a new apartment, at the very least.

But before you could even voice your destitution, the next thing that comes out of that mouth of his leaves you utterly shocked.

“I’ll buy an apartment for you to live in. Near the campus and luxurious. How does that sound?”

A positive shock.

Seokjin looks so collected as he says this, like he was offering to purchase a pack of candies for you and not a god damn apartment.

Your eyes can’t help but widen in temptation, hand itching to feel if this man was even real. You raise your brows and tilt your head, giving him a moment to take back what he had just said. Or hurry fill the stunned silence with a “just kidding”.

“But,”

But of course, there isn’t any free lunch in this world.

“There are rules.” In some way or another, his voice lowers an octave and his expression switches completely to a cold, demeaning one. There was no trace of humour on his face and you could tell he was serious about this whole ordeal. You gulp, grip tightening on Snowball’s cage as you look at him with a baited breath.

What he does next catches you off-guard.

Seokjin takes a step closer to you, hand reaching for the cage you were holding. Gently, he wraps his fingers around yours causing you to slightly flinch away from his sudden touch. You then realise his intentions when he tugs the handle towards himself and you quickly release your grasp, allowing him to carry it for you.

He chuckles at your tense form and mused, “Why are you so sensitive? It’s making me wonder about things.” The Seokjin from the car trip has returned, but this time there’s a small twist in his tone. Like...he was teasing you.

You hurriedly blurt out an explanation.

“S-Sorry, I don’t know. I just-”

"It’s fine. I understand how you feel.”

What? No, he didn’t. He was spoiling you so much and treating you to too many things that you were growing suspicious of his motive and the rules that were never mentioned.

It wasn’t like it was unsettling with him, you knew he wouldn’t dare do anything dangerous to you because somehow you trusted him.

His looks. Did it have anything got to do with his handsome features?

God, how fucked up could you be? It was like you entirely forgotten the story of the wolf beneath the sheep’s clothing.

Or it must be the change in his personality. Just minutes ago, the both of you were bickering and giggling over his dumb riddles. But right now, the hidden aim he had was slowly crawling its way to the top of the water, no longer buried deep in the beds.

“No, you don’t.” You disagree. “It’s not because you’re too good-looking.” Well it partially is, but you won’t admit it to encourage his sky high pride.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this for me. Previously, I felt apologetic for what I had said about you at the shop, so I decided to follow your wishes to not agitate you any further.” Snowball has finished her carrot snack and fidgets around, causing the cage to rattle in his hand. “Is there something you need from me?” You don’t get him at all. How can one just provide you with everything without asking for anything in return? You were trying to be cautious about his huge burst of kindness towards you. His offers made you feel like you owe him something, and you didn’t fancy the feeling at all.

“Honestly, all I wanted to do was buy you this rabbit because you looked so sad.” He provides you with an explanation succinctly. This man was nothing but truthful when it came to his feelings. But how had he known that you were feeling down? Had he been observing you?

Things between the both of you did not transpire like what Seokjin predicted.

Unlike the many other women he met, you were blunt and skittish at the same time, which he found rather intriguing. You did not show any sort of desire to get closer to him or fawn over his dashing appearance despite knowing how loaded he was. You had even said that you wouldn’t even fall for someone like him. Instead of getting infuriated over your insult, he felt fired up. Like you were a challenge and it made the situation turn way more exciting. All he wanted to do was buy you the rabbit as a kind gesture and leave, but there is clearly a turn of events.

“But since you asked,” Seokjin plops Snowball’s home onto the top of your mattress. “All I need from you is you.”

“Me?” The question bounces off your lips immediately in return.

In a blink, he slides his fingers past your face and through your hair, palm lightly cupping your jaw. His other hand finds home at the small of your waist, successfully pulling you flush against his body—the bags of pet necessities falling to the ground with a loud thud.

“Yes, princess.” He holds your waist in such a possessive manner, you can’t help but squirm a bit under his harsh grip. “You.” Seokjin reassures and lifts

you up onto your study desk, body coming in to spread your legs. “Seokjin!” You squeaked in surprise and rest your hands on his shoulders for support. They felt amazing to the touch. It was obvious he worked out from the mere feel of his broad shoulders under the white dress shirt.

You helplessly blush hard at the position, skirt hiked up and thighs apart with Seokjin in between. He grabs you by the waist, locking you in place and you witness his pupils fill a shade darker.

“Rule number one. You are only allowed to address me as Sir or...” He looks to the side, a little embarrassed to meet your gaze as he says the following name. “...Daddy.”

You blinked at him cluelessly. You have never experienced anything close to this before. Now you know where this was going, you didn’t want to stop. He was a perfect distraction, a means you can use to relax. He was not forcing you into anything harmful. The dominance he had over you was overpowering and you feel yourself only nodding to whatever he demanded.

He slaps the side of your thigh, “Answer me, princess.”

