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#who the f are queue

frecklystars · 7 months

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i know nobody is online rn to read this but ;-; i gotta get it off my chest i love ken so much he means everything to me he's making me so happy and i've needed him so so so bad. he's brought me comfort when my ptsd has been so fucking unbearable and every time i'm having a crying fit over losing my tf f/os or every time i'm having a flashback i ALWAYS immediately IMMEDIATELY think about him rushing to my side, holding me and saying "hey hey it's okay, i'm here, i'm right here" and it's such a relief because i haven't been able to genuinely wholeheartedly believe any character would be willing to do that for me the entire time i've been struggling this year.

i've never gone so long without comfort from f/os, much less being triggered by the ones who used to comfort me the most. so to have barbie and ken right now is like the biggest wave of relief every single day when i wake up and the hyperfixation is still there. sometimes i will literally close my eyes and sigh in relief when i hear a song and my first thought is sebastian or ken or six or... whomever. i love being in love again. i NEED this. i love waking up and my first thought isn't my trauma most of the time now, it's ken. or it's six. or it's barbie. or it's harley. or it's officer k. or it's... yeah you get it. i needed these characters so fucking badly. every time i see a gifset and get excited over it, i feel a rush of gratitude bc self shipping has always been the glue holding me together. it doesn't feel as intense or strong as the SB musical or TF used to make me feel but i am not picky. not at all. i will take anything and i'm praying this lasts for at LEAST another few weeks please

i may not be at a sense of peace right now and i dont know when i ever will be, it could be years, but im so. so. so. so so so thankful to have these characters right now when i've needed someone so badly for so long. i hope ken knows how much i love him ;-; i hope barbie knows how much she has helped me, has saved me from one of my major triggers and has helped me to love and feel safe around the color pink again. i wish they could see me when i'm not so broken but i'm glad they're here even when i'm at my worst, i'm glad they still love me even when they deserve to see me in a much better light

#it feels so fucking terrible not celebrating my bday with my starlight. i used to buy myself cakes and put his figurine next to them #i mean i still have... a little bit over one week... i cant... let it pass by without him being involved somehow #so i might make a quick vent doodle and queue it for the actual day of my bday #i refuse to not draw myself with him at least once for my special day #its not like we 'broke up' or anything but fuck it feels so bad #he's a literal fucking ptsd trigger. how fucking insane is that #im still in shock. im still in shock over what happened to me like i cant fucking believe it #wearing his necklace makes me cry so i just leave it on my dresser #that shouldnt be normal!!!!#but im hoping that shipping with barbie/ken is going to help me feel like i can reclaim control over my ships #bc my abuser made me feel like... i had no control over my TF ships whatsoever for a solid year #so now that i'm finally free of that toxicity i'm still shakily trying to learn how to ship again #i'll have moments where i'll worry ken will try to hurt me on purpose bc im so used to my abuser telling me how abusive any f/o would be #but then i tell myself 'hey what the fuck. this is MY story. NOBODY would abuse me i dont care WHO they are'#but it's so hard to unlearn several months of abuse 😔#and even harder to look at a character who i invested so much time and energy and money into #my voice clips. my cameos. all of my steve blum autographs. my art for steve. all of it feels sad and numbing #not just stsc but everyone in any TF universe feels like... a threat and i get panic attacks when i see very specific characters sometimes #its awful. it hurts so bad. i love ken so much. but nothing compares to what i had with my TF comfort characters #but it's okay bc... ken is holding my hand and he might not understand ptsd at all but he can still squeeze me tight #and six HAS c-ptsd he GETS it. and he's there to hold me when my nightmares make me fall apart. he's my rock #vent #ptsd #sorry it's 5am i had a bad nightmare and now i refuse to sleep again #i fucking hate ptsd i fucking hate living like this i rly wish i knew how to cure myself #im exercising im eating and drinking often im sleeping as much as i can #theres only so much i can do #when does it get better?? when the fuck does it get better? im serious. not rhetorical. when does this finally heal #i dont even know if im healing or if im just distracted... but fuck ill take anything

