#hes shaped by his experiences but refuses to let them define him

[phatcatphergus]

Hi, you reblogged me with a lore dump about Q! Tubbo and you mentioned that you'd be willing to do a character analysis? Please, I'm invested at this point

Ahhhhh omg hi! I can't believe you came back for more lol. You shall soon be a qtubbo stan like the rest of us.

I do want to preface this by saying that this is my personal lore interpretation so it's subjective. So many people have great analyses of his character, so I recommend watching a couple streams or looking at the tag for a broad scope as well!

That being said...

I think the best word to describe qtubbo is loss.

He was brought to the island having already lost parts of himself he didn't know. Through his time on the island, he lost respect, credibility, friends, family, teammates, nieces and nephews, penpals, godkids, mentors, and himself. He never had something he didn't end up losing, whether by choice or force. He loses what matters most to him, yet he continues giving his all to everyone he meets.

He came to the island with loss and no sense of who he was or where he came from, yet he spent all of his time for the benefit of others. He worked day and night so that other people wouldn't experience the loss of what he could prevent such as items or supplies. He never wanted anyone to experience what he experienced, even when they were the ones perpetuating it.

No one ever cared about him unless it was for a reason. His relationships were transactional and needed to be because who would ever care for someone with no firm sense of self or where you came from? When he couldn't provide a transaction of care, he made himself useful, he became indispensable so that even if people didn't like him for him, they could use his skills until they didn't need him anymore.

The only time he actually felt that someone cared for him, just to care about him, was Fred. Fred had no emotions, no sense of self, and no past to speak of. Fred was someone who had no reason to hate or use Tubbo because Fred was like Tubbo. Fred was the first person who could care for Tubbo because he wanted to, and not because of his use or someone's sense of responsibility.

Losing Fred meant losing the one person who cared about him without strings attached. Anyone else only cared about him because he was useful, a leader, an engineer, a neighbor, a business partner, a babysitter, someone to steal from, or just someone to poke fun at. Until Sunny.

With Sunny, Tubbo knew better than to expect her to stay with him. He learned from his past that he doesn't deserve something as wonderful as Sunny, that he can only love and wait until she is ripped away too. If he wasn't good enough to keep Fred, why on earth would he be even partially enough for Sunny.

He mourned her loss the day he got her. He knew he wasn't the best for her, he wasn't anywhere close to what Sunny deserved, but he did his best regardless and loved her more than life itself. Sunny became his tether and the only reason for him to stay alive. Sunny needed him like he needed Sunny. Sunny was the only reason he kept himself alive after Fred's funeral. Through the jeers, through the belittlement, through the disregard for his feelings, Sunny was there and provided him with enough purpose to keep going.

Fit and Pac dating made his only sense of security start to crumble. The two people he figured would stick by his side were moving along without him. They wouldn't need him in their life because they would need each other. They don't need his friendship anymore, his usefulness has worn itself out. He doesn't see them extending a hand to him as they step forward because he's too focused on the empty voids in his past where others should be.

He tries to break them up, and even if they hate him, he can rationalize that he did it for the right reasons. They may hate him but they're stuck with him, kicking and screaming by his side. Everyone tells him that he needs to find Fred, that he's projecting his romantic life onto theirs. In reality, he is too scared of leaving the island the exact way he started, with nothing to his name and no one by his side.

His character is such a battle between what he wants to do and what he feels that he needs to do. His entire run through purgatory was fighting others for eggs that weren't even his. He spends his days working on projects for other people and picking apart his failures when others can only see his success. He works tirelessly so that Sunny won't ever understand what it's like to be underestimated, beaten down, mischaracterized, and alone. Even if the world is against them, he will be in her corner to fight until his dying breath.

He loves so deeply and so purely. He tries to compensate for the lack of it that he has received after giving it away to whoever asks. He is depressed, anxious, and on alert. He has gone through trials and events with his head high and carrying the weight of others on his shoulders. He loves and he gives and continues to even when the people he gives his love to throw it to the side.

He has people in his corner, but his fear of them leaving has already made them vanish in his mind. He's a killer and a father. An engineer and a friend. A penpal and an adversary. He is loss and he is love.

#He is so complex and deep that its hard to put into words sometimes #hes shaped by his experiences but refuses to let them define him #he would rather throw himself on a blade for you then let you do something for him #he doesnt believe that hes enough for sunny but tries anyway #he is a tragedy and a comedy #I hope this makes sense #anyone that wnats to add something please feel free #everyone has a different take on him and that's so awesome #i am running on 3 hours of sleep and a dream rn so this may just be word soup #tubbo #qsmp tubbo #qsmp #qsmp character analysis #asks #I also may make a post about qtubbo and how he relates to being in your 20s at some point bc that's definitely something I've thought of

[densitywell]

Orympost I dare you. Consider me the sick fuck egging you on

me reading this ask

ok so. i love Orym so much and I truly have too many thoughts abt him to be contained in one post so let's just start with the trauma, the thing that defines Orym not just as a character but also discursively. this discussion often feels very surface level, not much more than a simple acknowledgment that Orym is sad bc dead family. which is a shame, bc the thing that really strikes me about Orym's grief is not simply that he has it but how deeply it has shaped him, consumed him. the death of his family often gets used as a reason no one should ever challenge him on anything ever, which is an incredibly unproductive and unhealthy way to view trauma, and also obscures the much more compelling and poignant truth; Orym is absolutely not handling his trauma productively or healthily. i have made a meme to further express my feelings on the matter.

so, i remember quite well the first time i watched Orym's resurrection in episode 34.

when he sees Will in the afterlife and says, the most sincere he's ever sounded (and he is so sincere all the time), "I really wish I could stay." and in that moment i realized; oh, Orym would rather be dead right now. Orym would rather be dead right now, because it would mean he got to be with Will and Derrig.

another moment i think about a lot: when he's talking with Uther, a member of the Gorgynei, in episode 42, about naming his sword and about their times traveling, and Uther says: "it's nice to have a home finally, after traveling for a long time. i hope you and your friends can find a home, or return to the ones you have."

and Orym says: "I'll think of a name [for his sword]."

it's a fun kind of synergy that Orym is a dex based character who is also, emotionally, so slippery and avoidant. always deflecting. he's defined by his steadfastness in battle and his stubborn refusal to change outside of it. it's notable how stagnant Orym felt, as a character, up until the Issylra arc. very intentionally so; he's likely been in a state of paralysis for much of the last 6 years. he really wishes he could stay. i don't think he's accepted that he can't.

or that there's reasons not to: of all of the many Orym moments i think about all of the time, the one i think about by far the most is his conversation with the Wildmother, all the way back in EXU, when she tells him, so lovingly:

"There is so much I would have you see."

that, more than anything, is the line that defines Orym to me. you can see glimpses of it, in his love for the Hells, his amazement when he's dancing with the spirits or watching Ashton blow 200 gold gambling; on the other hand, in his refusal to really engage with the gods debate (as stated by Liam himself) or his continued discomfit with some of his friend's oddities. there is so much world, so much beauty, so much love still out there for Orym to experience, if he would simply let himself. revenge is nice, i hope he gets it, but it will simply never be enough. it will not give him the capacity to love fully again, and if he gets the revenge and not the love he will end up empty, hallowed out, leading a life always wishing he could be somewhere else.

right now he's regressing, reduced down to nothing but that painful wound, abandoning even so much of his kindness and reason. the hells can help, and they should and they will, because they have so much love to give. but Orym will have to open himself up to it, to them, first. i really hope he does!!

#orym of the air ashari #critical role #cr #he is so sad!! i don't know if you all understand how sad this little man is!!! #orym cr #okay i hope this all flows decently i can simply not look at it any more. downloading bg3 as we speak #long post / #wavebiders #thank you for this excuse to throw a small section of my many many feelings abt orym into the ether!! #crposting

[blueskittlesart]

ooo i’m here for another google doc essay thesis on all the zelda trans narratives <33 lol cited sources and everything (if you have time of course, i love reading all of your headcanons on loz)

god. okay this is every mainline game ive played (excluding sequels with the same characters) except skyward sword because i forgot about it at first and now im tired. here

oot/mm

Basically the entirety of oot is a super-intense wartime coming-of-age story, dealing specifically with the trauma of losing one’s childhood to war/being a child in wartime. Any coming-of-age can be easily analyzed through a trans lens imo, but oot lends itself particularly well to this reading.

For the first nine years of his life, link is told that he is a kokiri. He spends all of his childhood trying desperately to fit in with the kokiri, even though he and the kokiri he grows up with can tell that he is out of place somehow. When he leaves the forest and grows up, it clicks into place that he was never kokiri. And it HURTS. He was lied to. But he suddenly finds himself BELONGING for the first time, among hylians. One of the most impactful npcs in the series is, imo, malon, who link bonds with, feels connected to, and who GROWS UP just like him. She is a representation of everything link gains by leaving the forest. The chance to grow up, and the chance to be among people like himself and understand for the first time who he truly is. 

I don’t think i have to explain the subtext i'm getting at here. Replace kokiri with gender-at-birth and you have yourself a trans story. 

There are also, of course, points to be made about link’s lack of bodily autonomy throughout the story and his reclamation of it in mm. Link is, in the eyes of basically every adult in oot, a pawn to be used to win a war. He is something to be molded into the shape THEY need him to be. This is a common conflict in loz--the hero NEEDS to be the hero, and so he is given no room to define himself otherwise. 

Again. Do i have to explain the trans reading of this?? Adults who feel entitled to you for whatever reason refusing to let you define yourself in a way that doesn’t appeal to them, and viewing you as an object to be shaped into THEIR perfect image. Classic trans kid experience. 

Zelda i think is even more obvious because she literally physically transes her gender in the game. For no reason. A female ninja would have been fine. Female ninjas exist in this world. Impa is the obvious example. Zelda became a boy because he wanted to be a boy. This is factual, canonical story. I dont even NEED to go on but i WILL because i can.

The subtextual reading of trans zelda is even more fun imo. This is a kid who grew up functionally powerless. She KNEW ganon was going to destroy hyrule but she could not make adults hear her, and when things went wrong it was her fault. Sheik is, in many ways, a rejection of zelda. She does away with the ancestral name denoting wisdom because she was not wise enough to save her kingdom from ruin. he chooses sheik instead, a name derived from the historic guardians of hylia, and by extension hyrule. he reclaims the power he lost by, again, defining himself where he was never allowed to before. 

Personally i consider oot zel to be nonbinary and use she/he and the names sheik and zelda interchangeably. I really love the idea of a kid who grew up with so little control over anything in her life taking it all back and then deliberately fucking with some established rules anyway, just as a little show of power now that he has it. It’s what she deserves. 

Alttp

A LOT of my reading in this is totally rooted in subtext/analysis rather than actual canon material. If you haven’t read my analysis of alttp in my analysis doc i suggest you do bc some of that context may be needed to explain what i say here, since alttp is an older game so there’s much less actual canon characterization to go off of. 

There is a moment in this game, once you have gone through several dungeons and claimed the master sword and fought the secondary antagonist twice, where link is transported into the dark world. A mirror dimension in which his human form is distorted into a form that “reflects his inner self.” He looks into the mirror and he does not recognize the person looking back at him. 

The form he takes is a rabbit, which is, in my opinion, a reflection of his inner fear and the fact that he doesn’t want to be a hero. This link is a young boy who basically loses the only family he has and is then instantly thrown into the midst of a conflict he doesn’t fully understand. 

There are two points to be drawn from this. The first is the distorted self-image revealed in the dark world, which. The connection to transgenderism should probably be obvious from here. I’d say looking in the mirror and not quite recognizing yourself is a near-universal trans experience. 

The second is that, although this game is much less obvious about it, this link is in a very similar situation to oot link, in that he has been thrown into a conflict he doesn't understand and doesn’t really have any stake in, in order to be used as a pawn to win a war. (worth noting that if we follow the timeline, oot link has to DIE for this game to happen. They never fucking learn ig) so we have a repeat of the same situation in which link’s autonomy is taken from him by adults who want him to be a hero. Ive already explained the trans reading of this. You get the idea

Im skipping zelda in this one because it came out in 1991 so zelda is barely a character. Shes trans because i say so. Next 

Tp

Twilight princess did not do very well on a multitude of things. We all know how i feel. HOWEVER. There is something to be said for the fact that when link approaches people in wolf form they recoil in fear and disgust. And he canonically doesn’t expect this. It disturbs him. He KNOWS these people. He’s still the same person inside. Nothing has changed for him except the way he looks. But now no one will so much as look at him. 

To be quite honest. The wolf form was a bit of a thematic L in my opinion. I don’t think it had much narrative purpose and my best guess is that it was there to give tp a “brand-new fun gameplay” draw. But the fact that everyone is TERRIFIED of you was a good choice imo. I wish it had been followed through on thematically but I digress. There is transgenderism here. When you go back to your hometown and nothing has changed, as far as you’re concerned, but people avoid your eyes now. You haven’t changed, not really. You just look a little different. But the people either hate you or don’t recognize you now, and in some ways you’re glad, but in other ways you feel… alien.  

Zelda also isn’t a real character in this game but it doesn’t get an excuse because it came out in fucking 2006. We knew women were people by then guys come on. Anyways shes also trans because i say so. I dont feel like thinking about twilight princess any longer lol sorry

Ww

Im going to start with zelda/tetra here because i have a lot more to say about her lmao

Tetra is a wild, loud, stubborn, angry pirate. She is the exact opposite of what your average hylian might imagine a goddess-blood princess to be. She’s rude, she’s volatile, she looks out for herself and no one else. This is an image she has curated. But she is also kind. She lets link on her ship when he begs her to help him save his sister. she slips him a good-luck charm before he storms the fortress. She takes aryll home and never asks for payment. She is a pirate, but she does these things that seem so strangely… at odds with herself. I think a lot of her tough exterior is a curated image, for the benefit of her crew, yes, but also herself. If she is stubborn and loud and angry and unlikable then she is less likely to get hurt.  

Tetra learns who she is, and she is suddenly a new person, a different person. She’s zelda. And she’s so CONFUSED. She tries her hand at being a princess. She sits and waits patiently for her hero to come back to her. But in the end, she can’t even do THAT right. Things go wrong again, all because of her.

During the final battle of this game, zelda fights alongside you with the bow of light. I believe this was one of the first games in which she does this. 

This is a nonbinary narrative. Tetra tries so hard to fit into one box or the other, princess or pirate, but can never quite master either. During the final confrontation, though, she finds a happy medium. She is kind, wise zelda, in her regalia with her hair untied, but she is also stubborn, angry tetra drawing her bow to fight alongside link. She will not be defined. 

she/they tetra ftw lol. anyways

Wind waker link honestly has much less textual evidence for me than like. Any other link because imo wind waker is almost completely a clear-cut coming-of-age. It’s very easy to read (almost) any coming-of-age as a trans narrative but much less easy to actually explain that read. 

My stance kind of boils down to this: link has a clear-cut arc of growth in this story from a weak, inexperienced kid into a soldier who is capable of taking on ganon. This arc is kickstarted by him leaving home and no longer being confined by the limited perspectives of the people he grew up around. Unlike other links, this one doesn’t have too much pressure on him to be a hero. In fact, I would consider his growth into a hero to be framed very positively in this game as it gives him the agency he lacked at the beginning. This is an interesting departure from most other games in which link lacks a lot of agency. 

Basically, i think that while most other games can be read as kind of… tragic trans stories, about the struggles of not being allowed to define yourself, etc, wind waker link is the story of a kid who is finally GETTING to define himself. It’s more similar to Majora's mask in that way, in that this kid has already HAD the chapter where he’s confined to other people’s expectations and is now beginning to break out of it and reclaim his own identity. 

Botw

Jesus. God almighty. Okay

Like. not to keep beating a dead horse but this link is the most obviously negatively affected by the expectations and perceptions of those around him. He explicitly goes mute BECAUSE he knows people expect him to be a hero above all else, and it will be easier to conform to that expectation if he keeps quiet. This poor boy is so terrified to be imperfect, to be something that hyrule might not like, that he SHUTS DOWN. he is essentially nothing BUT what hyrule wanted him to be, because he never allowed himself to be anything else. 

I have already explained the trans read of this. Reread ocarina of time’s segment. Holy SHIT. he is so transgender. Also he’s 5’2 and has shoulder-length hair come on

Side note but i think botw is cool because it explores BOTH facets of the usual loz narrative (lack of agency/reclamation of agency) within the same game, while most other games go for one or the other. When link loses his memories he is FORCED to define himself, as he has nothing to go on anymore, which is a reclamation of the agency he had lost pre-calamity. Essentially pre-calamity is the oot segment and post-calamity is the mm segment of the narrative. It’s cool. Anyways

Zelda. GOD.

She is not the daughter her father wanted. She knows this. She tries SO HARD for SO LONG to be the daughter her father wanted. But she can’t. She will never be good enough in his eyes. Eventually she gives up on doing exactly what he wants. She hopes she can win his approval in other ways, with things she is good at. Things she CAN do right. But it’s never enough for him because all he sees is the daughter he wanted. The daughter she should have been. He doesn’t care that she can’t. He only cares that she Is Not. she knows she will never win his approval but she keeps trying anyway. 

Do i really need to explain this. Babygirl you are so trans gender

#if this doesnt auto-compress i am so sorry. this was 5 pages in google docs btw i am insane #zelda analysis #asks #THE FORMATTING. SHIT #i swear this was originally readable guys idk why the formatting is fucked

[idliketobeatree]

I am begging ALL OF YOU, Good Omens fans, to listen to this song by Jesca Hoop (a lovely American singer-songwriter and guitarist), from the album "Memories are Now", released in 2017.

The Coming, huh? What a funny coincidence, right? Almost like the Second Coming?

And then it starts like this:

The song is dark and poignant, but more importantly - it is written almost like someone was plotting for a possible season 3. It's actually uncanny, how much it fits.

A quick artist background check: The narrator mirrors Hoop's struggles with religion. Raised traditional Mormon, she grew up singing hymns, and at 16 years old she lost her faith and stopped attending church. She describes the experience as freeing: she has "faith in people".

Overall, it's all too easy to imagine the narrator as Aziraphale, but we'll get back to that in a moment.

Let's focus on Jesus first. Analogically, in the song, he loses faith in himself, and refuses both Heaven and Earth to fulfill the prophecy. Jesus makes an interesting choice of alliance; he sits by the Devil. In a fit of desperation? fatigue?-- asks the advocate of Hell to help him become someone new. There's something beautiful about them being familiar, sitting arm in arm, almost friendly in the exchange. Jesus "was tempted for forty days by the Devil" (Luke 4:2), and he firmly refused then, but he goes back now: to his only salvation left.

The Devil doesn't get much characterisation, but we know he agreed to the terms. "The coming never came."

Now, back to the narrator. They're quite honest and self-aware of their role as an obeying servant to Jesus or/and God (as in Holy Trinity). In a world full of sinners it's necessary to keep people at bay, because not everyone can be saved. There's "only enough room at his table (...)/And they're coming to shut the gate/You're too little and too late". A strong implication of humans being a nuisance, a collateral damage in God's plan.

"But I don't buy it."

You see, the narrator has a strong motivation that they mention almost immediately after realising that -- good people are not getting in through the gate.

The best friend. We can assume she's someone very dear, and probably not that involved in religion. She doesn't deserve damnation, obviously. (Hello, Crowley.) Nobody does. Heaven doesn't really care about that.

The point is: they don't want to offer to save her anymore. Playing God's hand in this relationship would be an insult, condescending and belittling to her character. It's easy to be a soldier with nameless people, isn't it? Personal connections make all the difference.

There's also a little passage about not blaming your parents for "clinging to the good", which hits another personal note on the forgiving front.

The narrator is terrified of losing their sense of identity. It's a painful and slow process. Who are they, without the religion? How to fill the God-shaped hole in the heart, where it has grown large and uncomfortable, been there for ages?

The answer is: with other people.

The collective work of humanity on the matter of free will has an major impact on Earth. Our little choices contribute to the goodness as a whole, and it's not dictated nor defined by Heaven. No, it's all our doing. And we can make it a good place without religion.

Oh, and look at this. "Asking any kind of question could unravel me with one small fray"?

Pretty self-explanatory.

The song ends on an accusatory tone - at the religious figures who are mistakenly interpreting Jesus's teachings, justifying their fear-turned-hatred and "wrongdoings in his name". The narrator is scared personally, but outright - they're furious. Unable to ignore the horrifying unfairness of it all. The wars were never the intention of Jesus. He wouldn't sign another contract for massive destruction.

As a confirmation, there's a loop, a repeating of the first verses. The coming didn't came. Jesus is no longer a passive marionette on the strings of Heaven. He gives away the thorn crown - a symbol of his suffering for humanity's sins - and refuses to collaborate. He becomes an individual, maybe a different entity altogether. Needs some help from Hell, sure, but it works out in the end. No more wars. No more Heaven deciding who is worth it, and who isn't. It's just-- people, and their everyday lives.

If that isn't THE song synopsis for season 3, I don't know what is.

#whoops #good omens meta #good omens #the second coming #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 meta #i latched onto this song like a baby duckling and decided to make it everyone else's problem #good omens s3 #good omens s3 predicitons #jesca hoop #jesus (good omens) #aziraphale #aziraphale meta #music #my posts #Spotify #heaven (good omens) #God (good omens) #tw: religion #tw: religious themes #good omens 2 #good omens analysis #jesus christ

[sharkneto]

What would be Number’s reaction to learning Reginald is an alien?