“I understand...Daddy.” The words slip from your mouth, foreign as ever. But there’s something about calling Seokjin that, that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together. He lets out a throaty groan at that, satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips. “God princess, you really do want to please me, don’t you?” He runs his hands along your thighs and occasionally explore the inner sides of them, making you feel a little but just not enough.

“You haven’t finished telling me about your rules,” You remind him, slightly above a whisper. If sex was what he wanted in exchange for all these purchases, you are more than willing. Maybe he would be that someone who could top Jungkook’s ways in bed.

Seokjin was about to explode. Having you legs spread, breathing ragged on the desk, willing to give him anything he wanted from you. Usually, the women he messed with try their hardest to seduce him, agree to pleasure him the way he wanted and gave too much to the point where he grew sick of it. He clearly felt the unhappiness buried beneath their pretence when he wouldn’t go down on them. He couldn’t imagine just how many dicks their pussies have interacted with. But you, you still kept your hands intact on his shoulders, not wanting to make a move unless he did so. Your hands did not fly to his zipper and palm him through his crotch automatically like every other girl would do so—that’s why he finds himself craving you to do just that to him more than ever. Maybe someone like you...so pure and innocent, elevated the fervent desire to devour you. You were driving him crazy by both your perfect obedience and reservation. He decided to test the waters.

“Rule number two, don’t do anything unless I ask you to.” Seokjin wished to see how far you are willing to go to abide by his rules, and be the best girl for him. At that, your hands instantly fall from his shoulders and your thighs stopped squeezing together. He found himself missing your touch more than he expected. He was the king of control when it came to these kind of things so why is he so flustered-

“Anything else, Daddy?” You look at him with questioningly. Anything for that house and rabbit.

“Rule number three,” He continues nonetheless, recovering from the weird sparkles twinkling in his heart.

“No strings attached. You live your life and I will live mine. Only I am able to call you and not the other way round.” He gleams at this rule and proud of how he had said it so confidently, ascertain his dominance would reappear.

“Sure, let’s just go with that.” Does this mean there is some kind of agreement between the both of you? He buys you things and you would pleasure him in return. You weren’t looking for anything that required commitment and exclusiveness, and you could get your cunt filled every now and then. It was a win-win situation.

“Rule number four, don’t screw around with other guys.” If he wanted to do this, he wanted to do it right. He didn’t want any other dick coming close to the pussy he owns. “I’m good with that.” You wouldn’t even have time to do so, considering the pile of work assigned to you every week.

Fuck, were you for real? Seokjin cannot deny the surprise he felt at your compliance and your lack of care for exclusivity.

“Kiss me.” He suddenly commands, not quite sure why he had done that either. Perhaps it was the way you somehow never fail to make his heart flutter with this little gestures.

Without holding back and following his orders like he mentioned, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips close to yours. Close, but not touching yet. There is a split second of the both of you just looking into each other’s eyes, like he was the only thing that mattered and you were all he ever wanted at that moment. You swear he lets out a shaky exhale before you are colliding your lips with his, staying there for a while before you proceed with your ministrations. It turned into little pecks and he feel him pull you closer to him by the waist. Eyes closed, the both of you relish in the feeling of having your mouths connected and tongues slowly making an appearance.

You wonder how long he wants to be kissed because Seokjin never stops, savouring every last bit of your mouth, allowing your wet muscle to explore his teeth as he gently sucks on it. You can tell that he’s enjoying it as well, eyes shut tight and drowning in the motions of your lips, the squelching sounds intensifying the kiss. It feels great, to be kissed in this manner after so long—the need he has for you burning a hole in the pit of your stomach.

Finally, he pulls away reluctantly and you don’t miss the dark shade of red coating his cheeks, lips swollen and eyes a haze—all from one kiss. You know you don’t look any better than him, the numbing sensation on your lips sparks a clear desire for the man standing before you.

You can feel his erection pressed against your core and he is not one to be shameful of an occurrence like that, instead he presses against you harder—the tip hitting your clit so accurately and eliciting a moan to spill from your lips.  He seems to be amused by your reaction, and realises he almost forgot about how sensitive you are. Seokjin takes it as a green light and keeps rutting against your damp panty-clad heat, the both of you enjoying the friction provided between your clothes. You would want to strip and ride his cock till he blanks out, but you figured the dry-humping would suffice.

 His eyebrows furrow in concentration, using the tent in his pants to focus on making you whine in pleasure. Every time he glides past your clit, you would let out a soft moan, hands laid on the desk supporting your crumbling self. With a circle furiously rolled onto your nub with his thumb, you are surging forward and collapsing into his arms, allowing the orgasm to wash away gradually.

You need him, and that’s exactly what he wanted from you—and you are so ready to give him everything he wished for.

“I’ll call you,” is all he leaves you with after asking for your number, exiting your room with a clear bulge in his slacks. You are left on the desk with your panties soaked and legs trembling, eyes falling onto Snowball—who was thankfully fast asleep already.

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