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theloveinc · 1 year

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YALL PLEASE IK WE LOVE DILF DEKU BUT WHAT IF YOU TWO ARE DILFS AND MILFS. Like YALL met in the 90s when he was JUST hitting his peak of being #1 and ALL THE HOT 90s/2k PHOTOS OF HIM AND HIS GF TOGETHER (Who is now his wife) LIKE JUST TWO PEOPLE YOUNG AND IN LOVE. Him holding her hand and laughing as they are trying to quickly get away from the paparazzi and he has his arm out and trying to wiggle through fans and having the other around her waist. He’s always wearing every day clothes in all of them cause he was young probably early 20s and didn’t really see the reason of dressing up! OH and if his wife is a poc she has those hot make up looks black girls did back then! OH I loVE IT! There’s definitely pics of the two of them like him sitting on the floor while watching a early 2000s music video from America while she is sitting behind him on the couch practicing corn rolls on his BIG HEAD OHHH YALL. AND IF THEY HAVE LITTLE MIX KIDS OMFG LET ME STOP

normally i'd stick two asks together but i'm gonna answer you in separate parts bc i wanna respond to all of your thoughts, if that's alright!

but this reminds me a little of my childhood lover post (here!)... and how deku is always so sweet to you in public, so confident with your love that he's not afraid of showing it off .... and esp how well you've both aged, still both beautiful as the day you met.

i'm sure this is what you were going for with your imagery (which def brings this imagery to life) , but this also makes me think of the tik tok trends of people sharing pics of their parents from the 90s, or getting their photos done at vintage studios. the funny but sweet poses of people standing together in y2k clothes in front of colorful backgrounds. OR even prom pictures, with the silly background drapes hehehe.

also imagining having some 90s love song being your + deku's SONG. like the song you always dance together to in the kitchen, that your kids make faces at🥺

and they're definitely cute, just like u say! either dressed up in all the cute little tracksuits you can find or in daddy's nice hero merch and similar big, chunky sneakers. or maybe u even buy them jelly sandals to match the color beads and clips in their hair... so nostalgic :(

this is such a deku vibe!!

#deku #remember i am WHITE #I AM A WHITE LADY #AND I DON'T WANNA F*TISHIZE :((#but otherwise yes adorable !! esp being age appropriate m*lfs and d*lfs in love #who grew up together too and who the public love #getting your photoshoots on and everything #LMFAO just thought abt justin timberlake fan deku sajdhfkjashdfljk #on his suit and tie sh*t #LOL i laugh #my roommate saw a mouse in the middle of me writing this too (at 3 am)#and i took a break to be worried with her #so im sorry if this isnt well structured #lmk if i could've answered better too in terms of inclusivity for poc!#caitie things #gen #anon #queue

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asleepinawell · 9 months

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having an event planning feature like fb would probably be a Terrible tumblr feature but I sometimes still wish there was an easy way to be like get in losers we're going to raid orbonne tonight and then actually update people who are like wow I would be down without having to tag every single one of them

#the tonberry dun scaith run was great but I had to tag like a million people F #anyway I think we should do orbonne with the echo off #I think that would be a Soothing after work activity #ffxivmp #mp #also adding that people who get interested through a silly tumblr post are less likely to be shitheads than in pf #'why not just queue for orbonne lol' trust me I do and then I lose an hour of my life waiting and still don't get in

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meatriarch · 3 months

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im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );

can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.

but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.

you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,

that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.

that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.

and in that moment everything seems solidified.

you're never getting away.

there's no point in it.

there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.

you're dead.

not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.

what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?

who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?

the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.

#[ ♡ ] ── * maria f. / 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦.#[ 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦. ] ── * queue.#[ 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦. ] ── * cold case.#[ 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦. ] ── * no one saved you.#for cc maria its just. theres literally no one else. the only constant has been johnny. hes the one who was there with her when the #broadcasts sounded off her searches being called off. the only one who ensured she ate - was clothed - was looked after when she fell ill.#who she could talk to. who in spite of all her escape attempts & all her attempts at trying to kill him kept her around - taught her how to #do things properly - protected her from others that'd be brought down below shack. honestly. her isolation in cc - only having any sort of #connection being with johnny for *months* before he trusted her enough to let her join him for longer periods - like its. complicated.#SO fucking complicated. youre seen as dead to literally everyone else in existence - *except for him*. he who sees you. who hears you.#who talks to you. looks after you. its hard not to find yourself becoming attached/devoted. to the only person who knows you still exist #like i mentioned for nosy its. theres lee there too now so its. a little different. it doesnt hit right away - the almost blind devotion.#but it still happens - over time - with the both of them. the last two people who for a time at least know you were even still living.#and its by the time ch2 rolls in for either cc/nosy its just. its so confusing to her. why they all bother returning then?#for cc its just. you all buried me in an empty box twenty years ago...you all moved on then. you accepted that. so why are you here now.#why are you re-opening wounds that shouldve been long buried - with that empty casket. why suddenly care now?#in nosy she suppresses it w. her bitterness but cc i feel it comes out more like... grief & hurt. all over again. because if you came back #20 yrs after the fact? then why DIDNT you return back then? why *now* and not then? at any point in the last two decades?