You know, I've thought a bit about what he'd think about learning he's not totally human, but I hadn't thought about the Reggie angle.

I think it's a bit of information he legitimately wouldn't know what to do with. Like, as Klaus would point out, it makes perfect sense - how could a man like that be anything but inhuman? But Five has such a specific and complicated relationship with Reggie - he's both huge and tiny in his mind. This figure that's defined so much of his childhood and shaped who he is, that he's set himself in opposition to. It's important to him and his identity that he's classified Reggie as "just a man" and a shitty father. Now you introduce that part of why he's been so uncaring and pragmatic and cold is because he legitimately isn't human? Sure, they joked about it as kids, but this still comes from fucking left field. How the fuck do you react when your father figure and abuser turns out to be a goddamn alien? It's a messy, messy thing he'd have to process -- or not process. I think it's a thing he'd say "doesn't matter" if any of the siblings asked him - he was still shit, wasn't he? He doesn't get a pass just because he's an alien - while he spirals a little bit trying to figure out what that means for what his relationship with him is/was.

Anyway, bonus snip of the angle I've thought about this from in regards to Five finding out he's not exactly fully human himself, featuring some creative liberties with how genetics works.

Amanda looks up from her laptop with a frown as McKenzie plops into the seat next to her with a noisy sigh. The Union bustles around them, the other students oblivious to ‘Kenzie’s apparent bad mood. “You good?” she asks, turning back to her paper that refuses to write itself.

“My experiment didn’t work.”

She looks up again, eyes widening in sympathy. “The big genetics one? The one worth half your grade?”

“That would be the one!” McKenzie says, slouching in her chair and letting her head fall back dramatically.

“Oh my god, what are you going to do—”

“I mean, it mostly worked. I had enough data to do it all and present but one sample was totally fucked and my TA couldn’t figure out what was wrong so my statistical accuracy was—”

Amanda smacks her arm. “I thought you fucking failed!”

McKenzie rolls her eyes. “Who do you think I am? I got extra samples just in case one got fucked so I wouldn’t be fucked. And I’m choosing to believe it was one you got for me from someone at the physics lab. I know I swabbed right, I got good cells.”

The crisis not the crisis Amanda thought it was, she relaxes. “Maybe you fucked your reagents,” she defends, although she’s not a biologist and it is entirely possible her favor for her friend is what messed up the experiment. Cells are tiny and alive and so outside of her interests, she doesn’t know what they need to be happy or whatever. She jammed swabs into the boys’ cheeks at the lab, shoved those into the tubes ‘Kenzie gave her, and then delivered them.

“I did the same thing for each sample, boom, boom, boom, assembly line style. If I fucked that part they’d all be fucked and I would have actually failed.”

She shrugs. “Well, sounds like we’re going out tonight either way, celebrating the end of that project from hell.”

Her friend straightens with a coy grin. “You know me so well. Juan’s has fishbowls tonight.”

“I cannot do fishbowls again, I almost died the last time we went there. If I even think about that shitty margarita I’m going to hurl…”

It’s not until Amanda has returned to her paper (that still tragically hasn’t written itself) and McKenzie has left to find a snack to munch on around distracting her that she realizes there might actually be a further implication to McKenzie’s failed experiment sample.

She sampled the boys at the lab.

Which included a certain person who can do the fucking impossible and teleport.

“Paper so boring it melted your brain?” McKenzie asks as she returns and breaks Amanda from her thoughts. She drops a basket of fries between them.

“How was your sample fucked?” Amanda asks.

She frowns. “Since when do you care about bio? It’s not theoretical, so you don’t care.”

“Maybe I want to defend my honor as a sample-taker.”

McKenzie acquiesces with a shrug. “It didn’t amplify right. All the others had bands in the right spot in the gel, which makes sense because every human on Earth has the gene, but this one’s band was like six hundred base pairs bigger. The primer was scuffed for the PCR or the sample was degraded or some shit so it went weird.” She pauses. “Although then it should have been nothing or smaller, not larger, if it was falling apart…”

“What’s the gene responsible for?”

Her friend raises an eyebrow at her, a fry paused in the air on its way into her mouth. “Who are you, caring about genetics? You usually glaze over when I’m talking about this stuff, like how I nod along and think about Love Island when you and Taylor get into physics crap.”

Amanda shrugs, hoping it’s nonchalant enough. “Your experiments usually work, I’m curious.”

McKenzie sighs. “Whatever, I never get to talk about this shit, and it’s really cool. It codes for proteins involved in cell maintenance and DNA repair. So if it wasn’t user error on the sample, which it had to be because it’s a super conserved mechanism across the animal kingdom for how we’re all still up and multicellular, they’re either in big trouble and going to die soon or they’re a freak of nature and probably should get studied for cancer implications or something. A clump that big, if it’s actually functional, means they’re probably either making really shit copies of the proteins or they’re making a shitton for some insane cell maintenance.”

“What would they need all that maintenance for?”

“The point of it is to not get cancer, right? If you’re keeping all your genes in order to copy right, then you have happy healthy cells that aren’t mutating and dying to save you from how shit they are or mutating and not dying and they’re multiplying like crazy to give you a lovely tumor. I guess having an overactive system like that would be great if your constantly stressing your cells out? But if it was doing it like that like this sample implicates, you’d have to be inhuman. A real freak to have a functional gene like that.”

Like if you were ripping through space on a regular basis. That seems like it would stress the cells out. “Can I see a copy of it?”

“For real? Yeah, here, I’ll send it to you…” McKenzie shoves the fries aside to pull her laptop out. “I should have fucked my experiments earlier if it made you actually interested in genetics…”

The email appears in Amanda’s inbox a couple minutes later, after McKenzie has pointed on her screen why the image is weird and comparing it to the regular samples.

Amanda has one last question: “Did anyone else keep this?”

“Did anyone keep my fuck up? No, Amanda, you’re so weird. And I’m not either, I don’t need a bad sample taking up room on my hard drive. Project is turned in, it’s flagged as an outlier in my results, and I’m sure my TA isn’t going to hang onto it. Why would he?"

Good.

Amanda isn’t really sure what to do with this info that she is pretty sure proves Five isn’t totally human. Or at least has some weird shit going on, which makes sense when he can do what he can do.

She decides it needs to be in his court. McKenzie hadn’t thought anything of the results, and – to be fair – they could really be from an experimental error. But the fact that Five was in the sample group and that, for all her distractions and partying, McKenzie is usually meticulous when it came to her lab work makes Amanda think it’s unlikely just that.

So, she prints out the results, shoves them in a manila folder, and then deletes the email and files.

She catches Five at work the next morning. “Hey! Number!”

He pauses in his math to glance over his shoulder and nod a greeting before turning back to his whiteboard.

“Can we talk for second?” she asks as she dumps her bag in her cubicle, digging the results packet out.

“Shoot.”

“Over here.” She jerks her head to the conference room.

He frowns but follows. “Everything good?” he asks when she closes the door behind them.

“Yeah,” she says. She thrusts the manila envelope forward.

He cautiously takes it but doesn’t open it. “What is this?”

“You remember McKenzie’s big project for her genetics class?”

“Sure, when you shoved q-tips down our throats.”

“Swabbed your cheeks. Yeah, that one. Um. You had weird results, and I thought…” Amanda trails off as Five just stares at her. His expression is unreadable.

“I thought it was anonymous.”

“Yeah, it was. Like, she knows who she got samples from, but the samples themselves weren’t labeled. But…”

“But?”

“She had one sample that was wonky. I don’t totally understand it, and she and the TA assume she messed up the reagents on it, so they don’t think anything of it, but…”

“But?”

“I sampled you and you’re, um. You. With the Jesus birth and everything.”

Five’s expression doesn’t change. He glances down at the envelope in his hands. “You think the weird results are me because of my powers.”

“Yeah.” She shifts slightly.

“And you printed them out and gave them to me in a dramatic envelope because…?”

“I didn’t know what else to do. Felt like if it was something explaining how you’re… different, it should be yours. I deleted the files and I think McKenzie will, too, once her grade is finalized. That should be the only copy.”

He nods and turns the envelope over in his hands. He still hasn’t opened it.

“So, um. Yeah,” Amanda says as the silence stretches.

“This is the one copy?” he confirms.

She nods.

“Cool. Thanks.” He straightens and walks past her, dropping the packet in the garbage as he exits the conference room. He doesn’t look back.

Amanda looks after him as the door hangs open. She follows him a minute later, almost running into Sarah as she’s unlocking her office.

The envelope stays in the garbage, unopened and to be forgotten.

Maybe that’s for the best, Amanda decides.

#number's relationship with reggie is so specific and complicated #anything that shifts it - shifts that dynamic - is huge for five #and learning reggie is an alien is such a fundamental *shift* in how he has to think about his dad #it's an angle that could be used to let him off the hook - which luther would do depending on where he's at in his journey #but five absolutely would refuse to do that #alien or not he still put them all through that shit #but it makes it so much messier and five's usual tactic when things get emotionally messy like that is to pretend to ignore it #while silently obsessing over it by himself #rob would have some work to do there #anyway enjoy the snip it's a thing i've been thinking about for months but never actually wrote down #snips #jt #number #amanda

[kayfarafey]

Greetings!

I think this question is perfect for yours truly.

Defence attorney Miles Edgeworth and Prosecutor Phoenix Wright. Due to some weird supernatural incident they both find themselves in different roles. It's essentially the cliché body-swap-but-each-person-retains-their-own-minds that we've seen all too often in media. Do you have any headcanons, thoughts or similar as to what it would look like if their roles were reversed? We have already seen Edgeworth take on the role of a defence attorney temporarily, and I think he was quite good. Also, what about their dynamic?

I know this may be a question that you possibly need to think about first, so please take as much time as you'd like, or if you don't want to answer it at all, you can definitely let me know in a PM. I don't mind. <3

Thank you and best wishes,

Zieksy

...WAIT ZIEKSY DO YOU NOT KNOW IM WORKING ON A ROLESWAP AU RIGHT NOW? THATS SO CRAZY. read more because i went ham on this response i got so excited

the general premise is that in this au, because theres a bunch of prosecutor phoenix von karma fics out there (complete respect to them, but i don't want to steal anyone's dead horse) is that when phoenix's parents die around the same time as dl-6 occurs in canon, he ends up being taken in by the hawthornes. i wanted to experiment with phoenix's own past instead of just totally switching him with edgeworth, and i love dahlia she's like. Antagonist of All Time. so i wanted to play around with her and what sort of effect she would have if her relationship with phoenix (to clarify, it is a sibling relationship as opposed to a romantic one) was a) actually her, and b) far more significant than an 8 month college romance, with all the complicated messiness of having a family member who is Not a good person but they are your family.

phoenix's defining tenet is his belief in others and his ability to trust them, and while his relationship with dahlia in canon most likely affected that as well it's not really touched upon in detail. something like that would absolutely be seriously damaged by dahlia's hot-and-cold personality as a result of her (imo/hc) npd, as well as her "death" and the subsequent realization that she was alive all along and never told him because she didn't trust him with the secret, because he was too open and honest. after she gets away with killing fawles and valerie hawthorne, phoenix's motivation to become a prosecutor has to do with making sure criminals like her aren't able to evade conviction. it's not quite edgeworth and von karma's "there is no way to determine guilt so we need to prove every defendant is guilty" but more "you cannot put your faith in others to do what they need to do, evidence is everything and people will lie, and i refuse to let criminals escape when their guilt is evident no matter what"

it is also well known that i am a wh*re for beanix wright, so i wanted to utilize that jaded, skeptical element of his characterization. therefore of COURSE prosecutor phoenix has a poker gimmick--if he's not slouched against the bench with his hands in his trouser pockets, he's fiddling with poker chips or a deck of cards. he's almost emotionless, a permanent poker face with just a slight air of smugness. as for his design, i was genuinely thinking "what could be hot and fun" so i have him in a red waistcoat with brass buttons in the shape of the four suits, messy hair and stubble, and a dress shirt with lace decals and no tie. very not-phoenix, which was the intent.

one of the biggest things i wanted to do with this au is address what the potential effects of enduring abuse from someone with narcissism, especially a loss of self-esteem and a loss of identity. when phoenix is taken in by the hawthornes (not out of the kindness of their hearts but more out of obligation) his surname is changed and with dahlia isolating him he really does lose a lot of the stuff that makes him phoenix, in the same way that aa4 phoenix is recognizable but still so different than his character from the trilogy. the red waistcoat of course shows that switch, but phoenix still goes by hawthorne and wears lace (like dahlia) in acknowledgement that more of his life has been spent as phoenix hawthorne than phoenix wright, and the child he once was is not something he can reclaim. that isn't someone he can be again, ever.

oh my god that was all about phoenix. just know you asked for this.

SO WITH EDGEWORTH the accident on december 28th did actually happen, but when von karma was shot by the ricocheting bullet he basically went "fuck this," cut his losses, and dipped instead of shooting gregory. greg ends up with some minor cerebral hypoxia that sometimes affects his motor coordination and short-term memory, so even though miles passes the bar around the same time as canon, he works as his father's co-counsel for 4/5 years. also, because i love her, after byrne faraday's death greg adopts kay so she is edgeworth's little sibling and is actually the defendant in his first solo case. because i am a lunatic i have. all new cases planned. but this is getting so, so long so i wont go into that rn.

he's not so much cold or distant but he is awkward, greg's definitely the heart of their lawyerly duo because he can talk to witnesses without accidentally being too brusque and offending someone. still overly formal, but he loses that rigidity quickly when he's around his family and close friends. one thing i wanted to make sure of is that while he's awkward, he Is still confident in his abilities as a lawyer--think a mix of apollo and post-seven year gap edgeworth. i of course have him in a trench coat, as well as a pretty basic charcoal three-piece and a (tastefully!) blue ascot, because i hate bowties but i wanted to give him dorky neckwear. this contrast of color was literally just because it was fun and i have feenie in red.

AS FOR THEIR DYNAMIC, it's a lot more stilted than in canon. their relationship in canon was built on that childhood connection and phoenix chasing after edgeworth, but that's not the case here. they were important to each other, and edgeworth can't brush that off, but phoenix views miles as a representation of the person who he once was and is not allowed to be anymore. but phoenix is still phoenix, so even when miles pushes only the slightest bit he folds, but his inability to trust edgeworth (even though he wants to) is a huge barrier to the development of their relationship. it's edgeworth's drive in court to unravel the truth and how he values believing in other people that leads phoenix to think about the person he's become. despite not being able to be phoenix wright anymore he still views edgeworth as a paragon of justice and goodness like he did when he was phoenix wright, and if edgeworth believes in that despite everything, if edgeworth believes in him despite everything, edgeworth must be right.

jesus fucking christ i am so sorry. you literally asked this at like. Peak thinking about this au time so you get ten thousand words about it. thank you for asking zieksy you're my moon and stars

#prosecutor phoenix hawthorne #under the cut is word vomit about this au. it's a heavy read. #abuse tw #i talk abt dahlia super quick in there #hot tybalt content

[muraenide]

What do you mean this isn’t an unprompted ask from 2 months ago

@untowonder​ asked: ❝ It's a little more intricate than I expected, ❞ she confesses, violet gaze sweeping across the straps, the o-rings. She didn't know much about harnesses, though she had previously seen them in fashion magazines. To be face to face with one, however, to see how each strap fit over the planes and angles of his chest was quite a different experience. How they defined the shape of him through his otherwise tight shirt. He looked good in a harness. It was like an invitation to curl her finger through the ring closest to his throat and drag him —

Her gaze snapped up, heat rising to her cheeks, her ears burning. What in Wonderland was that thought? How utterly embarrassing that was, and the image which had painted itself in her mind's eye. No, Marianne would not dwell on it. In fact, she refused to. ❝ It looks good on you, ❞  she reached out to tap the o-ring in the center of his chest,  scarcely feeling it through her bandaged fingertip,  ❝ It's very fitting for someone who likes taking orders.  ❞

Teasing was not one of Marianne's specialties,  but somehow she managed to find herself comfortable with teasing him.  And maybe it meant nothing,  and maybe it could have meant everything,  but some part of her refused to look too deep.  Just this once,  she wouldn't look too deep below the surface.  Just this once,  she would let herself have this,  so long as Jade didn't mind.  So long as he was willing to play along.

Well, that wasn’t intentional. The theme of Halloween costumes, as Jade remembers it, were decided by the school’s authorities. Azul held no sway over the letter dispensed to all the dorm leaders in the school, and Jade had even lesser opportunities to meddle with it. But these straps seem to have caught Marianne’s attention. His eyes alight with amusement as he watches the hidden message behind her eyes, her entire person, as she fiddles and plays with the leather straps and o-rings on his body. He almost finds the disregard of personal space amusing, so is the teasing. A soft chuckle leaves his lips. Not everything he does is always intentional, but he didn’t mind this at all.

If Jade had not fully comprehend the appeal of leather straps and o-rings, harnesses, the land dwellers call it, he didn’t really show it. But that information was not mandatory, all that matters is Jade seeing hunger lurking behind the Heartslabyul girl’s large eyes. The only thing keeping her from going further is the lack of privacy from being in the midst of such a large audience, and perhaps some self-doubt is involved.

❝Thank you. Do you, perhaps, mean that subservience is befitting my person?❞ A gentle attempt to tease back. He’s not blind to the generally agreeable rumour that he’s Azul’s shadow, but it’s a game he does not mind playing. Although Floyd might enjoy hunting on land as much as he had in the sea, Jade has desires to explore that relationship from the other side. After all, land is an amusing place where roles were assigned differently than the sea, which Jade thought were more simpler --- to eat or be eaten. 

Compared to that, the hierarchy of the food chain on land is much, much more interesting.

❝It makes me unusually happy to hear that you enjoy them. Please do not feel shy.❞ He says, and then he takes her hand, leaning down to press a kiss on the back of her bandaged knuckles. There is something else tucked deeper into her emotions, but for tonight, Jade decides not to pry.

#untowonder #𖦹 ⋆꙳ ⁄ ic.

[simpfiles]

Okay but what are YOUR personal sfw/nsfw headcanons for Silco?

dude my silco is so boring lmao.

@eye-of-zaun mentioned that each banner could represent a member of the chem barons. if that's the case then i'd go a step further to say the symbol that sits above them is silco's. the way the s is shaped with the tendrils and circle in the middle makes it look like an eye. and we all know this dude has a thing for eye imagery.

everyone calls this man touch starved but he seems just fine touching himself. i am referring to the fact that he is always touching his face. if acne was a thing in league (doesn't look like it considering even the dirtiest of zaunites have flawless pours) silco would have had a major case of it as a teen.

probably picks at his scabs. not excessively but like, he can tell the scab is almost healed so he tries to hurry it along the way and it just ends up tearing skin again.

never had a pear in his life.

silco doesn't bat an eye to child labor because he was one himself. it's just something that happens in the undercity. also, call me a simp who's giving him far too much credit but i'd like to think that he's paying those kids.

obligatory 'silco is a villain and bad person' blah blah blah but also, he is honest to the core about his end goal. he wants the citizens of zaun to experience the same opportunities and respect that topside gets handed on a silver platter. so yeah. i'm saying this man paid those children.

unrelated note but modern silco would tip over 20%.

modern silco only pays with cash or checks. he hates credit cards.

i have 100 modern silco hcs. and 1000 other aus silco hcs that contradict themselves but one hc that will stay constant is that he has never had a pear in his life.

silco respects those who help themselves. when he says "[power] comes to those who will do anything to achieve it" i believe he doesn't mean become reliant on others or a drug to give yourself the illusion of power but that he fosters unbound ambition. because that is what zaun is to him. broken people who refuse to let their lot in life define them.

speaking of lot in life. silco doesn’t buy his clothes from piltover. he doesn’t try to mimic piltover’s fashion either. he is a proud zaun man through and through. he buys from zaun and supports zaun.

massive hoarder.

i'm obsessed with the fact that he doesn't curse in canon. and we can't even say that it's an act because we've seen him let loose and drop all pretense. whether he's alone or in the middle of making a horrible decision (ie the dinner party scene) he doesn't use colored language.

which makes me think his dirty talk is vastly different from the average generic lines that come from a porno. make no mistake, he talks dirty. with a voice like that how could he not? but his word choice is distinct and idiomatic.

he draws out his words. always starting with a command "shhhh. listen." he wants your full attention. to know that you're clinging to his words.

he is explicated in his expectations. “get on your knees and wait.” “stand and strip slowly.” “spread your legs and beg.” he wants to say more, those vulgar thoughts that swirl around his head when you look at him with eyes that make his blood race, but--- it takes him out.

here's part of a fic that never made it in the final draft: he’s uncut, a common occurrence among zaunites, with an impossibly long cock (another side effect of shimmer, perhaps?) that keeps sinking into you, until his hips are flush against yours.

would hate to be called daddy. i know it's the fandom's bread and butter it disgusts him. call him sir. call him mister. hell call him sweetie pie sugar hun baby. anything is better than his dick shrinking further into its turtleneck when you call him daddy during sex. side note: he really doesn't care pet names.

king of foreplay. he loves teasing others because he's a little shit.

he makes so much damn noise! his moans are sporadic and uncontrollable. everything about him is near uncontrollable when he gets into it, neither gentle or slow, he's chasing an end and his partner is just the means.