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vanbredevoort · 8 months

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for @viilgefortz ha ha HAsuffer.

"All of this area"

"All of it? You mean all of it?"

"Yes", the woman did not like repeating herself, "It's been going on for years and it's only getting stronger."

Lydia did the math quickly inside her mind. It was a perfect circle drawn in the map in front of her. They had to be wrong in their calculations. No curse was that big and expanding if not subjected to constant feeding-- wars, a graveyard, a tragedy (it had to be a HUGE tragedy). In fact, no curse expanded that much. Ever.

"Have you found out what is fueling it? Remains, crystals, jewerly...?", she asked.

"We have not been able to get that close to the center", the woman pointed at the middle of the circle, "Everything just... perishes inside."

"Everything?", Lydia asked, incredulous again, "And no one has any theories?"

"Not like the ones you sent on your letter. Look, few people understood curses like Lady van Bredevoort did. But your analysis--- it reminded us of her unique approach to curses. In her last book--"

"The Natural Obscurity of Curses. Yes, I've read it"

I wrote it.

"She speaks of preventing curses, how to act when they're there, but this one--- It's already beyond preventing and beyond acting. It's massive, it's expanding, and it's completely out of our hands. And you seem to understand them. Like Lydia did."

She had to muffle a giggle. After all, he was there, laying against a wall, and she could feel his smirk even without seeing it.

"I cannot promise anything, as I told you in my letter. But I can check it."

The woman smiled, and her brown eyes scanned Vilgefortz in a way that had Lydia raising an eyebrow.

"Is he coming with us?"

She did not like her tone. She did not like her smirk.

"Yes, my HUSBAND is coming with me."

Without another word, still carrying a stern look, Lydia guided the woman outside. The manor was protected against magic, so a portal would be unstable and dangerous unless placed outside. Once they were at a safe distance, the woman concentrated and created a portal. Vilgefortz stepped in first and when the woman tried to follow, Lydia placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't even---"

"I understood that the first time. Husband. I get it", she said. She did not like repeating herself.

"Oh, he's more than that. And he's mine"

"I already told you I get it, no ne---"

"You actually don't."

With a fake smile, Lydia stepped into the portal.

She did not recognize the place, but it was an abandoned tavern somewhere in Redania, if she trusted the woman’s map. Lydia waltzed up to Vilgefortz and entwined their fingers. Immediately she felt shivers and bolts of static running down her spine. The lady had clearly followed them but Lydia did not notice. Ten years of a new life, eight years of a life of happiness where his touch always reduced the world to HIM. Just him. His touch. His essence.

"As I told you before, it's expanding, so this is as far as I'm willing to take you with a portal", she said, and Lydia - begrudgingly - had to take her eyes off Vilgefortz. It made her shiver in disgust. "It's an hour walk away from here. Good luck, I guess— and thank you.”

Yet it took them more than an hour to walk there. After all, Lydia had a fit of jealousy to get out of her system. The rain that constantly fell on top of them did not stop her, or her promises of not being exactly done with the fit, with the cries of him being hers that at some point, became screams of her being his'.

They found shelter under a tree as they reached the limits of the expanding curse, her back pressed to Vilgefortz's front, an arm laced around his neck. His embrace was a double edged sword, for it brought clarity to her thoughts and fogginess depending on his actions. After recieving various threats to stop her squirming, she allowed her mind to focus entirely on the academics. Her whole posture changed when she entered that state of concentration.

"Air seems clear. The temperature feels colder", Lydia whispered, following the standard procedure, "The ground seems cracked and lacks nutrients. Dead animals, bones already, even when we're just at the curse's edge... It either affects the passage of time or kills too quickly. Wraiths?"

"None that I can sense"

"Then none", she said, without questioning or second thoughts, "Necrofages?"

"None as well. You knew that already."

"I figured as much but I needed the confirmation", she smiled. Lydia liked it when he read her flawlessly, and when he trusted her knowledge, and he had done both in one sentence, "I also like hearing your voice. What do you sense?"

"... Something I don't like."

That was worrying. No explanation, no arguments. And he was always right.

"... Do you think---?"

He nodded.

"It's...? It is! It's a first degree curse! I've read about them, of course, but I've never seen one! This is--- you're frowining, Vilgefortz"

"I don't like it."

"Vil, I will not put myself in harm's way. I promised that eight years ago and I am a woman of my word. But this could be a second or most likely a first degree curse--- and I have you"

Tugging at his clothes she pulled him closer, locking him into a kiss that tasted of pure devotion, one that surpasses the limits of what she can do with her body but has no other manner to convey. Soon her arms were around his neck, her hands pulled at his hair and if not for his own hands pushing her away softly, she would have spiralled deeper into the fire that did not diminish with the years but only grew. So, so much.

"Expanding curse, Lydia. Expanding."

She was tempted to pout, to somehow trick him into a kiss again, but something pulled her out of her fantasies.

"... I can hear something"

"I've been hearing it since we got there"

"... Screaming?"

He frowned again. He had not been able to pinpoint the nature of the sound, that just rang inside his ears painfully. But it was, as she said, a scream. A piercing scream that spoke of a pain no living creature could mimic, yet somehow familiar. The fact that Lydia, human Lydia, deprived from magic and means to analyze, had so easily named it—- it only added to his uneasiness.

"I don't like this, Lydia. I don't like this near you"

"Please?"

"You don't touch it. The moment I see it's getting closer---"

"We leave", she said, turning around again. "Will you hold me, Sir?"

He wrapped his arms around her again, from behind. His muscles were tense. She had no time to revell on his overprotectiveness, because something called-- over and over... her hands stretched and, against everything, touched the edge.

There was a spiral. There was darkness. There was cold.

She was suddenly alone in a throne room. There was a seat in the middle of it, empty, and a shadow laying just under it, and it seemed broken. Something like tendrils extended from the shadow, wrapping around the pilars and broken stones. She hated it, for some reason. Lydia’s eyes scanned the room diligently. The place had remarkable detail and only a powerful curse could summon her mind into an entire different reality.

It was beyond the first degree. It was something that books haven’t spoke about yet. It was fascinating--- And she had to get out. Quickly. She had to go back to Vilgefortz, focus on his warmth, on his arms wrapped around her, on his beating heart, but surrounding her there was only cold.

‘He's dead, darling’

The shadow spoke, but she wasn’t in the throne room anymore. A city. A study. A castle. And the voice, the cold voice of Philippa Eilhart. Then a laboratory, then elven ruins. Finally, a hallway. Thanedd.

“No…”

A pool of blood lay at her feet.

‘Yes. You.’ someone replied, a familiar voice, 'You. You looked at him while you STABBED your heart. You. You wanted him to be the last thing you saw. You. You died with his name stuck in your throat. You, you, you.'

With another pull she was standing in a place she immediately, far too quickly recognized as Strygga.

She was suddenly kneeling on the floor. Her eyes were open with inhuman strength, held by powerful forces, forcing her to look at a fight without the benefit of blinking. She did not want to, but she couldn't stop it. A sihil shined, reflecting the light from the moon. The metal slashed Vilgefortz's abdomen.

There was a ringing sound, so piercing she wanted to pass out only to stop hearing it. She wanted to gouge her own eyes off their sockets. She wanted to rip off her own skin. She wanted the sound to stop.

She knew what was next. The blade made a diagonigal cut, from his torso to his collarbone. He looked up. At her. The floor was painted red with his blood.

Why wouldn’t the ringing sound stop? She was dizzy and she was praying for death.

Lydia thought she would feel it too. That when the sihil slashed, she would feel the pain as if it was her own. It took her a few heartbeats to realise that would have been an escape. A way to suffer with him, and not just bearing witness to his demise, forced to drink it all in without the comfort of sharing the agony. In terms of torture, it was perfection. Meticulous. Measured to preciseness.

Suddenly, between her bent knees lay a head. His head. Trembling hands held it. Lifeless. White mismatched eyes, rolled to the back. Bloodied. Painful. Disfigured. Dead. Dead. Dead.

The sound did not stop. It took her an hour like that to realise that it was screaming— and that it was her own. An hour spent cradling a decapitated head against her own chest, back arched as if protecting it, or scared it would be taken away. An hour screaming. Uninterrupted, unparalleled screaming.

She did not move. She did not squirm away from the agony. She drank it all. She screamed.