#Silco #Xian #was going to tag it as silco x reader but then i realized none of this mentions reader once #lmaoo my bad #if you wanted reader x silco hcs i guess send in again and i'll delete this post #lol

[echo-of-sounds]

lazy start, intense finish (pt.2 in the 'your first creampie' series)

-Aizawa x f!reader-

smut drabble of aizawa giving you your first creampie

I’m posting this using my phone’s hotspot because I just really wanted to get this out today. Nothing’s really loading. I picked a gif at random. If the format is a little wonky, I apologize. I’ll fix it later.

Warnings: nothing serious, just a little deepthroating/gagging

At the commercial break, you lowered the volume for Shouta sleeping on your stomach. He sighed and nuzzled into you. His hands were burrowed inside your sweatshirt for warmth, resting on your sides. Not that he needed the extra warmth. His body was nothing but a radiator, keeping yours pleasantly cozy in the cool room.

He remained motionless for another thirty minutes until his chest rumbled a swear.

“You alright?”

He groaned, turning his head. Through the thick, black mess, you saw his eyes straining at the Tv. At least they seemed less red than an hour and a half ago. Hair stuck to his mouth. You gently brushed the strands out of his face, carefully combing through them.

A low hum sounded at your grooming. Your fingers graced behind his ear, down his jaw, skimming the defined bone and bristles. It’s grown a little longer than usual, shading in the sparse five o’clock with attractive, full stubble.

He grumbled in a thick voice, “I need to shave it soon.”

“I like it like this.”

“It’s annoying like this.” He shifted on top of you, removing his hands from your sweatshirt. You moved too, bending your left leg, wedged amid him and the couch’s back, to relieve your stiff knee. He faced your thigh and pressed his lips to it. The peck formed into a long kiss, dragging the thin skin into his mouth.

The heated weight between your legs allowed you to lazily hump, working up wetness, not from his mouth. His lower chest rocked with you. Fingertips depressed into your thigh. Hair mingled around your playing fingers, keeping you coupled as he sucked, stressing the skin with teeth and lips.

You sighed for him. He didn’t budge. You wiggled, cooing, “Shouta, come here.”

Your voice corralled him; he lifted, crawled up to your mouth. Heft settled on top, happily trapping you for a kiss. Swelling swayed against you, encouraging your hips to return the favor. His tongue crudely sunk into your mouth. It drew moans and heavy breaths from both of you, hastening your grinding.

The kisses trailed to your jaw, then neck once you opened it, where his teeth decided to taste. You fondled him through his sweatpants. The material didn’t stifle his girth and heat. And your groping spurred his swaying into thrusting, obviously wanting something to thrust into.

You were about to speak when he bit your neck, shaping your words into a gasp. His jaw didn’t release, very clearly set on leaving you swollen. You squeezed his cock. That only made his hips jerk. You squeezed his sleeve next, panting, “Let’s go- Fuck. Let’s go to bed.”

Shouta heaved himself and you up. The cuddly start to your night-in quickly disappeared as he muscled you to the bedroom. His tongue left your mouth once when he slipped his shirt off. Your palms flushed over his abdomen, feeling up the grooves and hair, smoothing along his pecs, kindling from his radiator of a chest.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then suck me off,” he gruffed, gripping your hair to keep your mouth against his for an airless ten seconds before shoving you to the bed. He dropped his pants and boxers, then joined. But he laid beside you, waiting for you to enact what he said.

And you did. Ready and willing, you hopped between his legs, kissing his erection. Veins in his foreskin slicked with your tongue, from his raphe to his frenulum. The little ridge of skin roused him, physically and audibly. A blush tainted his cheeks. Gorgeous sighs charmed your ears. You lapped slowly, softly, and sweetly at the reactive zone, soaking up his sounds, also soaking your panties.

“You look so handsome right now,” you praised. “Not that you don’t look handsome other times.”

Holding him steady, you pressed a lewd kiss to his head, and you couldn’t help but nip his corona. Then you took him in your mouth, quickly sinking, gradually rising, lightly dragging your teeth along him.

His head dropped to the pillows. Black hair frayed out, exposing pale collarbones and marred skin. His abs expanded in lengthy, indulged breaths. As your fingers trailed up the muscles, he snagged your hair, forcing you lower. Another hand joined. Hips snapped up. Each loud, deep prod choked you. Tears fell when he held you down, flattening your nose into his hair, stationing his dick thick and solid in your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Saliva dribbled. Heat pooled in your neck. A crude gag came with his grinding, making him yank you off. Dark eyes watched spit seep past your lips, drooling to him. They kept yours in focus, his head tapping your lips. “Clean it.”

You nursed on him again, sucking up all his precum and your spit. After a gentle thumb wiped the tears away, his palm rested on your cheek, calmly guiding your head. You hummed.

The switch from dominant to mellow wasn’t new, but it always sparked an affectionate glow in your stomach. The glare, from arousal, not anger, was always pleasing. And the intensity, you’ve seen many a time. Yet something about the tilt of his eyebrows and the pink of his ears goaded an unfamiliar experience, a new need.

Wetly, lust-filled, you spoke around his glans, tasting the salt you wanted to feel inside, “Cum in me.”

“What?”

“Cum in me.” You climbed up, parked on his waist, and removed your sweatshirt. You cupped his cheeks, kissing him with all the potency this need inflamed. “I’m on birth control. It’ll be okay. I want to feel what it’s like.”

“No one’s ever cum in you?”

You stroked his jaw. “No. It’s never come up. I want it to be with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you whined before kissing him, smiling at the tongue muscling in.

Rough fingers coasted down your back and into your underwear. They kneaded your ass, spreading and pressing you while you moved with his hands, lightly riding his naked chest. The foreplay was becoming a bit too much, evident in the wet material pressing between you.

The fingers skimmed to your front and easily slipped in. “You’re this wet just from thinking about-”

“Yes,” you gasped, appreciating how his palm graded your clit. You stilled his wrist to grind down. “Sho, I’m gonna- Fuck.”

“How am I supposed to cum in you if you get worn out before I’m even inside you?” His stupid, rugged, lovely smirk taunted you.

Before you could respond, you were whipped to the mattress and your panties were tugged off. Shouta nestled between your thighs, immersing himself balls deep without any pushback or preparation. Knowing how this was going to end livened your noises and heightened your skin. Coarse hair, fevered skin, sultry breaths, digging fingers, lips, teeth, nails; all fueled the fire.

With a bite to your already bitten-up neck, the thrusts started solid. His head brushed straight into your front wall over and over and over again. Your nails made a home in his back, scratching, thanking him for his beautiful dick.

Shouta pushed up to his hands, increasing the strength behind the thrusts. You grasped at his biceps and rose, needing his mouth. You got what you wanted; sloppy, saliva, tongue-filled kisses and deep thrusts to curl your toes. Your eyes fluttered closed and head lolled back. Refusing to break, the kiss followed with his added grunts, amorous sounds he barely shared.

You tried speaking, voicing how amazing he always made you feel, your love, close you were, how so fucking high you felt. But nothing escaped your connected mouths except saliva. Instead, you stroked your clit. The width inside was leading you straight to orgasm.

Yet, rather fiercely, your hand was stopped.

“Sho, I-”

“Tonight, you cum from me,” he growled in your ear. He hooked both your knees, leaned forward, and continued his unabashed rutting, flattening you to the bed, completely caging you under him and the weight bearing down and into you.

He withdrew till only his head remained then bucked, slapping his balls against you, using the bed’s bounce to repeat repeatedly, jarring your hips and legs. His thrusts reached your depths. Pleasure drowned any twinge of pain out. You weakly clawed at his shoulder blades, losing energy.

“Cum.”

You whined his name.

“Now.” Teeth, once again, found your sore neck. Hair flared over your face, lending more building heat. “Cum, now.”

Arousal dripped from the disgustingly vulgar sounds between you. Your muscles couldn’t straighten under his control. You fussed and pawed.

“Fucking cum,” Sho gnarled. The guttural demand rolled your head back, driving home what he wanted, clenching muscles and limbs around him. Water formed from squeezing your eyes too hard. Skin gave under your nails.

All the joyous bliss almost turned painful with his nonstop thrusting. Because of the position, your legs couldn’t wrap his waist. But they still tried, needing him to stay inside. You felt down his sides and grappled at the sweat-coated skin. “Shouta, please- Fuck! Please.”

“I’m fucking-” His own huffing cut him off, struggling to even out. Thick groans melted in your ear. His thighs, while railroading through, trembled, humping, seeking.

“Cum in me. I want it.”

The thrust slowed, but the weight behind them didn’t lessen. He pressed into your neck.

“God, Sho, just cum in me.”

Each ball slap lingered longer and longer.

“Please,” you all but pleaded.

Swearing and growling your name, he sunk one last time, grinding against you, trying to push just a little deeper as you finally felt cum inside. It was new, different, and so, so warm. Hearty groans rumbled his chest. He dropped your legs, giving you the chance to wrap around him, embracing tight, and refusing to let him pull out.

Shouta’s labored breathing gradually calmed. Though it didn’t ease the heat of your bodies. And neither of you spoke, choosing to just lay and experience the feeling together.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #aizawa imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha smut #bnha

[arcadejohn127-9]

Could you do the Brothers and undatables reacting to MC being poisoned and finding out that Micheal was trying to kill them because he was jealous that MC was close with the brothers. Let me just say your work is great the way you describe the situation before going into the reactions is really interesting. Thank you so much!!!!

I already had this ask half way done but Tumblr decided to delete all my work due to buggy WiFi - I'm currently in pain 😭

I don't know much about poison so bare with me, I just looked at the basic symptoms and went "I'm smart" I've passed out after being ill or just in general quite a few times when younger so I had faith

This also has a bonus Michael part! I've decided to add his response to the boys reactions in its own format or else each one will just have a repeat of the same Michael Response

Warning: angst, implied vomitting, attempted murder, fainting, spoilers of lesson 37 and 16, gore on Michaels part, long

"from Michael...?" You questioned outloud, unsure on how to feel about the parcel you've found.

Your relationship with the angel wasn't a defined one. You didn't hate him but you didn't like him either; there was always something about his presence that made you fearful. You choked it up to be just internalised fear due to hearing the brothers experience of the celestial realm and angels.

You've never met him in person; the first conversation you had of him was when you stabbed yourself with the dagger instead of Lucifer. You saw the light and he spoke to you, surprised and shocked at the love you had for the demons. Even then you never really got to speak to him again, he was a mystery. You've sent a few letters and he's returned some and Simeon is a link between you two. But other than that? You didn't really have a relationship with him.

So why? Why would he send you a gift?

You looked inside to see a packet of apple pieces and herbs inside of a snack shaped teabag. You admired the unique shape and couldn't stop a small smile appearing. It was definitely cute! And you finally got to use the new kettle and cups barbatos got you.

You decided to text Simeon, telling him to thank Michael for your gift. He was surprised by this but agreed, happy you two were connecting.

Whilst your new tea brewed you were trying to figure out a way to repay his kindness. Sure it was simple small gift but he was reaching out - you were giddy! Hopeful this meant he was fully on board to the exchange program.

But you soon would regret drinking that tea. It was so sweet you couldn't stop drinking it; your lips only leaving the cup of a second of breath. It was addicting. The herb covered apples pieces gave it a nice slight bitterness. But it wasn't overbearing but didn't make it taste like sugar in your mouth.

As soon as the last gulp came down; something came up. You hunched over as your stomach churned, a disgusting taste forcing itself up your throat. Your vision growing blurry as you stumbled out of your seat, the light in your room feeling like knives to your eyes. You tried closing them but the effect didn't change. You were barely hunched over on your side releasing everything in your stomach. It stung your throat, your stomach feeling painfully empty.

There was this invisible feeling telling you to go to sleep. You wanted to obey but the light felt too painful. In your dazed state you shakily texted the groupchat a sloppy "help me ASAP, my room" before letting your body go limp, heaving as you just laid there, dragging a nearby jacket over your head and let your vision be consumed by the darkness.

Lucifer:

He's heart broken

How did this happen? You were fine and now you're not moving

Your breathing was faint against his neck as he held you

He saw the parcel and connected the dots, Eden's tea

It was a death sentence for any human, a treat for demons and a punishment for angels

He's started a war once, he can do it again

Whilst he knew he couldn't enter the celestial realm he demanded that Michael show himself

When his demands went unanswered, he was ready to break all rules

"He's gone too far, I don't care for his reasons! I WILL DESTORY THE CELESTIAL REALM IF I HAVE TO! HE WILL ANSWER ME!"

when you received a cure all his angers washed away with relief

Happy to have you awake again even if it was for a few moments

Mammon:

FLASHBACK ARE STRONG

All he can think about his how you looked like in the past; dying in his arms

He immediately went to blame belphie but almost tripped over the parcel

He's an idioit but he knew what this tea was

Becomes feral with rage and overly protective of your unconscious body

He's hunched over by your side at all times just growling at anyone who comes near you

He wanted to hurt Michael but he wanted to stay with you

He'd talk to you and tell you how he was going to get payback

"I should of known he'd do something-! I'll never forgive him- DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!! I'M DOING THIS FOR THEM!"

As soon as you get the cure he's hugging you and telling you how much he missed you

Levithan:

When he found you, his heart dropped

It only got worse when he found the parcel and realized what Michael has done

he will remind the celestial realm why he is an admiral of hell's navy

He spends time by the sea communicating with any creature he can get; telling them if things go down he'll need them to flood the gates of heaven

When he isn't planning war he's with you, playing games, trying to ignore how dead you looked

He would remind you what buttons to push when your chatacter didn't move

"YOU THINK I'LL JUST LET THIS SLIDE??!! HE'S KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!"

He broke down sobbing when you woke up after getting a cure

He was convinced you were dead but here you were, alive and awake

Satan:

He's a detective nerd so of course he scoped out the scene

When he found the parcel and Michaels name - oh boy

Never met the man and pities him for letting their first meeting be the angels demise

It wasn't long before he had to be detained

Screaming and tearing up anything he could, yelling at his brother's for falling

He blamed his brothers, he blamed Michael and he blamed himself

Hated being locked away from you, would course more of a fuss when he couldn't see you

"I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU IF YOU DON'T LET ME GET TO THAT DAMN ANGEL!! I HATE YOU!"

He's only calmed down when you are given a cure and he's told you're alive

Is finally allowed to see you and he holds you tight

Asmodeus:

When he found you he was sobbing

It only grew worse when he found out what happened

In Denial

Not of Michael, he believed that but in denial you were dead or were dying

Kept insisting you were just tired and sleeping

Destroyed an entire room when one of them insisted you weren't sleeping

He'd help you get ready and pamper you, telling you it's okay and you can thank him when you feel better

Would be seen wiping your face often in hopes it'll get rid of that death like appearance you have

"They're fine but Michael won't be, when my precious darling wakes up I'll make sure they know I'll make everything better."

When you bad your cure he started crying and laughing, telling everyone he was right

Clinged to you and let you sleep

Beezlebub:

He found the parcel almost immediately

And went into a rage - we all know how his hunger tantrums are

Would've destroyed the whole house if he wasn't restrained

Guilt

So much guilt, his shoulders are always sagging

Sits by your unconscious body so he feels like he's protecting you

Has tried kissing you awake

Hoping you'll wake up like a fairy tale Character and everything will be fine

"I'm going to kill Michael and I won't let any of you stop me....protect (Y/N) For me."

Was so happy and relieved when you got the cure, sticking to your side at all times even when you were awake

Belphegor:

He was quick to help you into bed and on your side

When he found the parcel he was ready to murder

His rage towards Michael massively outweighed his hatred for humanity - even Lucifer!

Beel couldn't keep control of him mostnofnthe time unless he got forceful, belphegor stuck in a headlock screeching bloody murder

Stress sleeping

Like many of the brothers he develops two modes: calm or PLANNING MASS MURDER

Whenever he gets overwhelmed he just forces body to shut down and sleep besides you

"Michael will face me again, I won't let him kill anyone else that I love! He got Lilith killed and he can't do the same for (Y/N)!"

As soon as the cure was found he was by your side

Letting you rest and watched over you

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Found out through the brothers

Sees this as an act of war against the peace he's working for

He was normally sweet and forgiving but it seemed Michael wanted to rip to his last nerve

Demanded for every reliable demon to search for a cure

Even had Solomon try to make one

"Barbatos, what is the possibility of Michael coming down to the devildom or the human realm? I want 'discuss' with him what his actions have caused."

As soon he he found out you were alive and safe

He didn't stop his plans but let himself have time with you

Barbatos:

So much guilt

Like holy shit

Is just constantly questioning how he didn't prevent this

Asked permission from the lord to just change the timelines so this didn't happen but the brothers were against it

They demanded they didn't avoid this situation and let Michael face punishment

That he couldn't refuse, he was angered by the angel's actions

More than he would ever show

"humans are so fragile and their time is so limited - that's why I'm never going to let anyone cut theirs short again."

Was part of the cure search party, he led the group

Once you were cured he stayed with you

Acting as your butler and made to check each of your foods and drinks

Solomon:

It wasn't a wise decision to piss off a wizard with stupid amount of pacts

To think an angel would do such a thing

But whilst Everyone lost their temper and searched for a cure

He was wondering - why did it happen

He was ordered asked to make you a cure

He was able to do it but the real cure was also found - giving you extra cure wasn't going to harm you

But he did plan to harm Michael

"you'd think he was smarter than this, he didn't even hide he was the one who did it but all it does is make my job easier."

nursed you until you woke up

Making sure you had mini cures to completely magic it out of your system

Simeon:

When he found out he was stunned

Betrayal - that's all he felt

How could Michael do such a thing?

But he knew Michael was a cruel angel, many having to drink Eden's tea as punishment

It burned their insides and had any poor soul sobbing for mercy after a gulp

"Michael you fool, you can get away with things in your league but you've involved the three realms into this....I pray you do not make your demise harder for yourself."

Was apart of the cure search party

Soothed you when you finally woke up, telling you it'll be okay

Let you rest as much as you wanted

Luke:

They tried to hide it from him but he kept demanding to see you

He wanted to know why everyone was acting strange

When he finally found out he was broken

His mentor

His idol

His everything

The person who always went for permission and knowledge

He thought so highly of him but he's hurt you

He's done more than that! He's tried to kill you!

He's been sobbing for days and locked himself away, he couldn't bare to see you after his once visit

He believed you were dead and they were just keeping your body

"Michael....why....why would you do this.... I thought you loved your brother's....I thought you were kind..!"

When he found out there was a cure he begged to help but they wouldn't let him

He only got to see you when you woke up and he was hugging you, crying

+ bonus Character↓

Michael:

The angel knew they'd be upset

But 9 demons wanting his blood? One wizard ready to cause mayhem and even his own kind wanting his downfall?

That he didn't expect

In his blind jealousy he didn't expect they'd all care for you this much

Thinking apart of them would be relieved you weren't there

But no

"You were my brother's before you were their partner, I'm simply doing what is right! It was their time to meet him and finally stop controlling all of you! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME! I'M YOUR FAMILY! WHY ARE THEY MORE IMPORTANT?!"

He got his answer

His wings torn to shreds, chunks of flesh bitten off him and slashes all over his body

He was left in human world bleeding and barely recognisable

They didn't hold back

He dread to think what the rest of them would do when they find him

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beezlebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me imagine #obey me Michael #obey me headcanon #angst #tw: ptsd #cw: angst #tw: attempted murder

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 3:

ѕυн נσнииу

23 days of NCT masterlist.

warnings: tooth-rotting shit, Johnny is a dick at the beggining, inexperienced reader, fem masturbation, it's kinda bad but I hope you enjoy.

taglist: @notbeforelong @curieouscapt @whathamelon @unknown5tar

“I’m going out with my friends tonight, don’t wait up for me.” He commented while slipping his black, leather shoes on.

“Drive carefully .” You answered as you popped a cup of instant ramen inside the microwave.

“Yeah.” You took a deep breath after the door closed behind him. Freedom finally.

You turned on the Tv, setting the volume louder than usual. Johnny didn’t like noise, to be honest, he probably didn’t even like you. He had so many house rules, you couldn’t even breathe without getting scolded by him. Not even three months had passed since your wedding and you already felt like you were in some sort of military camp.

“God, it smells so nice.” You murmured, pulling out the hot cup from the microwave and dumping the content in a bowl.

You ate on the sofa, another thing that Johnny hated, while watching your favorite series, enjoying your time alone. If it wasn’t for your parents, you would’ve never agreed to marry him, but they sounded so excited with the idea that you couldn’t refuse them, it wasn’t like you had a line of men waiting for you anyways.

You decided to have a little dessert, a mug cake, to be specific. You decided to make one for Johnny as well, the memories of you as kids eating all sorts of candies coming back to you as to mixed all the ingredients together. What happened to him during high school? All you knew was that he studied abroad and came back like a completely different man. He wasn’t your Johnny anymore. Of course, you were sad at first, but your sadness soon turned into anger as his attitude towards you got worse.

“Get lost.” Or “You’re so annoying.” Were some of the things you’d often hear.

You stopped trying after a semester, and it was quite healing to be honest. But then your parents had to bring him back to your life, and in the worst way possible. Nevertheless, they seemed happy, knowing that someone nice was living with you. Of course, they didn’t know the new Johnny.

After eating up all your food, you washed the dishes and laid down on the couch, your eyelids slowly closing as you drifted away. It wasn’t until a couple of hours later when a pair of arms woke you.

“Huh?” You opened your eyes a bit disoriented.

Johnny held you between his arms, carrying you towards your shared bedroom, which he almost never used.

“Go back to sleep, I got you.” He tucked you in with delicate movements. You could sense alcohol in his breath, but he wasn’t acting drunk at all. “Close your eyes.” He murmured as he felt your gaze over him.

“If alcohol was all it took for you to be nice, I would’ve poured some whiskey on your morning coffee every day.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your remarks.

“I’ve been a bit rude to you, haven’t I?” He kneeled down in front of the bed, his thumb tracing the shape of your eyebrow. Now you were certain he was drunk. “I’m sorry, I still don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since you rejected me-”

“I’m sorry, what?” You frowned.

“You know, the letter I sent you when I was abroad...” He tried helping you remember, things getting clearer for him at your lack of response. “You didn’t get it, did you?” You shook your head. “Shit.”

“So you’ve been an ass to me for a letter I didn’t even get? Way to go, Suh.” Anger started boiling at the bottom of your stomach, sleepiness abandoning your system. “God, I wanna hit you so bad right now.”

“Please, do so.” He felt like a piece of garbage, having treated the girl he loved like his worst enemy for a misunderstanding. “But, hypothetically, if you had gotten that letter...what would’ve been your answer?” He fidgeted with the bedsheets, feeling your legs shift under them.

“I don’t know, what did it say?”

“I’m not gonna tell you what a lame 14 year old wrote to his crush.” He scoffed. “It was just a love confession, quite cheesy if you ask me.”

“If I had gotten that letter...” You cupped his soft cheeks, they were burning, probably because of the drinks he’d had, or maybe because of your touch. “I would’ve begged my parents to let me take a flight to see you, so I could answer to your confession in person.” His heart stopped, the answer he’d longed for so many years was finally about to slip from your mouth. “I did like you, John. But then you abruptly changed, and you hurt me so much during this past years.” Your words sounded unforgiving, and yet, you had the softest look on your moonlit face. “But I’m willing to let that go if you tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

He didn’t hesitate to pull your face closer to his, your noses slightly touching.

“I’m so glad you agreed to marry me, that way I get to spend the rest of my life with the woman I’ve loved for so many years. Only if you want that too, of course.”

“Will rude Johnny be back tomorrow morning?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted together.

“Rude Johnny’s dead.” His sweet smile encouraged you to finally shorten the distance between your lips. It was your very first real kiss as a couple.

Your lips fitted perfectly together, like two puzzle pieces. He was the first to make a move, placing his hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer as he climbed on top of your body. The kiss started getting heated, his tongue freely exploring your mouth as his hands got playful, softly kneading your breast.

The palms of your hands touched his well built pecs, a small gasp escaping your mouth as you realized how strong he really was. He was definitely not the skinny teenager you were in love with.

“What is it, baby?” He smiled, his cheeks turning slightly pink, your wide eyes looking attentively at him.

“Did you eat teenage Johnny or something?” He laughed, the prettiest and most genuine laugh you’d ever heard from him.

“No, but there’s someone else I’m surely gonna eat out tonight.” You smack his chest, a high pitched whine coming out from his mouth. “What was that for?”

“Don’t talk like that...it’s my first time.” He’d already guessed it by the fact that you’d never had a boyfriend or a proper date, but it was still shocking to hear it from your own mouth.

“Then I guess I’ll have to be gentle.” His long fingers started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt right in front of your inexperienced eyes, cockily smirking at the way you’d unconsciously bite your lower lip. “Can I ask something?” You nodded, eyes still glued to his half naked chest. “The day of our wedding...was that your first kiss?” You remembered the lame peck you received as soon as the officiant declared you husband and wife.

“Sadly.” He felt as if a hundred needles were stabbing his lovesick heart.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, kissing your soft lips over and over again. “I stole your first kiss.”

“Then make up for it.” You raised your hips, your sensitive core meeting with his bulge and stealing a gasp from both of you.

His hungry lips attached to your neck, sucking several purple marks on it as your hands quickly worked through the remaining buttons of his shirt, helping him slide it down his arms. Even with the lack of light in your room, you could see his torso perfectly, the way his biceps would twitch as his hands slipped inside your shirt, thumbs caressing the soft skin of your tummy.

“Johnny.” You moaned, his hands moving upwards to play with your hard nipples.

“Turn on the light on the nightstand, I want to see you.” He murmured beside your ear, kissing the shell of it as you extended your arm to do as he said.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust to the new illumination. Johnny looked even more ethereal under the dim, yellow light.

“Why have you got to be so damn perfect?” Your fingers traced his well-defined abs, mesmerized by the shape of them. While you were distracted drooling over his body, he took the chance to lift your shirt just above your round boobs, moaning at the sight of the two, beautiful mounds. Reality stroke you as you felt your nipples harden from the cold air. “Don’t look at me like that.” You avoided his eyes, your body growing hotter under his intense gaze.

“How do you expect me to look at the woman I love?” You turned to your side, shirt still lifted.

“Stop it.” Johnny loved how shy you’d always been around him, specially whenever he complimented you.

“No.” He pecked your cheek, hands going down to remove your shorts, stopping right before lowering the waistband. “Are you really okay with this?” You nodded, still refusing to look at him.

“Are you?”

“What a silly question, of course I am.” Without any further delay, he pulled both of the pieces covering your lower half down. You pressed your legs together, trying to hide your wet center. “Why are you hiding yourself from me, baby?” He mocked, hands caressing your round ass.

“I’ve never been naked in front of anyone.” He was quick to dispose his remaining clothes, wanting to make you feel more comfortable.

“Look at me.” His big hand was holding the side of your head as you turned back to him, trying your best not to look down at his manhood. “Open your legs for me.” As he was the experienced one, you decided to let him take the lead, slowly revealing yourself to him. “Good girl.” His praises only sent electric shocks right into your core.

“Are you gonna put it inside now?” Adorable, Johnny thought, using his finger pads to tease your inner thighs.

“No, I need to prepare you first. Otherwise, it might hurt.” He’d done it thousands of times, but it somehow felt different with you, as if he had to be extra careful to make sure you had the most pleasurable experience, even if it meant having to endure the stinging pain between his legs for a while longer.

He first used his middle finger to run it up and down your slit, satisfied at how wet you were for him. He talked you through every single one of his movements, making sure you were comfortable with everything he was doing.

“Johnny.” You whined, three fingers pumping in and out of your entrance. It was definitely different than when you did it by yourself, his digits reached deeper, delivering a new kind of pleasure. “I need you.”

He hummed, pulling out his fingers to grab the base of his dick. He ran the tip over your slit, your hips slightly bucking at the contact.

“Tell me when it stops hurting.” He was only halfway in when you asked him for a break, already feeling overwhelmingly full. “Don’t worry, take your time.” He said despite feeling the urgent need to move.

It took you a few minutes to recover, letting him bottom out. The pain was bearable after that first break, so you almost immediately asked him to move. Johnny started off slowly, both of his hands beside your head as he rolled his hips against yours.

“Does it feel good?” He didn’t even need a verbal answer, your facial expressions were more than enough to let him know just how good he was making you feel. “I’m not gonna last long.”

“Me neither.” You held onto his biceps, the knot on your tummy becoming tighter as he picked up the pace.

He lowered his face to connect your lips, both of you moaning into each other’s mouth as you reached your high, bare chests touching each other while you tried to slow your heartbeat.

“I wish this would’ve been out wedding night.” He kissed your collarbone, pulling out to plop down beside you. “Again, I’m really sorry.”

“Let it go already, John.” You hugged his naked body against yours, letting his hand play with your hair. “As long as you’re like this from now on, we’ll be alright.”

You didn’t even notice when your eyes started closing again, falling asleep beside your now loving husband. The next morning you panicked as he wasn’t by your side anymore. Had it been a dream?

“Good morning, sunshine.” Johnny suddenly came through the door, a tray with food between his hands. “You must be hungry after last night.” He left it on top of your legs, smiling naturally as if this was your everyday routine.

It was definitely gonna take time to adjust to this Johnny.

“Heart shaped sandwiches? That’s so corny, Suh.” You laughed, staring at your food with sparkly eyes.

“Hey! That took me two hours to make.” He went to the bathroom and returned with a hairbrush. “Your hair’s a mess, let me fix it while you eat.” He sat down behind you, slowly going through your hair as you stuffed your face with food.

“Does this mean I’m not gonna have to add whiskey to your morning coffee?” He chuckled behind you, pressing his lips to the back of your neck.

“That won’t be necessary.” He tied your hair up in a not-so-messy bun, lacing his arms and legs around your waist once he was done. “You look cute on my shirt.” You hadn’t even noticed. Probably he’d cleaned you up and dressed you right after you fell asleep.

“I look cute in everything.”

“Yes you do.” More kisses. “Now hurry up, we’re going out today.”

“Where to?”

“I’m taking you out on our very first date.”

#nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

[piecksz]

animeverse where eren is still in his cell and hange+others have an idea of bringing ina girl to fuc to 'loosen him up' so he can give info,hange has studies n research to back this up they bring you dressed scantily to go be his whore he knows why ur there n hates u so hes mean and ignores ur advances eventually he hate fucks u w his anger being directed at u from his situation choking xtreme degrading just being rough in general MEAN SERIOUS EREN NO FLUFF OR LOVE

catalyst

eren yeager x reader

warnings: nsfw, roughness, mentions of breeding, degredation, choking, explicit language

a/n: this is my first prompt request n i was vvvv nervous so pls go easy on me ok ok i hope i did your vision justice

“As romantic as this reunion is, it’s not a date, we need answers.” Levi’s words were austere, ricocheting off the passage walls as the three of you traveled deeper below ground. “He’s still a shitty-ass teenager. Hopefully isolation has made him desperate enough for female contact.”

You said nothing, and instead your eyes looked around fretfully. The chamber was inhospitable, forged from naked rock adorned with smoldering torches. Your minimal attire was inapt in its frigid ambience, so you walked clung to yourself, arms wrapped around your bare shoulders to retain as much body heat as you possibly could.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Levi questioned Hange, keeping his attention forward. He maneuvered through the sharp turns of the labyrinth, which gave you the impression he’d had many experiences down in the cells with his comrades.

Hange released a tremulous sigh. “It doesn’t matter. We’re out of options.” Their nervous tone had them looking over their shoulder, reassuring you with a placid smile. The gesture was thoughtful, considering it had felt like you’d been a third party to their strategic and undivided conversation, but it did nothing to soothe your hesitancy.

Levi and Hange had tracked you down and invited you to meet with them, urgently explaining that they needed your help with debriefing Eren after his insubordination and his blitz on Marley. He’d refused to disclose any further information about his conduct to anyone in the military, not even Mikasa and Armin, his closest confidants. So Hange suggested bringing in someone unbiased, someone not in the military to ruse more details out of Eren.

You were their prime choice after hearing how you and Eren had met when the Anti-Marleyan volunteers had arrived on Paradis. You’d been one of the several civilian volunteers that had helped with affairs and military proceedings at the port. There you’d met Eren and quickly forged a friendship, although Eren’s friends could have sworn there was more between you two than you would have liked to admit.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to their proposal. Perhaps it was your readiness to help the military in their righteous endeavors, or maybe it was for a different reason. Perhaps you were driven by your own selfishness. You wanted to see Eren again, even under the strange circumstances.

Eren’s cell was at the end of the corridor. Once Hange let out an abrupt “we’re here” your lips carried an eager smile, but your expression quickly faltered once you stepped forward and caught a glimpse of him in his cell. Even with the arrival of visitors, Eren kept his head forward while he sat on his bed, one arm balanced on his knee.

“Nice of you guys to pay me another visit. I’m starting to think you just miss me.” Eren’s voice was deep. So much deeper than you remembered. How long had it been? You couldn’t do the math.

“You know you’re our favorite problem child.” Levi responded humorlessly. He stepped aside for Hange to slip the key in the lock, and with one turn the door was swung open. “Don’t look so agitated. We brought you a gift.”

You made no efforts to step out from behind Hange and Levi, but Eren could see you clearly enough. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but maybe it was foolish of you to envision Eren slipping out of his troubled temper the moment you two saw each other again. Realistically, it never would have been that easy. Eren’s face remained hard, if anything it looked like seeing you made him even angrier.

Hange’s hand found its way onto your shoulder, supportive, but reminding you of the reason why you were there.

You shuffled forward, heels loud against the granite cobblestone. Darkness swallowed you as you crept in further, and you flinched at the sound of the heavy door being shut and secured behind you. Looking over your shoulder, your heart began racing at the sight of solid metal bars separating you from the outside.

“Let’s give them some space,” Levi suggested, stepping back from the cell.

Hange’s mouth opened to protest, but they were discouraged by Levi’s strong grip on their ear.

“We’ll be waiting outside if you need us, Y/N.” Levi announced through Hange’s squalls of pain. He gave you a comforting nod before his eyes drifted to Eren, and his expression toughened again. “Don’t try anything. Screams echo down here.” He paused and then turned on his heel to leave, tugging Hange’s ear before releasing it from his hold.

You watched nervously as the two of them disappeared behind the wall.

Hange’s voice was heard again further down the hall. “That hurt a lot, you know.”

It was the last remark you heard from the pair before you heard the door to the corridor close, and then worry flooded your system like it was on an intravenous drip. The Eren you were convinced you were meeting was replaced by someone you weren’t sure you knew, and suddenly you felt unsafe being alone with him, but you held an obligation to Levi, Hange, and the rest of the military that needed the information they expected you to gather.

You walked slowly, feigning a gentle smile to masquerade as though you were happy. It hurt to know that it was something you had to fake. You sat at the edge of Eren’s bed and took note as he made no efforts to shift away. That had to have been a positive sign.

“You look different,” you chuckled. “I like it.” The weak blaze from the burning torches casted a menacing shadow onto Eren’s stolid face. In the half light of the cell he appeared much older. You reached a hand out to brush away the loose wisps of hair that decorated his face, but your movement was stopped by Eren’s unyielding grip around your wrist.

You jumped, surprised at his roughness.

“Do you honestly think you can outsmart me?” His words were bitter.

You looked at Eren with wide, stunned eyes before blinking quickly and trying to laugh off your clear fright.

“What are you talking about?” You brought your unrestrained hand to his jawline, fingers tracing the shape of his face until your touch met the broad span of his chest, and then you felt gutsy enough to slip your fingers under the fabric of his shirt. “You’ve been down here too long. Not everyone’s your enemy, Eren.”

Your fingers wandered far enough until they met the defined curve of his collarbone and the robust muscle of his chest, but the moment was fleeting, interrupted by the jolt of Eren shoving you backwards. You fell off the bed and teetered, momentarily losing your balance.

“It’s pitiful that you’re letting them use you as a pawn.” Eren’s words were sharp, but venom in his words were bearable compared to the resentment behind his eyes.

He knew. He was smart, you should have known he would catch on. You created distance between yourself and Eren.

“What? They’re not using me as a pawn.” Your voice was unsteady. “I promise Eren, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you can help me understand if you just—”

“Then why are you here?” Eren rose from his bed to begin closing the distance you created, and your body began to quiver with dread.

You continued inching backwards until your tailbone collided with the edge of the cell’s sink, and you latched onto it with a sweaty grip.

“I’d rather be a pawn than be driven to do terrible things out of my own free will!” You had no choice but to admit what he already knew, and in seconds Eren’s hands were strung tightly around your wrists while he trapped your body against the sink.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly, blinking back tears. You searched for something past his eyes, just a modicum of vulnerability to at least let you know there was a person behind the Eren you were speaking to, but the once fiery hues of green and blue in his irises were now frosted to an unremarkable grey. If it was true that eyes were the window to the soul, Eren was truly void.

“Please let go.” You pleaded and writhed in his grip. “Eren, seriously let go. You’re hurting me.”

“I don’t expect someone like you to understand.” Eren’s face showed nothing but malevolence.

“Someone like me?”

Eren pushed you back further into the sink until you bit back a shrill cry. “Someone that’s never had to make any sacrifices.”

Tear after tear did nothing to ease Eren’s painful hold, and as obvious as it was that he was hurting you, he remained unconcerned.

“Who are you?” You shook your head. “This isn’t the Eren I know.”

“Then your first mistake was thinking that you ever knew me.”

Eren’s words were somber, but he moved swiftly, and in seconds he tore you from the sink and had you pinned up against the wall, it’s jagged surface digging uncomfortably into your cheek. His mouth hovered by your ear, and when he spoke his breath fanned over the side of your face.

“Scream and I’ll break you.”

So you said nothing as Eren’s knee slid in between your legs, parting them far enough so that he could press his thigh to your cunt. His hands retired from holding your arms behind your back, and they traveled to your ass, riding up the fabric of your dress until it was on full display.

“This is nice.” His voice was condescending as tugged on your dress's short hem. “They did a good job at making you look—,” Eren delivered a sharp spank to the exposed skin then he ran his hand over the area searing with pain, “—like a whore.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a wail as Eren’s palm collided with your backside. He slipped a wicked finger under the thin material of your underwear and dipped his touch down between your thighs to stroke your folds through the cloth.

“Why are you shaking?” Eren used his free hand and slid it around your neck, gently at first, but you knew he wasn’t averse to tightening his grasp. “I thought this was all part of your plan.”

It had been, but your tremors weren’t the result of fear alone. You were scared out of your wits knowing that Eren had no reservations about harming you, and the thought shouldn’t have been as enticing as it was, but the combination of not knowing how he would choose to have his way with you had you feeling hot.

Your words were muffled through sobs, and your dazed mind didn’t make things easier, so all you could do was nod, which solicited a dry scoff from Eren. He hooked his finger around the fabric of your underwear and tugged it aside forcefully before parting your folds.

You released a feeble moan, and you could feel your knees buckling. If it weren’t for his tight grip, you were certain you would have collapsed. “Eren…”

“You’re wet already,” he said scornfully. Two fingers rubbed your clit mercilessly before slipping down to tease your entrance. “Acting scared meanwhile the whole time you were fucking dripping at the thought of me touching you like this. I don’t have to tell you how pathetic that is.”

Your breathing grew more labored at the anticipation of Eren’s long fingers entering you, pumping in and out of your hole while he ridiculed you for how desperately you tightened around his fingers, but you inhaled sharply when his touch disappeared.

Instead you felt Eren wipe your arousal on the inside of your thigh, and you had no time to question his behavior. A pitiful cry of surprise left your mouth as he grabbed the back of your neck, forcibly pulling you off the wall before throwing you in the direction of his bed.

“Move,” he commanded.

You staggered, looking back at him in alarm, but observed his directive without sacrificing any more time. Once you reached his bed, Eren followed closely behind, waiting until your back met the mattress to cage you in under his intimidating frame, and it then became clear that he held no other resolve than to use you for his own satisfaction. He disregarded your discernable ache and began unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs in one haste motion.

Eren’s large cock was already half-thickened with beads of precum glistening at its crown. He brought his palm to his mouth and spat in it before grabbing himself in the large curve of his hand to pump his length in preparation. He ran his tip up and down your folds, taking pleasure in the way you squirmed every time it prodded your tender clit, and then without warning he drove his cock into you, kindling a fervid cry that rose from the pit of your stomach and tore through your throat.

The sound echoed off the walls of the concrete box before ebbing into silence. Eren’s eyebrows creased in irritation while he looked down at you, and you suddenly harked back to his threat. You threw a quivering hand over your mouth, and shook your head, spluttering out a fragmented apology.

“I—Eren—I—I’m sorry…”

Yet he took no heed, and he began thrusting in and out of you, rocking back just to slam his hips into yours, over and over again until an uncomfortable pain grew from deep inside you and diffused over the span of your pelvis. All you could do was swallow your wails while your palm did it’s best efforts to smother your pleas. Fat tears ran down your cheeks and soaked into the sheets; your agony was hard to hide.

“Stop crying,” Eren barked through grunts. He pressed his hand to the hollow of your neck, fingers digging into your fleeting pulse. “You said yourself you have no problem being used.”

Sweaty fingers clutched his forearm, and you struggled against his dominance, breaths growing more and more shallow in an effort to conserve the air you were quickly losing.

He grabbed your wrists and held them together, pinning them to the mattress above your head with one hand.

“Maybe I should put a baby in you, then you’ll understand why what I’m doing is our last resort.”

Eren arched an eyebrow, but when you said nothing and only looked at him with glossy eyes a disdainful laugh slipped past his lips. He continued fucking himself deep into you, watching the way your body lurched with his movement, and then you felt his cock pulsate inside you.

It served as wordless notice that Eren was close, especially since he made no efforts to warn you. His eyes shut tightly, jaw hung slack while his groans intensified, and then he was cumming inside you, his hot seed flooding your walls as he claimed you.

You wound your eyes shut too, dark mascara-tainted tears staining your cheeks while you felt Eren thrusting through his high, making sure he had jettisoned every drop of his cum into you before he pulled himself out and wiped the creamy, white liquid that glazed his cock on the inside of your thigh.

“And when you report back, why don’t you tell them—” As if it were nothing he eased his weight off of you, taking a seat on the bed beside your shuddering body while he tucked himself back into his pants. “‘I let him fuck me pregnant because I’m a whore.’”

#reesprompts #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #attack on titan smut #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan au #aot au #attack on titan imagines #aot imagines #eren yeager fic

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Was Napoleon a tyrant? I don't necessarily think he was: at least, I believe he was a better alternative to the absolute monarchs he was fighting. But there are those who disagree. What are your thoughts on the subject?

This is a can of worms to be sure.

I mean....how are we defining the word tyrant? All monarchs are tyrants to someone. Monarchy, by its very nature, is tyrannical in one way, shape, or form, no matter who is at its head. Even in the more neutered forms we see now days with the British. The Queen still exerts a ridiculous amount of power, all things considered.

Napoleon was no better or worse than any other monarch in Europe at that time. Indeed, better than some, worse than others. Because you know, he was human!

-

This got VERY long. SO LONG. Choice excerpts from below the cut:

"'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it."

"(And I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system. Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door. Napoleon: Hush.)"

"Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor."

"Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight! (I'm putting my money on Napoleon.)"

--

tl;dr: a more or less benevolent emperor who had his faults and who was intimately aware, for better or worse, more than most monarchs, that the head is only tenuously attached to the body. (Skim to the bottom for my thoughts on the personal things i.e. how I interpret Napoleon's actions and brain)

But, more seriously, as with most absolute statements, I am opposed to calling him a tyrant because it is reductive and serves no purpose except to make broad sweeping political statements that I believe are far more about the person making the statement exemplifying their modern political, republican position (as in, actual republican-I-support-the-existence-of-republics not the gop) rather than expressing any sort of truth about the past. (wHaT iS tRuTh.)

For historical purposes, it can over-simplify the situation and lead to skewed interpretations of events because you're coming in with this word that has a lot of modern, 20th and 21st century baggage to it.

And, because these people are coming in with this big, bad word of tyrant as a label for Napoleon, it doesn't allow them to engage with the nuance and complexities of his reign.

Anyway.

Napoleon, as emperor, supported centralized power held in his own hands, with support from other governing bodies (senate, council of state etc.). However, Napoleon had a lot of influence in the structuring of these governing bodies and the subsequent appointments as a means to exert control over entities that would otherwise be able to act somewhat independent from him and impinge his power.

We see this consolidation of power beginning, obviously, under the consulate. 'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it.

There was the whole theatre around the Tribunate offering to extend Napoleon's tenure as First Consul for another ten years as a means of thanks/showing gratitude for all he did for France (Fouche was like: fuck that, let's just make a statue of the guy). Napoleon played the part of Humble Servant of the Public and refused both statue and the ten year extension. (Very Julius Caesar: You all did see that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?)

In actuality, though, he was pissed because he wanted it extended for life.

This resulted in the Council of State deciding "independently" (i.e. Napoleon wasn't present but he sure as hell influenced that Council session) to hold a plebiscite in order to ask The People two key questions: 'Should Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life?' and 'Should he have the right to designate his successor?'

Napoleon nixed the second question saying to Cambaceres, 'The testament of Louis XIV was not respected, so why should mine be? A dead man has nothing to say.' Which is to say, he knew people would vote for him to be Consul for life, but the prospect of him choosing a successor, a la the Roman Empire, and having that choice be without input from the people and respected upon his death? Less clear.

(And, I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system.

Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door.

Napoleon: Hush.)

For the Plebiscite, there were around 3.56 million votes for Yes to the question of Napoleon as consul for life and only around 8,300 for No.

The turnout rate was 60% which is uhh...impressive! (To be fair, there was no real evidence of tampering with the vote. Unlike in subsequent Plebiscites, such as the results for Do We Make Him Emperor, which were absolutely doctored. But, considering the highest turnout ever seen in the French Revolution was around 30/35%, double that is certainly something.)

Lafayette was pissed with this. He kicked up a fuss in the Senate and wrote to Napoleon saying that his 'restorative dictatorship' had been well and fine for now but has Napoleon thought about restoring liberty? and that he was certain Napoleon, of all people, wouldn't want an 'arbitrary regime' to be installed!

Napoleon: Bold of you to assume that, Lafayette.

There were, at this time, some mumblings and grumblings about tyranny from the liberals and those still wanting to continue the experiment of the French Republic, to be sure. They increased as time went on and Napoleon's power continued to consolidate.

Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor.

Lafayette: WhAt Is tHiS??

Napoleon: Look into my face and tell me honestly that you are shocked.

--

His government, as Consul and as Emperor, was centralized and very top-down in how it operated. Little was done without Napoleon's input.

The seemingly democratic institutions that had propped him up into power were retained and Napoleon used them as a means to facilitate his rule. As noted earlier, Napoleon had a heavy hand in appointments and the processes in place to fill various offices. Nothing was really...independent of him and his influence.

Though, in terms of Image Building of Empire, Napoleon worked hard to try and maintain the façade of impartiality as emperor. That he was head of state, sure, but all state apparatuses operated independent of him.

(Why is Napoleon's hat so big? because it is full of lies supporting the imperial image making machine.)

That said, when it came to filling those offices, Napoleon focused on merit more than anything as he wanted his governing officials to be capable, hardworking and, above all else, loyal.

(A good quote from Napoleon in one of his more Eat the Rich moments of the consulate: 'One cannot treat wealth as a title of nobility. A rich man is often a layabout without merit. A rich merchant is often only so by virtue of the art of selling expensively or stealing.'

Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight!

(I'm putting my money on Napoleon.) )

--

This is getting really long and I feel that I've not addressed anything in a useful manner, but am I going to stop? No.

--

Napoleon, himself, at least in 1803, did express some conflicted views about assuming an imperial title. To Roederer he said, 'So many great things have been achieved over the past three years under the title of consul. It should be kept.'

Cambaceres said to Napoleon that upon assuming an imperial title 'your position changes and places you at odds with yourself.' No longer are you merely a public servant, an upholder of the Republic's ideals. Now you are a man wearing a crown, trying to be the upholder of the Republic's ideals.

(nb: I feel that duality is something Napoleon never fully got a handle on. He would veer strongly into authoritarian monarch then have moments of Rousseau-ian Idealism.)

Napoleon was insistent that his rule be a parliamentary monarchy (keeping the governance framework implemented in the Constitution of Year VIII, if I am not mistaken. But don't quote me on that.) and that the French were not his subjects but his people.

So, the imperial government worked thus with the Legislative process divided between four bodies:

Council of State which would draw up legislative proposals,

Tribunate which could debate on legislation but not vote on it,

a legislative body which could vote on legislation but not discuss it, and

Senate which would consider whether the proposed legislation conformed to the Constitution.

The Senate and the Legislative body could, theoretically, curtail Napoleon’s freedom/power. However, considering the fact that he was involved in the appointment process of these offices, and the general rhythm of daily governance, how much power they were able to exert over him was limited.

(This is at his height! Of course, towards the end we see a shift in that. But that's largely tied up in his military defeats and the British banging the door knocker demanding to be let in. Also they brought with them some friends. You might have heard of them? Bourbons?)

The initial terms the Senate brought to Napoleon with their offer of accepting him as a hereditary monarch included, but weren't limited to:

liberty cannot be infringed

equality cannot be jeopardized

sovereignty of the people must be maintained

the laws of the nation are inviolable

all institutions were to be free from undue imperial influence (e.g. the press)

the nation should never be put into a position where it needs to behead the head of state. Again.

Napoleon was uh. Not best pleased with this and had a new version drafted up that included acknowledgement of the sovereignty of the people, but a lot of the other things (e.g. freedom of the press) were cut out.

Yet, Napoleon maintained certain parts of the French Revolution's values which were reflected more in the 1804 Code Napoleon and other legislative and legal pieces than in the initial terms of Senatorial acceptance of his imperial title.

Some of the things enshrined in the Code that were carry-over from the Revolution include, but aren't limited to, the abolition of feudalism, equality before the law, freedom of conscience (to practice their own religion), gave fixed title to those who had bought church and émigré lands during the 1790s, and the equality of taxation was maintained (tax those aristos and the church). Also, there was affirmation of the idea of careers being "open to talent" rather than an accident of birth (as touched on above).

The Freedom of Conscience clause in the Code was a further formalization of several Articles Napoleon amended onto the Concordat in 1802. The Articles guaranteed the principle of religious toleration and made the Protestant and Jewish churches similarly subject to state authority (alongside the Catholic).

These are just a brief summary of some of the more liberal/revolution-informed aspects of Napoleon's governing.

The non-liberal ones I believe we're all pretty familiar with: suppression of the free press, roll-back of rights for women (women are for babies!), reinstatement of slavery (which he later reversed circa 1810/12-ish), top-down Emperor-has-final-word approach to ruling (Napoleon was all about Authority From Above, Trust From Below) etc. etc.

At the end of this, I would say Napoleon's empire falls into that "benevolent monarch" situation. For a given value of "benevolent." As stated at the start, he was like most other monarchs in Europe at the time. Better than some, not as great about certain things as others.

--

Really, it all ties back to Order and Stability.

Napoleon's assent, and his approach to strong, centralized ruling, was a result of uncertainty and constant government change over ten years of revolution alongside the growing belief, by 1803, that a republic like the Romans or Greeks was not going to happen any time soon. Not without constant warfare and the forever looming threat of a Bourbon restoration.

In addition, Napoleon was doing imperial drag. (If that makes sense.) He was dialing the notch of Emperor up to 11 - being the most emperor of all emperors. So, state control was absolute because he couldn't show any signs of weakness - either in his own body, his familial body, or the body of state. The court protocols were intense and over-the-top at times because he had to prove he was not just a second son of a parvenu lawyer from the sticks. No! he was worthy of this pomp. He was worthy of imperial majesty. He was worthy of the crown and scepter.

Napoleon was not raised to be anything other than a military officer and a middle-class head of a family (would have been a MASTER at doing Sunday Dad Puttering About the House). When he dawned the mantel of power, particularly that of empire, he had to make it up as he went along. For such a self-conscious and proud man, this was difficult. He never wanted to misstep and be embarrassed - on a personal level, political or military.

At the same time, he was reared on Rousseau and Revolution so still had those values and ideals imbedded in him, and those fears and memories. Napoleon knew as well as any Frenchman that a monarch's head is easily removable should it become necessary. Therefore, he sometimes ran roughshod over the liberty to ensure security. For better or worse, that was the choice he made.

--

Napoleon was a flawed leader with a complex approach to governing that was focused on a centralization of power within him while, at the same time, trying to be the Successor of the Revolution, the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. Layers! Like an onion.

His approach as emperor really was within the realm of normal-for-the-times when compared to most other monarchs on the European stage in 1800. He also granted liberties to his people that were unheard of in other countries.

I feel like all my Napoleonic ramblings end with the same message: Dude was nuanced. Dude was complex. Dude did good things and bad things. Dude helped people and hurt people. Dude contained multitudes. Because he was simply human, at the end of the day.

--

ANNNNNNND we are done.

Gods bless all y'all who made it this far.

Have my favourite picture of Napoleon at Tuileries as a prize.

hmm that beautiful heavy, handed symbolism.

#napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #ask #reply #napoleonic #history #19th century #imperial myth making #napoleonic identity

[vinylhazza]

Temptation (G.D)

Summary: Y/n is sick of being called frigid, having it shoved down her throat at every party and social gathering she attends. Her confidence is repeatedly broken, stepped on by the people that were supposed to be her friends. Grayson, a boy she’s had a secret crush on for years, is there to comfort her. 

Word Count: 13.8k

Warning: Strong sexual content, smoking, blowjob, drinking *sorry mr. tAkE cArE oF yOuR bOdY grayson* 

Pretentious jerks. That’s all they were. Teenagers that sat on their rich parents high horses, acting so above her every chance that they had. Robotic, inhumane, deceiving. But they were also mean, cruel, and unforgiving with their words more than anything else. They insisted it was all a joke - of course they would - said it was a system to break her into the ‘real world’. One she was sure she didn't want to belong to - not if it’s like anything they’ve shown her. Not if it’s full of sneaky spiteful assholes that didn’t care about anyone other than themselves. They insisted it was them being “good friends”. So why did it hurt so bad when threw their jokes, mockery, and snarky comments at her? Why did it hurt to not be included in on the joke but be the laughing stock of the party? Instead being on the outside looking in - to the one being laughed at. 

“You’re a prude, Y/n, just accept it,” they would say, a term that she’s heard for most of her teenage years. And she knew she should have ignored it, but it never sounded better no matter how many times she heard it. Never, was it used as a compliment - of course not. Because why was it okay to be a virgin? Why would it ever be okay to want more for yourself other than a quick fuck? Why did it have to be frowned upon and embarrassing? It was meant to put her down, not make her laugh, simply said to hurt her feelings because they knew it would. They knew she would think about it hours, sometimes days, after it floated out of their mouths and into the universe - the universe that refused to cut her a break. It basically defined her entire existence in the eyes of her “friends.” It was 1. Shouted at her or 2. Laughed in her face. No in between. They said it like they weren't meaning to hurt her, even if it did. Because, when would they ever have the capacity to know what was right and wrong? Why would she ever expect anything more than the life of a frigid ‘prude’? They thought it gave them a free pass when she laughed it off with them. She wouldn't let them know it cut her deep down to her core. But it had started to weigh her down, chip away at what little confidence she had built up. She thought that maybe when she got into college, it would get better, but it only got worse. 

Y/n wasn't the type to settle, thus making her very misunderstood. She wasn't what they called “frigid”. Time and time again they would throw around the word - and time and time again she chose to accept it for what it was. She just didn't want to bang it out with some random stranger like all of her friends did, instead wanting someone special that didn't just want her for her body - but saw her. Really saw her, for more than just a body. She knew it was cliché and sounded like it came straight from every romantic movie ever made, but it didn't make it any less true. She was eighteen for Christ’s sake, sitting in a room full of people that have been fooling around since they were fifteen while she sat quietly and tried to ignore the whole thing. It was humiliating. It made her sick to her stomach. It made her nervous. And most of all, it made her sad. She had never wanted to join in or acknowledge it. The thing holding her back? Her dignity: something she was very proud of. She also wasn't even the least bit interested in any of her “friends”. Romantically, and lately, even platonic. 

But you would never suspect her to be a virgin, untouched, innocent, with all of her soft beauty. She had features that most guys took a double look at, stopping in their tracks, but it went unnoticed to her. She kept up her stride, walked past the men that gawked at her every step, mind focused on her next class. Never did she falter the persona she crafted carefully, a shield for her heart to hide behind. The wall that she’d built over time, not easily broken. Never would she let a precocious boy with a bad pick up line and a mind full of crude sexual desire cloud her vision - her vision of being with someone respectful, more than a lustful in the moment mistake. She would say it, she wanted better for herself. 

She’s sure it’s what pissed people off the most about her, that she wouldn't spread her legs for any attractive man that showed her an ounce of attention. They say you shouldn't waste your beauty - as if getting dick made her any more of a woman than she already was. As if sex would give her value. As if falling into the trap so many teenagers fell into would make her normal. It pissed them off that she didn't flaunt her body, and she knew it. Knew they wanted her to just let loose - show her skin - be the skimpy college girl they thought she should be. She didn't show herself off with revealing clothing, flaunting herself around like her friends did, having flings with her friends just for a little bit of pleasure that she would regret later. Y/n hated how they tried to guilt trip her constantly, nudging her shoulder when any remotely attractive boy would look in her direction. Boys would try and pressure her to sway against her morals, make her think twice about hooking up with them. Of course she was tempted a time or two, but she was snapped from the thoughts just as quickly as they came. 

It was unfair of them to keep trying, knowing that her answer would always be no. Begging for it didn't make them special. Making her feel like an object, a trophy they needed to obtain, a prize in a box of cereal on a shelf, didn't make them special. Not in her book, at least. Most of the time it just made her feel intimidated, objectified, disgusted, and forever left behind by a generation of people that saw women as nothing until their ‘V Card’ was swiped from their hands and claimed by someone that probably didn’t deserve it in the first place. 

That’s what caused her to sit with a sorrowful pout aimed at her lap, every other shitfaced person in the small circle with her laughing at the boy’s oh so funny comment. Y/n sighed, fingers tapping at the side of her thigh, willing herself not to cry in front of people that didn't deserve it. They never would. But she couldn't deny she was embarrassed beyond belief, yearning for the ground littered with solo cups and stale beer to open up and swallow her whole - maybe then she could forget who is staring right at her, hearing everything. 

It’s not that she wouldn't have cared if he wasn't there, but it definitely made the situation a whole lot worse - to have him hear them embarrassing her. To look in on one of the most humiliating moments of her short adult life. Grayson was the last person she wanted to hear about her lack of sexual experience. The only person in the room she knew from home, let alone respected. 

He was...different than the others. Setting aside the fact she’d had a crush on him since he moved into the house next-door when he was 16...he’d had a golden heart for as long as she could remember. Not a thing went unnoticed by Grayson Dolan, he was always so in tune with the world around him. His kindness spread all throughout any situation he was in. It was a gift she herself wished she could have. Maybe then she wouldn't be such a shy outcast afraid to stand up for herself. But nothing had ever come of her affections, she was far too introverted to make a single move in any other direction than a wave and sometimes a small conversation about nothing in particular. Not until he’d invited her over to hang out after school one day, that is. It was a fleeting suggestion, but it has meant so much to her. She was never sure if it was a pity invitation - but the whole duration of her short visit, she never felt like an outcast.

It was completely innocent, but made it even harder to resist him. Being older wasn't the only thing that had made him so unattainable to her all of these years, it was also his maddening habit of looking so God damn attractive all the time. When he moved away a year before her, something cracked in her heart - the pain of being left behind by the only person that had ever shown true kindness to her. Little did she know she would be in the frat that had become a home to him, at the same college, with the same group of people, that same intense stare aimed right at her. 

She’s seen him only once before on campus, passing by her with a text book tucked under one arm, other hand preoccupied with scrolling through his phone. The way he had smacked into her body with enough force to have her hurdling to the ground in a heap of bones and fly away papers had been humiliating enough - but what was even worse was the way he had gotten onto her level, kneeling before her to help pick up the scattered assignments with apologies tumbling from his mouth one after the other. She remembers that moment vividly, how her heart had stopped beating for a moment, his striking features coming to the forefront of her mind once again.

He was even more attractive than he’d been when he was just her handsome neighbor. He was...well...a man. Muscles that looked to be carved from clay, chiseled and perfectly shaped, that same prominent jaw, dark eyebrows, beautiful plump lips, pouting just the right way while his hands flew from paper to paper - making a messy pile before handing it to her in a clumsy - an adorable - fashion, his shocking hazel eyes landing on her in what seemed like too long. She never saw him again after- even when he mentioned wanting to ‘catch up’, until now. It had been a moment of great significance to her heart, judging by how well she remembered that very moment like it had been playing on a big screen in a theater somewhere. 

But her life wasn't a movie or fairytale, and this situation proved that to be true. He watched from his spot on the sofa, glaring at the immature children that threw their remarks at her without remorse. Y/n had never seen the kind boy look so angry. It made her feel strangely safe, even if she hadn't seen him in so long. It made her cringe knowing the one boy that had shown her true care, friendship with no further intention to get in her pants, was sat right there, witnessing something she hoped would be wiped from her own memory. 

She had always wanted him to be her first, she’ll admit. Somewhere inside of her, she knew Grayson was the only boy she ever imagined herself getting intimate with, pushing it away from the sadness of it never having the opportunity to become a reality. Especially not now, he’s heard too much. Seen her too rattled up. Definitely wasn't how she pictured their next encounter playing out. 

Y/n tried her hardest to avoid his gaze, her hands growing increasingly clammy from the pressure of his eyes looking over her blushing cheeks. It was so fucking mortifying. He sat back on the sofa, large hands hung loose between his thighs. The look on his face was dark, dangerous. He looked...so angry. The laughing continued on as the people around her waited to see what she would do next. Run like a coward? Or face them and subject herself to more embarrassment in front of the only person that’s ever seen her as more than a frigid shy girl? Y/n sat with the shame of their words eating her alive, head hung low to avoid eye contact with each and every person in the small circle. The loud music was making her suffocate, overwhelmed with the situation and the urge to bury herself into the ground forever. 

What was she thinking indulging in a childish game of truth or dare? It was a thing for movies, coming of age ones at that, not a college frat party with several dozen people grinding to music from wall to wall. They were far too old for this. It was stupid is what it was. So why had she said yes? She knew the drill: she said yes to the invite and then it was free reign the entire game to think of every sexual dare they possibly could, just to laugh when she said no. They knew she would too, that was the point. Every single one of them thought she squirmed at the mere idea of sex, just because she had a good reputation. It was okay with her to be that girl at a party, she would rather have no reputation than a bad one. Even if she was a Freshman sitting in a group of much older kids, and some not so much, she felt the most mature. In this moment, she was. 

“If you won't do it, I will,” Shondra spoke out, a skinny girl with a dark complexion, two purple streaks standing out on her black head of hair, falling in front to frame her face. Y/n didn't know her from Adam, only having met her about a weeks ago in her Sociology class. She was a transfer from a college out of state, a grade above her, and moved for personal reasons. Shondra didn't explain, and Y/n never asked. She seemed like such a polite girl, someone she could hang out with. But judging by her reckless actions, she doubts it. Y/n watched as the girl rose from her criss-cross position and onto her knees, crawling over to a freckle nosed boy, scrawny looking boy and pulling him up to his feet by the collar of his shirt. With her hand in his she led him seductively from the crowded room, a smirk plastered to her dolled-up face. The dare had been to “let any guy in the group finger you for seven minutes” to which Y/n had automatically declined, wanting to keep her body to herself. There was only a few boys in the group, anyway. But only one gave her a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow, making the bile stir in her stomach. They had proclaimed at the beginning of the game that the traditional 7 minutes in heaven game was drab, and that they would gladly spice it up along the way. She should have known they would try and pull something on her. 

She wondered for a second why Grayson would ever want to subject himself to these types of people, let alone join a frat when he was...well...the least likely person to become a frat boy ever. But it made sense in a way, he was so accepting of everyone, no matter the background. That’s what drew her to him in the first place. 

She watched the pair disappear up the flight of wooden stairs, a scowl turning at her lips. She flinched as another comment flew her way, “Missed opportunity, Y/n. Let loose a little why don't you?” her ‘friend’ cackled at her, her eyes scrunched up in amusement. Every last one in the group joined in on their mocking laughter. Everyone but him. 

It warmed her heart to look over and see the sympathetic look in his eyes, heart clenching at her own embarrassed smile. She didn't want him to know about all this. Not when she was so obviously out of her element. But she understood why he was here, he actually fit in, unlike her. Granted, she was new to the group. She gazed on, eyes taking in the way each and every guy gave him a nudge on the shoulder, a pat on the back - every girl sending him their best seductive smirk. He didn't even seem...phased. Gave them a smile back, a joke to his friends, and then it was back to him sipping at his beer. Never over the top. Never too little. Comfortable. 

She took the time to scan over Grayon’s body when a loud blonde frat boy stepped up to talk to him about what she assumed was pointless nonsense, her eyes trailing every bulging muscle that escaped Grayson’s burnt orange t-shirt hugging his chest tight. She was ridiculously attracted to him. Everything about him made her nerves buzz - his wispy hair poking out from under his hat, jaw sharp and defined as he smiled up at his friend. It was like he had walked straight out of her dreams, ready to steal her heart once again. She had almost forgotten the way he made her feel, the burst of adrenaline she got just from the bright sound of his laughter. It was like a breath was punched into her chest, getting caught from the force of the blow. 

Y/n knew Grayson was sexually experienced, she wasn't a naïve fool after all. He had always been a bit of a flirt and liked to call girls affectionate pet names. She knew that to him, it was normal, but that didn't mean it hadn't messed with her head a time or two. She thought back to the way he kneeled before her the day he knocked her flat on her back, sputtering out a shy, but surprisingly frantic, apology. There had been a little pet name slipped out with his rambling, one that had her shivering to this day: 

“Sorry, babe. Didn't see you there.” 

Babe. It stuck with her like a catchy tune, popping into her whirring thoughts the first second she saw him again. It just sounded so good coming from his heart shaped lips. She presumed the reason she didn't look at him like all of the other sex-crazed teens, was probably the fact that he didn't necessarily flaunt his sexuality like the rest. He was confident, of course, but unlike the others he had morals and could see plain as day they were hurting, sexualizing, and degrading her. She didn't know it, but Grayson knew there was more to her than some shy little girl that blushed at any sexual comment. She didn't flaunt it like the rest did, but that didn't make her any less of a woman. 

He watched her carefully, noticing her zoning herself out of the game, in her own head. He’s sure she’s beating herself up over the words they flung at her so carelessly. He wishes she knew how special she was, that she didn't fall into the ‘norm’ of things - that she didn't have to. She stood her ground even if it made her a social outcast. She had always walked on her own path, and he envied her for it, but was thankful he wasn't as blind as some of the people in the frat right then were.

Y/n moved away from the group of condescending, shit-faced college kids, needing a breath of fresh air and a refill on her drink. She normally wouldn't have been a social drinker either, but tonight had been different. She needed a boost if she was going to last the whole night and not lose her mind in the process. She wasn't joining in on the ‘fun’ anyway, and she was right on the money assuming they wouldn't notice her absence. They didn't even blink as she walked away. She thought over the night on her trek into the kitchen, squeezing between sweaty dancing bodies, ducking under flailing limbs. It had her thinking that...it could never be her. She doesn’t think she could ever be that carefree. Completely let go of all of her worries in front of dozens of people she didn’t know, didn’t trust, and didn’t want to see her like that. Part of her wanted to succumb to all of their teasing sometimes, just get with someone. But she told herself over and over again that it was ridiculous to go against what she wanted and believed in all because of a little drunken harassment. She wouldn't break for people that didn't respect her. She would regret it, and so far, she’s had no other regrets except maybe not kissing Grayson at least one time when she had even a little bit of a chance. But that chance was long gone and forgotten now. 

Glancing behind her shoulder into the packed living room, she saw Grayson lift his hand from across the way, hand gesturing in a sort of wave. His other hand was holding a beer. She cringed at his beverage internally, always loathing the strong putrid taste of beer. She was more of a wine girl, herself. Y/n let a smile lift her cheeks, it was slow of course, not really sure if his small wave was directed at her or just another one of his buddies that happened to be passing by in the crowded house, even if she was the only one in the kitchen. 

She quirked her head to the side, watching him with squinted eyes as he mouthed something in her direction. ‘You okay?’ she gathered, not understanding the sudden sympathy, but nodding back a ‘Yeah’ to him anyway. Why did he care? She had always been an outcast, that much was obvious. Yes, they had been ‘friends’ so to say before he moved off the college, but she had thought that was the end of it. He was there and then he wasn’t. She didn’t expect him to remember her, much less care about her after. The blush that crept up her cheekbones when he smiled happily back at her, made her internally cringe. Obvious much. ‘Good’ he’d mouthed back, a dazzling smile showing his ridiculously straight teeth off to her. 

Not wanting to keep staring, she turns her back to face the counter - trying to catch her breath from having him express such sympathy when she was used to being invisible, and when seen, mocked. Truth be told, she didn't know where the hell to look once the - sort of - conversation was over. She fought herself over the redness in her cheeks, cursing her own pathetic shyness. He was just...so kind. He didn't even have to be and he was. Even if someone doesn't deserve it, he shows them kindness. Redemption was something he’s always been a fan of. Grayson was always the bigger person, making it totally impossible to not open yourself up to him. She huffed at herself, apparently her desire hadn't lessened over time like she had hoped. He made it easy to fall back into old fantasies, that much was true. 

She focused on the wine dribbling from it’s box and into her red plastic cup, knowing that it’s shitty wine, but at least it isn't beer. She’d already had a few small glasses, feeling the warmth flooding in her body, but perhaps just a bit more would help. Thinking maybe juice would make it at least a small margin better, she wanders to the fridge, looking over her shoulder before grabbing the ‘kiwi melon’ juice from the bottom shelf - a sneaky smile playing at her lips. She knows it’s rude to pry and take what’s not yours, but if she’s going to be miserable at a party, shouldn't she at least have a good drink? With that same smile, she pours some of the pinkish liquid into her wine, doing a little shimmy in excitement from her silly idea at making herself happy. That moment was cut short when a heavy hand landed on the small of her waist, her body jolting from the shock of someone touching her so suddenly, heart hammering from the fright. She frowns at the puddle of juice on the counter before her eyes finally land on the culprit that had scared the daylights out of her - being met with a smiling Grayson, close to her face and a strong arm around her back. God, please stop messing with my hormones. 

“You know mixing isn't good for you right?” 

Hearing his low voice made her shiver, staring at him for just a bit too long before she broke the staring spell and responded shyly, “I’m probably not even gonna drink it honestly, I just thought maybe the juice would make it taste less bitter,” she laughed, reaching forward to secure the cap back on the juice, not interested in drinking the nasty wine anymore. Talking to him was much better. 

“Not much alcohol really tastes sweet, babe,” he laughed, sliding his massive arm off of her and leaning with his lower back flesh to the counter next to her. Peaking at him under her eyelashes, she admires how cute he looks with a hat on, he never wore them much in the past. His lips were tinged red from having a the neck of a beer bottle pressed against them throughout the night. She also chose to ignore the pet name that tumbled out through his teasing remark, knowing it didn't mean anything but if she thought about it long enough, the hopeless romantic in her would over analyze it. Ripping a paper towel from the roll above the sink, she attempted to clean the counter of the juice, lip curling at the wet feeling against her fingertips. She didn't like messes.  

“Yeah,” she agreed, “you just kind of have to chug it and the taste will be gone soon enough. It’s really the feeling that’s nice.” 

She knew it sounded bad as soon as it left her mouth, but chose to hide behind her hair once again, her blush would only make it more obvious that she hadn't meant to say something that sounded so vulgar. Grayson wasn’t a pervert or anything, but this conversation suddenly had him thinking about how she would be with her mouth. And it that was not how he wanted to see her when she had just sat in his living room and been made fun of for the exact opposite. He didn't want to be another one of those people that saw her for her body and nothing else - but he couldn't deny his attraction.  Instead of indulging in vulgar thoughts of her mouth and body, he slid in closer and gazed down at her doe eyes, flickering from his lips, down to his now closer chest, then back up to his eyes. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” 

“Yeah, Gray,” she nodded, “I’m fine, really. I’m used to it.” 

Gray. She hadn't called him that in what felt like ages. It slipped out in habit, and from the small smile tugging at his lips, she knew he didn't mind. He’d always loved when she called him that, let him know there was some level of trust between them. 

“You don’t have to be, though,” he told her earnestly, “I mean it - I can talk to them if you want...they shouldn't be treating you like that.” 

“It’s really whatever,” she huffed, getting just a tiny bit angrier, not at him, just the issue. Tossing the soggy paper towels into the bin in the corner, she dumps the contents in her glass down the sink, and rinses out the empty glass, “It doesn't get to me anymore.” 

Grayson’s stare burnt through the side of her face, his calm blinking letting her know he saw right through her bullshit. It did get to her, it got down to her very core and made the humiliation so unbearable she resulted to drinking wine that tasted like battery acid mixed with juice that was probably outdated, just to distract her from the embarrassment. He also knew it embarrassed her from the shaky rise and fall of her chest. That and the next words that flew from her mouth were so full of frustration and resentment, he almost choked, “I mean it’s like, yeah, okay I've never had a dick in my mouth, but does that make me a bad person?” 

He raised a hand to cover his smile, chuckling into his own hand. He didn't want to seem insensitive by laughing at her. Getting himself somewhat under control, he droned out with an amused smile, “Definitely not a bad person.” 

“Mhm,” she hummed, looking down at her hands perched on the edge of the counter. She would be panicking at being so open with him, but honestly he made it feel so natural she couldn't overthink it much, “I would rant more but I don’t want to waste your time explaining how much of a prude I am.” Her voice was sad, like she genuinely believed it was something he thought about her - would ever think about her. He watched her try and distance herself from him. not wanting to discuss her biggest insecurity in fear it would make him look at her different - as if he looked at her period.  

“I don’t think you’re a prude,” Grayson told her honestly. She looked so pretty staring up at him through her long lashes, blinking with a confused gaze. He knew she was confused by his kindness, “I just think they have no respect for themselves.”

“Well I don’t know about that,” she shrugged, “don’t get me wrong, there isn't anything wrong with sleeping around. I just wished they understood and respected why I don’t, you know?” 

“Well it’s like, wouldn’t you rather have sex with a friend? Someone who you get along with, trust, and cares about you?”

It was a genuine question and with one look she could tell he actually meant the words he said. He wasn't just saying them to appeal to her and make her feel better, even if that was part of it deep down under the surface. 

“But that’s not what any of them are like with me. I don’t trust any of them and I don’t think even one of them gives a damn about me,” she grumbled, “I would never. With any of them.” 

He chose his next words carefully, not wanting her to take him the wrong way. 

“But you would with someone who treats you right?” Grayson questioned, ignoring that the words sounded and inferred that he was asking for his own benefit. It was an obvious answer, but he had asked anyway. 

“Yes.” She swallowed, looking up at him nervously. Curiosity swam behind his eyes and she was starting to think he was getting at something, becoming the tiniest bit jittery under his stare. 

“Understandable,” he nodded, hair flopping from under his hat. “It’s better to be with someone you trust, always has been that way. Always will be. But don’t let them get to you, it will come.” 

Y/n looked up at his drunk little smile and felt oddly safe once again, a genuine smile rising to her face, it took his breath away. He took his time scanning her soft features, licking at his lips unknowingly. 

“I know, Grayson. You’re really sweet, thank you for listening,” she mumbled, that same bright smile aimed right at him. 

His head bobbed in a nod, a purse at his lips - he was holding something back. Her heart stopped at his next words.

“And, maybe this is taking this way too far and maybe i’m a little more drunk than i thought but - i mean - i’d do whatever the fuck you wanted me to do to you in a heartbeat, Y/n. No questions asked.” He blew a breath through his nose, on high alert now that he’d said something so bold - unsure of her reaction. Her blush gave him a great deal of satisfaction. 

“Um...right,” she muttered, unsure of what to say now that he had been so open with her. What he was saying had her mind reeling, tossing over idea after idea of what he would mean. She couldn't ignore the clenching in her nether region at his innuendo, trying to ignore it the best she could. It was impossible with his eyes scanning over her face. She tried passing it off for the fact he was intoxicated, and probably didn't mean what he said. Normally, on any other day, she would be immensely annoyed at any boy saying such a thing to her, assuming he only wanted her for her body. Most of the time it ended up being true. Maybe it was her being naive to think this was different, but he had already made it clear that getting into her pants wasn't her intention - and she believed him. 

The way he’d said it, was so honest it had her panicking slightly on the inside. It wasn’t that he was saying these things for his own benefit, it truly sounded like he meant the words that he was saying - that if given the opportunity, he would focus on her pleasure and not delve into a sea of greed that so many of the guys she’s come in contact with had. They just wanted to pleasure themselves. The steadiness of his voice indicated that he wanted to make her feel good. It made her giddy inside. Without the intention of getting her hopes up, she hid her blush behind her hand. Maybe he did like her back? 

It was childish to think such a thing, and she knew it as well as anyone else. How could she possibly know what anyone else, much less a guy, wanted when she couldn't even decide for herself? Peaking over at him once again, she’s shocked to find him staring at her still. 

“Was that perverted? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” his kind eyes widened to saucers, seemingly reading something behind her eyes she didn't realize was there. It was just so damn hard to hide her nerves when everything was so foreign to her - the ‘everything’ being flirting and sexual innuendos that she actually didn’t mind. His eyes dropped to the floor, his own frown adorning his handsome fact, “Was it? Because I’m sorry if I offended you or anything I’ve just had a lot to drink-”

“It’s alright, Grayson,” she giggled to hide her anxiousness. His worried expression turned into one of relief, his smile mirroring hers, “You’re just drunk, I get it. Don’t worry about me.” 

They watched as a girl not much older than her stumbled through the kitchen on broken heels, clearly out of her mind drunk. The giggling, clumsy teen disappeared behind the corner and into the bathroom, two of her friends following close behind with their own drinks in their hands - shouting her name with drunken slurs. She looked on at the messy college girl, smirking at Grayon’s shaking head. He seemed to be amused by her trashy behavior. As if he could feel her eyes on him, his stare returned to her face once again, an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on swimming in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed, voice low - blinking down at her slowly, “just drunk.” 

“You okay?” she tilted her head when he tore his gaze away once again, wanting to be there for him like he had for her. She waited patiently while he bobbed his head up and down again - looking a bit unsure. 

“Yeah, I just uh...” he trailed off, blowing a puff of air from his lips again, “I just need a smoke that’s all.” 

That was his only explanation, for some reason, she didn’t believe it as much as she thought she should have. He just looked so damn nervous, it gave her more reason for concern. But she shrugged anyway, nodding herself, “So have one then.” 

“You wanna come with?” he offered with a hopeful tone, nudging at her shoulder with a small smile. 

“That’s alright. It’s cold outside,” she pulls an excuse from the air, not really wanting to travel back outside because she knows if she leaves she won’t want to come back - and being stranded doesn’t sound like the most appealing option. Neither does asking someone random for a ride. Her friends would only mock her further for wanting to leave so early. 

“I was actually gonna head up to my room and open a window, not really a fan of smoking outside. Too much effort,” he jokes, chuckling to himself. At least he was honest. 

Y/n swallowed down her nerves, not wanting to keep turning him away when he was trying to go the extra mile to talk to her and wanted to - for some unknown reason - spend time with her. She wouldn't choose herself from a crowd of college kids, that’s for sure. 

“Oh, um...yeah, sure, okay.” She hated the way he made her fumble with her words, made her nervous and jittery. She had always been that way around him, at a loss of what to do or say, totally enamored by him. She also hated smoking, but she wanted to be alone with him more than she wanted to admit. She would brave the smoke if it meant she got him all to herself for just a while. With her gentle nod came another one of Grayson’s award winning smiles, a hand coming forward to grab at hers to her surprise - tugging her through the living room and over to the stairs packed with sweaty dancing bodies. It made her lip curl in distaste. 

Following him up the stairs made her feel safe, untouchable in fact - hiding behind his large body kind of had that special effect. Like nothing could touch her. There were eyes that lingered on the pair of you along the way, darting from you to Grayson and back again. Someone shot her a smirk, some a full smile, and some even gave her a thumbs up as if to say: good luck. They could make their assumptions, Lord knows they did anyhow. 

And of course, like she had presumed, Grayson’s room was at the end of the long hallway - the last door on the left. It made her smile thinking back to her hometown where she had walked close behind him down the hallway of his home and into his bedroom to spend hours listening to him scream at some video game she never cared for and talk about how ready they were to get out of that town. She was first, the shy neighbor, and then his neighbor friend. It was an upgrade that meant the world to her at the time, even though he left her to herself when he moved away. They had been a team and his room had been their sanctuary. 

She was grinning when they stepped through the door and her eyes met the familiar white bedding he’d had had that same warm day in spring - when he had invited her to sit and talk a while. The only thing he’d added that she could notice were some rich emerald green colored pillows, the plush kind that probably felt like a cloud to sleep on. He was a simple kind of guy. Not many people knew - but there was a stitched in red robin on the underside of his duvet - courtesy of Lisa - his wonderful mother. Y/n always had a great deal of respect for the kind-hearted woman. She called the tiny hidden stitching her ‘Easter egg’ - something unexpected but always appreciated. If you didn’t pull back the right corner, you’d never even know it was there. 

Shaking her head out of her thoughts, Y/n tore her eyes away from the perfectly made bed (He always lectured her on making the bed, said it was ‘the first dose of accomplishment for the day’ - (simple but essential) and looked over to Grayson who had taken a seat on the large cushioned windowsill and was now bending forward to push on the window with one arm - the clear glass swinging outwards, letting in the breeze of crisp night air. It was a cool night, not too warm, not too cold - but just right. Just like every moment she spent with him. Peaking out of the window, Y/n could see a vegetable garden in the corner of the backyard, smiling with the knowledge that Grayson had probably put in maximum effort to get a garden so fresh and taken care of in a house full of frat boys that only cared about a good fuck and beer. It was odd to see something like a garden in a place that felt so disconnected from the world, that it nearly made her laugh. But instead, she took a moment to thank the Gods above that no one was outside. Because if they only looked up, she was sure they would be able to tell how nervous she was down to her very bones while her fingers twisted around each other - waiting for the right words to come to her. 

Satisfied with the crack in the window, Grayson leans back and to the side to tuck a large hand into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a yellow lighter. He lights the end of the stick as Y/n stood still by the door - wondering whether or not to close it. She wondered for a moment what message it might give and if it was one she wanted. 

It was so weird to watch him smoke when she remembered him being the biggest health buff she knew. She couldn’t ever predict to see a cigarette  resting between his fingers. But she had to admit it looked damn hot to see him suck in a drag between his plump lips, just to slowly ease it back out the window and into the night. The smoke danced for a minute against the screen before sneaky through the holes. It was mesmerizing, truly. He made everything look beautiful, and that was coming from a girl that gagged at the mere smell of smoke. 

Grayson’s body shifts on the windowsill, in pursuit of (probably) easing her nerves he could feel bouncing all around the room- when she lifts the heel of her foot and kicks the door closed behind her with a small *click*. A shaky hand follows as she reaches back to twist the lock to the right, trying not to think too much whether she would soon regret the split second decision or not. With one look at his warm, welcoming smile, she doubted it. 

“Do you wanna?” he asked her through the soft gold lamp light. Normally, the thought of smoking would make a chill run down her spine and repulse her for the rest of the day, but watching him make it look so...not gross and disgusting, had her thinking. 

“Oh, no thank you, I don’t smoke,” Y/n told him earnestly, shaking her head the tiniest bit. 

“Yeah I knew that, just thought maybe you had tried it a time or two since I last saw you...had a rebellious moment-” he gave her a wink at that, knowing she was the least rebellious person he had ever come across in his life. He just loved to tease her, “can I ask why you haven't?” 

“Just haven’t,” she said honestly, taking a few small steps to slide onto the edge of the bed - worried that if she sat with him at the window she might combust. 

“That’s okay,” Grayson chuckled, rising from his seat by the window and claiming a spot on the bed right next to her, “you could try it at least once, though. It won’t kill you.” 

That’s a lie, she wanted to say - but instead smacked her lips in thought, gazing up at the smile behind his eyes. He just made everything feel so safe and okay. Even something she had always viewed as disgusting and wrong, he suddenly had her pondering on. Y/n was so distracted with her own thoughts for a moment, she almost didn’t notice him holding the cigarette out to her. She looked at the white roll between his fingers, the smoke wafting up into her nose and she almost made a face, but stopped herself. A wave of panic went through because - fuck - was she really going to do this? What was the reason to go back on everything she believed in about smoking? She never wanted to, so what made this situation any different? 

“I guess not...I just don’t know how to do it,” she admitted. She’s sure it’s not rocket science, but she’s seen enough of her friends cough and gag to be convinced it’s easy for your first time ever trying. And she’s pretty positive she would never - and will never - attempt smoking again after tonight. Only for Grayson, she chanted to herself, only this once for him and then never again. Since when has she ever been subject to peer pressure? She scolded herself, knowing she should never say yes to something she is unsure of, but really wanting to make him proud for some reason. 

“I’ll show you,” he nodded at her and then to the cigarette in his hand, pulling her from her racing thoughts.  Raising the cigarette up, he held it pin straight in front of her face. Y/n gave him a skeptical look, heaving out a sigh, but took the roll anyway - holding it awkwardly in front of her lips. This is so wrong, this is gross, this is bad, she whined to herself, but smacked the thought away. 

“That’s it, now just wrap the dry bit of your lips around it-” he instructed her softly, and she could almost swear her heart was going to explode from the tone he was using, “that’s it.” 

Y/n followed his gentle direction, not daring to look at him while she did something she vowed to never partake in. But how could you say no to a face like his? 

“Now inhale, but breathe in. Don’t force the air down or anything like that, just take it in and pull it down until you feel it here-” he tapped a finger against her chest, goosebumps raising right where he had touched her. She prayed he didn’t notice - even if she saw his eyes linger on her skin for just a few seconds longer. 

With a burst of bravery, she sucked in on the stick, taking in a deep breath. She could feel it like a heavy cloud sitting in her throat and on her tongue before she sputtered it back out with a sickly sounding cough. Bad idea. She cringed as the smoke oozed from her nostrils as well, followed by a harsh pain. 

Grayson laughed lightly watching her grimace and hold it back out to him with panic, “No?” 

No, she agreed in her head, but instead shook her head and brought it back in front of her face with a disgusted scowl. He raised a prominent eyebrow at her in question and disbelief. Really again? His eyes talked back to her. 

“Just um... let me go again,” she urged, clearing her throat and ignoring the burning sensation that followed in result of her coughing fit only moments prior. She just wanted to look tough in front of him. Not that she owed him anything, but herself maybe. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I don’t really want to be responsible for your death,” he laughed, taking it back from her. He would never force her to do anything she was uncomfortable with. With a pout she huffs. 

“Let me try again,” she whined slightly, holding her hand out. She tried giving him her best ‘please give into me’ eyes, but she wasn’t sure it worked until the corner of his lips started to curve upwards. 

His hesitation made her smile, hesitation was closer to a yes than a no. But he shook is head soon after, and he couldn’t catch her bottom lip fast enough before it popped out into a pout. She wanted to at least take a drag without all but coughing up her lungs. That’s all, after that she would let it go. She never had the desire to smoke in the first place. 

“Okay,” Grayson decided with a huff, “I wanna try something real quick. Can you come a little closer for me?” 

With a slight nod Y/n scoots herself closer to him on the edge of the bed, knees now touching his slightly. He’s close enough now that if she leans in just a bit, they would be kissing. The thought makes goosebumps pop up along the skin of her arms, something she hopes he pays no mind to. But instead, she sits with a dumbfounded look while he smiles brightly at her. 

“Now part your lips,” he nods at her, eyes glued to her plump rosy lips that tempt him more than she will ever realize.She’s looking at him innocently, only making it harder for him to think about the mean things that were said about her downstairs. He’d love nothing more than to kick all of their asses when they finish up in his room.  

With her compliance comes the knowledge that she’s gotten herself into some trouble when he takes the end of the cigarette into his own mouth, wraps his own lips tightly around the white stick and sucks in hard. She admires the way his eyes droop shut with the long drag, and gasps in a small breath when his hand reaches up to grab loosely at her chin, pulling her face even closer. A daring move. 

“Try what?” she frowned, looking up and into his intense eyes that all but glare at her now. A fire erupts somewhere in her when he ducks his face down to place his lips over hers lightly, almost hovering and resisting the urge to plant them fully upon hers just as he exhales the smoke into her open mouth. She jumps when she feels the smoke swirling in her mouth like liquid, warm - but something tells her that’s not what has her sweating right there on the bed. 

With her eyes pinched shut and tried to focus on the subtle burn that was in fact less overwhelming than her first time trying to smoke herself - but all she could seem to focus on or much rather care about, was his satin soft lips moving ever so slightly as he blows out the rest of the smoke into her mouth. The light pressure causing her head to spin in circles, his hand on her chin ensuring that her face stay near to his. 

With a dizzy head and a heart that just wouldn’t stop racing, she exhales the smoke out of her nostrils between them, Grayson’s head pulling back just a bit to let the grayish swirls of smoke drift away and disappear. 

“How about that?” he whispered, staring at her with softened eyes. She hadn’t coughed, so he took that as a good sign. 

Swallowing nervously, she taps at her knee with her fingers, trying to avoid his eyes altogether. He was just...too much to look at. Too kind, too handsome, too understanding of things he didn’t have to be. She thought she might feel sick with herself after endeavoring in such a disgusting act...but surprisingly, she just felt accomplished. She hadn’t hacked up a lung, and he wasn’t running for the hills like she thought he might. Her innocence sometimes frightened people. Especially those with no real understanding of the finer things in life. But Grayson wasn’t one of those people, and she knew she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Better,” she finally managed to squeak out. And for once, she wasn’t lying. In fact, it was the most truthful thing she’d said in a very long time. When you were putting on a show for dozens of people, it felt a bit strange to say something that wasn’t robotic and programmed. Even if was just once word. That would was hers. 

“Why was it better, Y/n?” Grayson whispered again, still staring right through her. His eyes seemed darker now, a pit of something she couldn’t put her finger on. 

“I-I um...don’t know really it’s jus-” 

“Can I kiss you?” He cut her off seriously, turning only for a moment to toss the cigarette into an ashtray on the nightstand, and it was actually kind of astonishing how good of a shot it was, “just once.” 

“W-why?” she whimpered, confused and flattered and unsure of what to think. 

Is this just another joke? Another prank to be pulled off by her ‘friends’? There has to be a camera somewhere. Someone waiting behind the door, just waiting to bust in with a group if people and laugh at her. 

“Does it matter why?” he smirked, still holding her chin softly. His touch felt so delicate. Like she was a little porcelain doll he had to handle with care. 

“I mean...a little,” she admitted, “ people don’t usually randomly ask me to kiss them.” 

“Because I actually like you,” he began quietly, so so quiet, “because you’re beautiful, you really understand things for what they are, and people make fun of you for it.” 

They are both surprised when she lets out an amused scoff, one hand raising to cover her mouth for just a moment at her outburst. Her eyes are wide, but within a moment she’s lowering her hand back down to what she thought was her own lap...but ended up being Grayson’s knee. She’s speaking before she can think to remove her hand first. 

“I am not beautiful, Grayson,” she mutters, shyly and ashamed. 

It’s almost like he’s been shot, to hear her say such a thing. To hear her lie. She can’t possibly think that about herself? 

“Y/n,” he breathes with a shake of his head, “the first time I saw you it felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.” Maybe it was the way he said it with such sincerity, the genuine emotion behind his words, or the way his lips ushered the words right out of his - but she found her heart fluttering and her head nodding at his request. 

“Okay,” she decided, not sure if he’d understand but hoping she wouldn’t have to actually say what she was okaying. 

“Okay? I can-” he checked, flicking his hazel eyes from her lips and back up again. 

“Yes, I mean yeah, I mean...okay,” she laughed, so beyond nervous she couldn’t prepare herself for what was about to come next. Something spectacular. Something magical. At least, that’s what she always thought it would be like kissing Grayson. Her only thought was that she didn’t want to be the one to lean in, and thankfully she didn’t have to. Grayson was leaning in in no time, and she was thankful for his confidence. It was something she was always lacking.  

His head tilted in such a way that he kissed her lips at this angle, this oh so special angle, one that she felt her body melt at. Her head dropped to the side as his lips put pressure against hers, his hand still placed right under her chin while his lips ghosted and danced over her own. 

With the thought of her hands remaining to herself being just too sad to handle, she delicately placed her fingers upon his waist. She could feel the heat of him under his shirt, and somehow that simple fact made her shiver, lean into him more. She didn’t squeeze, just touched at his waist - dipping her toes into the water so to say. Grayson being a little more invested for the time being, captured her upper lip with another roll of pressure. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp at the movement. She knew she wasn’t the best kisser, only having kissed a few times, and none of those times ended up being all that great - but she was trying. 

Despite her lack of confidence and the nerves threatening to make her wretch at any moment, she wanted to take it further. Not just one kiss, little pecks. She wanted a kiss: heavy tongues and puckering noises. She wanted the full kiss, the ones all her friends had and bragged about when she sat around being sad she hadn’t yet experienced something so electric. 

With an act of bravery, she let that hand that rested on his waist close in to squeeze at him, digging her nails in to the fabric and  applying just the right amount of pressure to have him kissing her deeper. She then took it a step further, sliding her other hand up to tug the hat resting on his head backwards off and clutch at his locks of chocolaty hair. She was proud of herself when his hand came up to grip at her own waist and she didn’t so much as jump, warning bells didn’t sound off in her head, she wasn’t afraid. She let him just like she let herself. 

Their kisses still weren’t long, just lingering pecks and lips squeezing one another’s. Y/n was the first to open her mouth, the first to show a sign of wanting something beyond the innocent pecking. Pulling back for just a second, she wraps her lips around his plump bottom one, pulling for a second before popping it free. 

Grayson makes a small sound, something like a grunt mixed with a breath, and slacked his jaw a bit to kiss her harder. Much harder. This was what she wanted. He was hungry for it now. With that new excitement, came the shock of his tongue colliding with hers. At first, she jumped on the mattress, her fingers stilled in his hair, but he kept her close. She recovered from her shock quickly and tried to not make any noise that might embarrass her when his wet heavy tongue rolled against hers, one of his large hands coming to press into her back. It was so smooth, the way he knew exactly how to angle his mouth, kiss her at just the right spots, apply just the right pressure. It pulled her into him more than the hand at her back. 

Her mouth grew hotter, tingles spreading from her lips down her collarbones, her shoulders, and to the tips of her fingers that were still locked in his hand and tethered to the fabric of his shirt. And it was almost comical that she liked the slight bitterness from the smoke they had inhaled minutes prior to their kiss, added an extra buzz to her nerves. This was so unlike her, but somehow...exactly like her in every way. She honestly didn’t really know who she was because of how often she had to conform to what everyone else thought she be. 

Y/n felt his firm hands become greedy quickly, his body just itching to do something to hers. A ball of excitement sat down low in her stomach, growing to a steady burn that spread out through the rest of her body, pushing out as a sigh she will think back on and be horrified about for the rest of her days. But in the moment? Kissing Grayson in a frat house? After smoking her first cigarette? She didn’t give a damn that she made any sounds of pleasure, in fact she wanted him to know just how good his lips felt moving against hers. He fought off the urge to act on his hunger, not wanting to be that guy. He wasn’t that guy. He never had been. Especially with her, he would be patient. If kissing was all she would ever want to do, he would be okay with it. 

“Gray,” she breathed, way too caught up in the heat of the moment to realize the weight of what she was about to say,” “Gray let me touch you.” 

Grayson stopped the steady speed of their kiss and pulled his tongue from hers, still holding her face close, but backed his head up just enough to get a look right into her beautiful eyes. With a thick swallow and a small shake of his head he’s finally blabbering out a confused, “What?” 

“Just...let me,” she begged, tightening the fist in his hair to really let him know she means it, “let me please.” 

And she did mean it, that she was sure of. She wasn’t sure if it really was the fact that she had a bit to drink tonight, of it was just the moment and she was high off of the way his lips felt, or the fact that she had liked him for so long anyway - but she wanted to fucking touch him. She wasn’t even sure to what extent, just that she wanted to feel the weight of the situation and go outside of her comfort zone. She was ready to go somewhere with him. She trusted him more than half of her jackass ‘friends’ anyway. 

“Y/n,” he began after a moment of irritating silence, “you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for. We can just kiss, I promise I’m okay with just kissing you.” 

“But I want too, Grayson,” she whimpered, sliding her knee up his thigh, to show just how much. She tried to show with that simple motion that she thought now was perfect, her chance to finally let loose and just dive head first into her first sexual encounter. Her first real one anyway. It wasn’t just getting it out of the way. It wasn’t her acting on some rash urge to be like the other sex crazed people around her. It wasn’t a cry for acceptance. It was her about the opportunity she had pictured for so long was now before her and she didn’t want to throw it away due to the nerves pumping through her at lightning speed. She didn’t want to be afraid of intimacy anymore. 

“Y/n/n,” he whispered, “you really don’t have to. Don’t think that’s why I kissed you. I was fully expecting for us just to kiss.” 

“No,” she promised, leaning forward and dipping her head to the side to kiss at his sharp jaw, “show me how it’s done please, Gray. Show me how to make you cum. Wanna know how you like it.” 

Grayson swallowed loudly again, the head that was once holding her face now wrapped lightly around her neck. It was simply resting there, no intention or purpose. But she felt that same hand tighten just a bit at her words.

“Jesus, Y/n. You’re drunk, bub. You would never be saying this if you were sober,” he mumbled out to her, looking at her in the eyes. It almost made her feel better. Almost. 

But it still stung. Because there is was. There it fucking was. Even if he denied that he found her frigid like all the others, he still didn’t believe she had any form of sexual desire. That she couldn’t possibly have any confidence with her body. That she wasn’t like that. That she was worthless when it came to her body and the only time she would ever desire getting or giving any type of sexual pleasure is when she was drunk. 

Pulling her head back and away from his hand while trying to avoid the pity in his eyes, she decided that instead of shutting down and taking the sting in her heart home with her - she was going to prove him wrong. Because he was. She could do more than sit and look pretty, even if that’s what made her most comfortable on any other day. She wanted to suck his dick. It was that simple. She wanted it and she knew he wanted it just as bad, even if he was going to try and be a gentleman about it. 

Grayson watched her slip to her knees on the floor in front of him, never breaking the stare they had kept for a few long minutes now. She was pulling apart his legs in no time, her grip firm. He sucked in a breath when her silk soft lips fell to the inside part of his knee, the soft material of the tight fitting black sweats he was wearing softer than what she had assumed. Reaching a hand up, she twisted and pulled at the tie in the front, undoing it quickly, grazing over a bump in his underwear that he couldn’t hide even if he tried as she shifted closer to him on the edge of the bed. 

“Y/n,” he grabbed at her hand, trying not to choke when she gave him a dead look, like she would rather him do anything else but stop her, “are you sure you want this? I don’t want you to regret anything.” 

“Yes, Grayson. I’m not a fucking prude.” 

And there is was. That same word that was thrown at her all the time, for years she’s had to hear the same insult. But she didn’t have to prove anything to him. She was safe with him, even if he did want to fuck her senseless he would never act on any of those thoughts unless the time was right and she was 100% completely ready for that stepping stone in her life. Sitting there looking into her eyes, seeing the determination, it made his heart speed up he wouldn’t lie about that. 

“You don’t have to-” he huffed and put his hands to his face in frustration, “you don’t have to prove that to me.” 

It was sweet, the way he tried to validate her, make her feel safe. But he didn’t understand, she wanted him. 

“I know that,” she nodded, “but why does it have to stop me from doing the things I want to do?” 

As Grayson stared down at her, he was scared for a moment that she would able to see in his eyes how desperately he wanted her to go down on him, and didn’t want her to also think that was the goal with bringing her up to his room. He didn’t and would never want to pressure her into anything. If Grayson knew anything, it was that she deserved the best. So he made a promise to himself right there on the edge of his bed that he would treat her like a fucking goddess during and after whatever they were about to do. That he would show that he cared about her, because he did. And he knew he always had.

“Fuck, okay. As long as you’re sure,” he whispered gruffly, feeling his dick twitch from the simple bat of her eyelashes up at him. She smirked at this, tugging at the elastic of his sweats. 

Grayson complied by shifting his hips up and watched her drag them down his muscular legs and to his feet, yanking his ankles apart as much as she could in the denim. She stopped when she noticed the lack of shoes on his feet, now remembering him slipping them off in the time she came into the room earlier. But what really made her stop was the tattoo on top of his foot. She tapped at it twice with a smirk, but didn’t say anything. It calmed her nerves only slightly that his fingers were tapping on the bed nervously. She was thankful she wasn’t the only one. 

He'd just never had a virgin suck him off before. That and it was Y/n for Christ’s sake. She had always been too damn good for him and he put off any idea of ever being anything more than friends with her because he was 1. going away for college and 2. sure that she would find some dreamy successful kind of guy that would smoke his ass any day. But...there was was...choosing him. 

“Show me, Gray,” she whispered softly, sitting with her hands in her lap, twiddling with her fingers. 

He nodded immediately, the innocence in her voice ushering him to take her face in his hands when she came back up, just to tilt his head and land a sweet kiss on her lips. Just to let her know that he was going to take care of her, that it meant something. He was again glad that he was the guy she chose to have her first sexual encounter with. Not one of the dumbfucks downstairs that only wanted to fuck her and throw her away like a piece of trash. Grayson was respectful, and he was going to give her a comfortable experience no matter what. 

Y/n found herself stuck with what to do already. She had built up all this fire, but it was like she was standing on a stage with a spotlight pointing down at her - completely frozen. But she wasn’t dumb, she knew she had to get him hard first. Raising a dainty hand, she squeezed his clothes length, already half hard and massive. Y/n chose not to mention how big he was and instead inhaled and deep breath into her lungs, trying to stifle whatever stupid nervous thought was threatening to talk her out of what she wanted. With that breath, she took the time to pull the hem down and under his length. 

“Okay-shit,” he whispered once again, voice shaking even more than before when her hand came up to wrap around his bare shaft now. “Holy shii-okay.” He tried breathing in deep a couple times when he felt her hot palm around him, making blood rush down his body only making him that much harder in her hand. “Fuck, this is gonna sound gross but spit in your hand.” 

For a moment, she thought he was joking, and sat with his weight in her hand, but when she looked up to his pouted lower lip with no sign of amusement she knew he was serious and her cheeks grew a darker shade of red. Letting him go for just a second, she followed his direction and grabbed at him again, feeling slicker. 

“Shit-now move your hand for me,” he grunted, trying his best to not be greedy and thrust already. She needed to take all the time she needed. 

Slowly at first, Y/n moved her hand up and down, discovering that with each tug, his dick became smoother and wetter to the touch. Just looking at the massive cock in front of her made her nervous to put him in her mouth. He was just...so big. And the length was there too, along with the girth. This was quite the achievement for her first time. She tried getting him completely there with each flick of her wrist, speeding up gradually, slowing her hand up around the tip and thumbing the slit at the end. He was long and hard, his tip pink and dripping after her thumb dragged away from his slit. She wasn’t sure the effect it would have, but suppressed a grin when he jerked in her hand. 

He jolted with a deep moan that made her eyes shoot up to his in shock. 

“Fuck, that felt good,” he admitted, voice thick. 

It made her feel proud, that he sounded so breathless and bothered by her hand moving on his dick. The way he breathed it through his lips, like he was thinking it to himself and hadn’t even meant for it to come out, but he couldn’t help it. Kind of made her want to kiss him again. 

Grayson looked quite brooding over her, with a sharp dropped jaw and puffed up chest. He watched her every move when she couldn’t be bothered to tear her eyes away from his cock being pumped to filth by her own dainty hand. He carefully took her fringe back and behind her ear as her mouth came up and kissed his tip. Grayson quivered on his own bed, rolling his head back from the feeling of her soft lips that pressed against him for just a second. Such a soft gesture, with some dirty intent. The sight of her lips pressing to the tip of his cock almost affectionately, made him more desperate than he’d admit, like she loved it. 

“Take off your top,” she spoke quietly, wanting to see his body. He obliged, yanking off his shirt with lightning speed. Her eyes went wide at the first sliver of his toned stomach that appeared and she gulped. Damn, she was nervous by how fit he truly was. Grayson always did have a certain love for fitness she always admired. 

She’s brought back to the matter at hand when she feels a warmth on her hand, her gaze dropping to his dick once again. He sat hard and waiting for her next move, whatever that was anyway. Thankfully she didn’t have to ponder for much longer because Grayson rides in on that white horse to save her once again. 

“Just take the tip now, babe,” he soothed her through his, grabbing her hair in his hand lightly once he settled into just the right position. The little pet name had slipped out, and for a second he thought she didn’t notice until her lips curved into a smirk. Y/n is closing her eyes and leaning in close, wrapping her lips around him at last. Tight, hot, and wet. All the sensations he felt when her lips finally enveloped around his tip. 

“Jesus Christ,” he swore, heart hammering away from just the first feeling of her. 

He really didn’t know what to think when her tongue started swiping and rolling along his shaft. She figured that maybe it wasn’t all about the sucking. Maybe she could play around a little, give him kisses up the side, wet and sloppy. Look at him while she tongued at his tip, smoothed her tongue over his balls for just a second. 

“Oh fuck, roll your tongue on my just like that, that’s it,” he groaned, hips jerking from all the teasing on his tip. He’d always been a sucker for that sort of thing, she was learning his weak spots early, “doing so good, angel.” 

She hummed with a smile, batting her eyelashes up at him in hopes of looking at precious as possible. He looked like a sweating mess above her already, droplets glistening along the lines of his tanned abs. 

“Shit,” he panted heavily when she stuck her tongue out and took a hard lick to his tip once again, tongue sliding up his thin slit to flick against her teeth - her hand wrapped around his base. 

She rubbed him up and down, going just a bit faster and spreading her spit up his length. 

“Is this okay?” she checked, gazing up at him, continuing to twist her hand. 

“Yes,” he swallowed, “Yes, just uh fuck- go a little fast for me, Y/n. Move your hand faster.” 

She flicked her wrist against his throbbing cock, feeling much more confident now that he was moaning quietly and his chest moved rapidly with his quickened breathing. He was losing it, absolutely losing it, but he would try to keep it together in case she needed more guidance. But she felt sexy as hell - powerful even. Looking up at his eyes with a flutter to her lashes, a smirk coming up her face that he couldn’t detach his eyes from even if he tried. The little devil knew her power over him. She had to at this point. 

“You liking this, Gray?” she smiled brightly, knowing the answer but asking anyway. 

“So fucking much baby, doing so good for me,” he grunted, head thrown back in bliss with just her hand stroking him. 

With the new found confidence blazing through her and his eyes not watching her every move for once, she raised up again and held her hair back, her hand a bit sticky for obvious reasons. She didn’t have time to worry about a sticky hand when she was about to suck dick for the first time, Grayson’s dick at that. 

Slowly she slid her lips down his shaft, focused on taking medium length pulls that soon sped up once he had gathered her hair back and she could place both hands on his thighs to steady herself. 

“Meet your lips with your hand, baby,” he moaned, biting at his lip, watching her take as much of him as she could. 

Not having enough energy to do much else other than comply, she closed her lips tighter around him, feeling her saliva drip down onto her fist that met with her lips now. However; all she could focus on was the way he was breathing, the heavy rise and fall of his stomach. The sighs and moans of her name that spilled out of his mouth to encourage her further. She could feel his thighs shaking slightly, which made her head spin from the mere thought of him being so overworked by her actions. She sucked at him faster, and she soon realized she loved the dirty suction sound her mouth was making around him, the way his cock reached a place deep down her throat. 

“Fuck- mhmm gonna cum,” he got out through his pleasured whines, “stop babe, back up m’cumming.” 

“I know,” she assured him. 

She knew what was coming. But she’d come this far so it wasn’t like she was going to stop. She hummed around hum and it just made his pleasure increase, the hand holding her hand wrapping just a bit tighter with selfish desire as he took one last deep breath and closed his eyes with relief. 

He finished in her mouth in long, hot spurts. Spilling out on her awaiting tongue. Y/n kept sucking, trying her best to keep her lips tight - having some thought that if she just kept sucking he would be dry at some point, but he was still wet with her spit. 

He was wrecked before her, absolutely spent. He panted loudly above her as she swallowed and looked back at him with her doe eyes and a hopeful smile. 

“Was I good?” she teased sweetly. 

Fuck you, he wanted to say, so fucking high on pleasure that he honestly would have if it had been any other person besides her. He was just that caught up. But instead of that crude comment, he chose to fall back on the bed with a huff and a “Fucking hell.” 

It was nice to see him completely spent and worn out like he was, she had to admit. Made her feel powerful, like she wasn’t some princess that just had to have the world at her feet. Although, watching him flop back on the bed with a smile did make her feel like she did carry the world in the palm of her hands. He was...beautiful. 

“It’s just not right that it was your first time,” he joked, still panting, “you’re so good at it.” 

Finally having the strength to lift herself up off the floor, she stands on wobbly knees and confidently crawled up his body, careful of his sensitive length laying against his abdomen. Even when he wasn’t hard he was massive. It blew her fucking mind that a man could be that attractive, that he actually just did that with her, that he was then wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close to his sweating body. He opened his eyes breathlessly just as she leaned in and gave his lips a gentle kiss. Light like a feather, but sweet like honey. 

“So,” she traced a shape on the tanned skin of his chest, “does this make me a bad person?” 

He wanted to laugh, he really did. But when he looked back at her, she looked seriously concerned that she might have ruined something for herself. And for that, he brought his lips to hers once again for an even longer skin. He rolled his tongue out to slide against her own, and not being a bitch boy, he could taste himself on her mouth - the thought making him smile. They really just did that. 

“No, my love,” he whispered, “it makes you a very, very good one.” 

My love...my love...fuck. 

She laughed at his lame compliment. In retaliation, and just because he wanted to, he gave her a light spank that made her gasp in sharply. By the time she had time to open her mouth and speak, he had already rolled them over and attached their lips. They giggled against one another’s mouths, Y/n holding his hair, Grayson rubbing his thumbs across her hips. 

“I don’t want this to be over,” he admitted quietly to her, forehead resting against hers lazily. He knew this was a dreamland and he would have to wake up to a frat house full of passed out drunks and a fuck ton of trash to clean up. But she was...damn near impossible to stop kissing and now that he’s gotten a taste of what it’s like to have her in his arms - he doesn’t want to let her go.

It made her heart flutter to hear him say something so honest and raw in a time like this, him being naked and pressed on tip

“It doesn’t have to be...” she trailed off, not knowing if he meant he didn’t want the night to end or something deeper. 

“Yeah? You sure you want to hang out with a fray boy? I’ve heard they're jerks,” he teased, tickling at her side and grinning when she wiggled in his arms. 

She nodded against his chest, not having enough courage to respond, but wanting to give a response anyway. She had to admit, she was overjoyed when Grayson slid out from under her and wrapped her up nice and snug in his bed, sliding right in next to her and pulling her close. 

She didn’t know what it meant for them, what this meant for her, or where the fuck they stood. All she knew was that Grayson’s lips sprinkled kisses across her face just to help her fall asleep that night...and no one in her life as ever made her feel so worthy. Loved. Touched. Not just psychically, but emotionally, spiritually, and beyond. And for once the thought of being close to someone didn’t scare her.  

tags: @episkygrant​ @highoffdolan​ @mercurygrant​ @indiyaesthetic​ @livelongdolan​ @dolandolll​ @aquadolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @blindedbythelightt​ @persistence-ofmemories​ @deeperdolan​ @zeusgrayson​ @nikesbailey​ @dolansaint​ @goldenndolan​ @kate-the-holland​ @money-is-the-reason-we-exist​ @hereticryan​ @dolansontheblock​

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan smut #temptation!gray #Ethan and Grayson #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan fanfiction #dolan twins #dolan twins smut #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan angst #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan fluff #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fanfiction #dolan twins fanfic #fanfic #blurbs #youtube #youtubers #gray!concepts #grayson!concepts

[fenmere]

*rolls eyes*

It's not like when someone is diagnosed with DID they suddenly lose all of their senses of self and personal myths of origin & explanation, and instead adopt all the clinical framework and vocabulary for talking about Being DID in An Acceptable Way.

Nor should they.

---

So, the Nerdist presented an article positing that Moon Knight could be a nexus for multiple universes or realities. And a lot of systems are reacting to that with "He has DID." Which is true. The further objection is "DID is caused by trauma, not something supernatural."

So...

We're not setting out to defend the Nerdist here. DID & plurality in general have such a nasty stigma & a long history of villainizing representation in the media that the media needs to be extra careful when talking about it. But this particular idea & reaction bear discussion.

Here are the things we know about DID and plurality as they are treated by the clinical descriptions:

DID isn't inherently a state of plurality, nor is a history of trauma required to diagnose it.

DID is a set of disabilities related to dissociation that impair someone.

However, DID is strongly associated with both plurality and trauma.

Plurality comes in a wide variety of flavors and explanations, and isn't actually recognized by most clinicians as being real. Good scientists, however, just classify it as something they can't disprove.

Plurality is recognized enough by the people who write the diagnostic criteria for DID that they list cultural or religious explanations for a patient's plurality as something that disqualifies them for a diagnosis of DID. In other words:

You may have all the symptoms of DID and be diagnosible as having DID, because your symptoms may distress or impair you significantly, but because you agree with your own cultural or religious teachings that your symptoms are caused by something supernatural, no diagnosis.

There's still a LOT of gray area there. It's a clause in the diagnostic criteria that is meant to prevent a racism from occurring, though it might also cause racism, honestly. It's an ethical dilemma with a kludgy tool being used by a given clinician in a deeply racist system.

Mistakes are GOING to be made.

But also, just because a clinician refuses to give you a diagnosis, it doesn't mean you don't have all the same experiences as someone who has that diagnosis.

Reread that as many times as possible.

Now...

Another thing you need to reread & connect to all of the above is that:

The diagnosis doesn't define the experience or the disabilities that come with it.

Just because someone is diagnosed with DID, it doesn't mean everything they experience is now defined by that DIAGNOSIS.

The diagnosis, the definition of the disability or disorder, should be informed by our experiences, but in PRACTICE it is not. It's actually informed by the prejudices and misunderstandings made by neurotypical singlet scientists who think they can categorize us.

Knowing that, are you REALLY going to let the medical system define for all of us what plurality and what DID really are?

Really?!

Now, even if you DO, here's how it can work out for Moon Knight:

Let's say Moon Knight IS the product of supernatural forces (he clearly is, actually, he's a fucking superhero with superpowers that are shaped by his plurality) and IS a nexus for multiple realities.

Since his plurality and the experiences that stem from it do not come from his own ethnic background or religion as recognized by the state, when Steven goes in to a psychologist to figure out what's going on, that psychologist is going to diagnose him with DID.

That means he officially has DID! There, that's it. He has DID and it's caused by supernatural forces, and everything works out fine. Well, in his case, though, it's his PLURALITY that's caused by supernatural forces. His DID is caused by conflicts within that system. And those conflicts happen to arise from the traumatic demands and experiences of being a superhero. So, in his case, his DID is still caused by trauma. So sysmeds shouldn't have any problem with the supernatural aspect of it, nor of the idea of him being a nexus of realities.

It's all compatible. Within the system that sysmeds hold so dear.

Without that medical system, there's even less conflict with it. But not only that.

There are already so many plural systems, people with DID and without it, who feel like they ARE the nexus of realities. Maybe it's psychosis, maybe it's not, but many of us experience these things consistently and talk about it regularly with each other.

And there's no way, currently, to scientifically disprove that these explanations are right or wrong.

And some of the explanations are rooted in cultural backgrounds and established religions, and so are nominally protected by the wording of the very diagnosis that is being used here.

Conclusion:

The Nerdist's idea of what Moon Knight could be IS community representation.

Fuck, the person writing that article could even be a system themself. (Before you argue with this, remember that if you are a system, chances are good you were once a system that didn't know you were a system, and weren't there signs? Didn't you write stuff back then.)

#plurality #DID #Moon Knight #positive plurality #syscourse

[bigskydreaming]

If Dick and Bruce are always both at fault for their conflicts then why does it always go “Dick does something/wants to do something and Bruce doesn’t like it or tells him he’s wrong.” With the other times being “Bruce does something that affects Dick’s life without considering it’s effect on Dick and Dick’s not really upset at what Bruce did he’s literally just upset about the lack of consideration for how Dick would be affected.”

Like how does that work. Dick’s stubbornness is so often cited as being what causes conflicts between them but like....he’s only stubborn when it comes to Bruce attempting to make choices for him or suddenly changing his mind about not being okay with stuff he’s previously enabled Dick in and expecting Dick to just be fine with that. With his temper cited as being what puts him equally at fault with Bruce the other times but again when he’s literally just upset at Bruce’s lack of visible consideration for how Dick is affected by various Big Decisions that Bruce makes....how does that track?

The frustration I and many others have about the vaguely referenced but rarely delved into implications or outright statements that Dick and Bruce fight so often because they’re both equally stubborn and hot headed and refusing to apologize....is that Bruce is the catalyst for almost all these conflicts. It’s his choices that prompt them. He decides things and Dick is affected in various ways by those decisions and Dick is almost always just saying hey I’m here, I matter, but it doesn’t feel that way when you keep acting like it’s hard to remember I exist and my feelings are any kind of priority to you.

That’s not equal. That’s not an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. That’s a big fish making big moves and the smaller fish he took in and who is emotionally attached to him for life frantically trying to remind him he’s along for the ride and getting dragged around by the slipstream the bigger one makes without any seeming awareness of his greater ability to affect the smaller one’s life, the very course and direction of it.

And that’s not because Dick’s lesser than Bruce but it is because what gets obscured by the sometimes vague ways their dynamic is hand waved as being something other than father and son but not actually defined....no matter how you slice it, Dick was his dependent. Literally. Bruce took responsibility for Dick as a child and Dick was dependent on him until he was old enough to be independent.

And that matters, even into Dick’s adulthood because their dynamic, no matter what it grew into, began from these roots and you can’t just uproot who they are twenty years later from the ground it was planted in and act like that has no bearing anymore. It doesn’t work that way.

Like, the thing about Bruce forgetting to prioritize Dick and how he’ll be affected by things I think has a lot to do with Bruce second guessing himself and wondering if he’s had a net positive effect on Dick’s life. And he can think back to when he made that choice to take Dick in and kinda picture or wonder might have happened if he hadn’t made that choice.

And by extension, he can see a life without Dick in it, even if he’s justifying it to himself as being better for Dick that way...but the point is he can see it because he did live it, even if briefly. He might have been young when he took in Dick but he was still an adult, still grown, still established in who he was and what he intended to do with his life.

But the problem lies in the fact that while Bruce might try to convince himself that Dick would have been better off without him, and by extension he thinks about a life without him....he’s picturing himself before taking him in. Still adult, still Brucie, still Batman. Still similar ENOUGH that he can put himself in this train of thought that like....if he’d just made a different choice then, Dick would be better off, and then from there he can kinda...make decisions from the POV of the self he was when Dick wasn’t in his life, he can see what that looks like, what he looks like, and he makes decisions that focus just on him and his own actions and he’s still thinking how Dick is better off that way. When he makes decisions without acknowledging how they’ll affect Dick, he’s not doing it to be thoughtless, he’s convinced himself to separate himself from Dick in his mind....and defaulting to the template of himself he has from when Dick really WASNT in his life yet.

And the thing is....Dick can’t do that. So when Bruce makes choices and actions that look and seem like he’s not acknowledging that Dick’s life is intrinsically connected to Bruce’s and everything Bruce does has SOME impact on him because he’s been the guiding force in Dick’s life since he was eight....when Bruce acts like he’s making choices as if in a world where he never took Dick in even if he thinks he’s better off that way....

There’s nothing for Dick to picture, to imagine that world in the way Bruce is. To imagine himself. Because take away Bruce’s impact on Dick’s life, and from Bruce’s POV you just see the infinite potential of what Dick could have been, but that’s because like....that’s Dick at age eight. He’s barely started becoming who he’ll be as an adult. Eight year olds by their very natures are more varied and full of potential than adults because there’s so much less set in stone by then, they have yet to establish themselves as THEM.

But take away Bruce’s impact on Dick’s life for whatever reason, and from Dick’s POV it looks vastly different. Because the only thing he can picture concretely then...is himself at age eight. When he was at his most lost and confused. When he WASNT able to be by himself yet because who he was just wasn’t even all there yet. It was still actively in formation. In a state of new growth, early stages of creation. When he still very much needed an adult presence with more experience, confidence and knowledge to help shape and guide him through the turbulent process of growing to adulthood and finding himself along the way.

Bruce imagines removing himself from the equation of Dick’s life and seeing the still unrealized potential of that eight year old and everything he might be. Dick is forced to imagine himself after Bruce’s removal from the equation of his life, simply because Bruce so often ACTS like he’s doing just that....and Dick suddenly has NO IDEA what he looks like.

Because he’s not fixated on the before image of himself that Bruce has when he thinks of Dick before Bruce took him in. He’s fixated on his life in the here and now...and when he’s catapulted into imaginings of life without Bruce because Bruce is acting like he exists entirely separate from Bruce and his decisions....he’s back to who he was before Bruce, that scared and confused little kid....and with no way to even begin to picture who he would have grown up to be in a life without Bruce.

Same imagined scenario. But two entirely different perspectives with wildly different appeal. As in one holds no appeal at all...because Dick has never really actually expressed that he wishes Bruce hadn’t taken him in. That HE thinks he would have been better off that way. It’s like asking him to picture himself as a total stranger with no way to begin imagining what he became instead of who he is now....and Dick LIKES who he is now. He has his issues but he LIKES being Nightwing, helping people, all the family and friends he would never have met in a world without Bruce.

It’s just....for all that Bruce says that Dick as an adult has become his equal, this is still a father and son and you can’t keep coming up in both canon and fanfics with events and stories where it’s like the father is operating from a place of ‘my son would be better off without me’ and act like the conflict that ensues is one of equal dynamic....because the conflict, the at odds perspectives, are directly born from the father and son dynamic.

It’s the father questioning his place in his son’s life, after being the one who volunteered for that position and thus earned the eternal gratitude of the son who had desperately needed that adult to depend on at the time he’d stepped into fill it...and the son now wondering well who the fuck even am I without that then, where does that leave me?

Bruce is picturing ANYONE being better for Dick at the times when he second guesses his impact on Dick’s life. But Dick is just picturing an empty cut out with no one to imagine in that place, just an awareness that the kid he’d been back then had really truly needed someone there and there’s no one to put in that place instead. (And it really doesn’t come up enough in examinations of Dick’s character, esp in stories using the juvie origin specifically that like....Dick was painfully aware that no one other than Bruce was exactly lining up to do right by him or give him one of those better lives Bruce is optimistically picturing for him when he’s second guessing his own suitability as Dick’s parent. Dick would be like did you forget where you found me??! Who the fuck do you think was going to give me a better life when nobody but you was even seeing a problem with me being in kiddie jail for the crime of Orphaned While Looked Down On By Society?)

But it’s just like....Bruce and Dick’s arguments, especially ones geared around ambiguity as to the status and nature of their relationship....are not conflicts between equals. They’re a son saying he feels like he doesn’t trust the dynamic between them is solid and the father being like well I’d like to reassure you it’s just I’m spiraling because I don’t think I even should be your father.

And that’s just. SO not something Dick can, let alone SHOULD have to address. HE’S the one who’s lost and adrift and basically a homeless orphan the second you take Bruce’s stability out of his life. It isn’t on that guy to reassure the one who volunteered to BE the source of stability in the life of the kid desperately in need of that.

Bruce is of course more than allowed and understandable in having doubts as a parent. But like. You go to Alfred for that. Clark. Selina. Literally any other adult. But not the kid who you force to wonder how to trust in the strength of the bond you’re actively questioning should even exist....when YOU’RE the source of that bond and what he relies on to see himself as even HAVING a parent at all.

Like. It just isn’t the “both equally at fault” thing people keep calling it. It’s a son flailing because he doubts his place in his father’s life at multiple points because his father basically at multiple points flat out says hey you should probably have doubts about that because LOL guess what I’m having right now!

Y’know?

Oh and also, PS - its reeeeeeally not great IMO, how many fics resolve these conflicts by HAVING Dick reassure Bruce that he loves him and is grateful to him for taking him in and he doesn’t know who he’d be without him, because uh....

You basically just ended whatever fight they were having by deciding that Dick couldn’t afford to even BE mad at Bruce any longer for whatever he did or said, because he has to prioritize making Bruce feel better about his own decisions instead of Bruce having to prioritize making him feel better about his place in the Batfam and ensuring Dick knows that he deserves better than just the bare minimum, parenting wise. That if Bruce legitimately fucked up, its okay to call him on it and hold him accountable for recognizing what he’d done and growing to see how he can do better.

Like....that’s not a resolution to their conflict! That’s just Dick being forced to pat his dad on the back for what a good job he did because Bruce’s insecurities are more important to address than whatever it was that Bruce did to upset Dick in the first place, even if it was literally something he’d fucked up as a parent, and that needed addressing or it’d happen again. (Like....it usually ends up happening again).

You literally make it impossible for Bruce to ever TRULY be held accountable for things he does to ANY of his kids....when you continually treat the ultimate resolution to these conflicts being the KIDS reassuring BRUCE.

My eternal mantra, repeated ad nauseam, in all caps for hyperbolic emphasis not because I’m actually yelling at anyone, I’m actually sitting down at my desk, quite calm at the moment just FYI, just saying:

BRUCE IS THE FATHER. BRUCE VOLUNTEERED TO BE THE FATHER. MAKE BRUCE ACT LIKE THE FATHER AND DO THE THINGS THE FATHER IS SUPPOSED TO DO. NOT HIS KIDS.