An hour to hold what was once beautiful— her love for him. An hour to stain her white dress with blood, to look at his lifeless expression, allowing the stench of death to sink into her skin, her bones, her will to live.

Her love. Her master. Her patron. Her sun. Her king.

HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. I LOVE HIM, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND HE'S DEAD. THEY TOOK HIM FROM ME. THEY KILLED HIM.

Dead, dead, dead in her arms. A head. An hour.

DEAD. HE IS DEAD. MY LOVE IS DEAD.

Suddenly she was back in the throne room. There was no blood of his own, no head on her lap. Yet red still stained the floor— because her arms bled, and she wondered why. Looking down, she saw she had been digging her own nails into her skin. She could see the muscle. The tendons. If the sight scared her, she did not show it.

Because she wasn't screaming anymore. Because there was nothing inside of her anymore.

‘You killed him. You were his undoing. It is your fault. You orchestated his demise. You.’

She materialized in front of her.

It was herself. The shadow sitting under the throne, whatever it was, looked like her. While she wore white, the shadow wore black. While her hair was braided, her shadow wore it lose, and it extended over the whole throne room, wrapped around the pillars, escaped through the windows. The hair dragged itself across the stairs as she walked. She was pale, she was beautiful, she was the night. An eternal night. She was the moon, like ancient legends, looking for the bits and pieces of her love. She was gorgeous. And she was nothing.

She thought she replied that she didn't. She was sure the words she said were about her love, her sacrifice, her need to be useful. That she didn’t mean for it to end that way.

But "Yes. Yes. I killed him. I did kill him” were the words that she actually muttered.

'Does not knowing serve as justification?'

She thought she said it did. She had no way of knowing-- Everyone thought her a person of no importance. Her death had to be nothing of true meaning. She had a job to do, and she was to do it to perfection. He deserved nothing less than absolute perfection.

"It doesn't, no. I should have known I was important to him. Not knowing does not justify my actions."

'You killed him'

"Yes. I killed him"

'You killed him.'

"I killed him."

'Say it again.' his voice!

"I killed you."

'Again, DOLL. Again.'

"I killed you."

She did not realise when the throne room became a laboratory. Her body lay on a stone slab, naked, unblemished until a dagger pierced it.

"He's dead, my darling. Dead. You threw away your life for nothing", Philippa said.

How could a human cry like that? How could a body as small and fragile as hers scream like that? How could a heart so wounded, stabbed TWICE, condemned to what she thought unrequited feelings love that much?

"Yes. I killed him."

A baby cries. Birds fly out of their nests, terrified. An elf squints at the moon, restless. A old woman slicing an apple sheds a tear. A scholar drops an antique book as a spasm of agony took over him. A blacksmith in Skellige screams to the top of her lungs. They all wonder why.

Silence. Darkness.

‘You should be dead.’

“I should be dead.”

'You do not deserve anything'

"I don't deserve anything"

'He's the sun'

"I'm just the moon"

'The moon shines,'

"Because it reflects the sun"

'Without the sun...'

"Nothing can live. Nothing should live."

Her hands were stained with his blood again. She knew it was his’, she didn’t need the confirmation. She stared at them for a while. Her eyes were usually expressive--- weren't they? Then why, why did they show nothing?

'If he's gone...'

"... Then everything should perish"

Vilgefortz felt the curse like tendrils extending towards Lydia, calling for her. His mind worked like clockwork, step by step. This was Redania. This was where Philippa's laboratory was. This is where Lydia had been brought back from the dead. This was the place she was told he died.

It took him less than a second to understand this was Lydia's curse.

This was her affection turned into agony. This was her devotion, turned into despair. Her love for him turned into hatred for herself. And he knew-- there was so much love.

He pulled her back immediately, at inhuman speed. He held her with one arm around her waist, while the other touched her face-- the face of a woman who looked lifeless. Who shed tears of blood that stained the pale skin, paler than usual. Eyes open but vacant. Lips parted but silent. Mind open, but empty. The rain did not stop. The feeling of life being drained didn’t either.

A pain so big. A curse so powerful. A hatred so hungry. A love so strong.

And he just fucking handed her to it.

"Lydia"

Not again.

The curse had merely grazed her. Not even a full second had passed.

"LYDIA!"

he should have known. he should have known, he should have known! he had heard that same scream, after all, a decade before!

#viilgefortz #·· behind the curtain / DRABBLE #( “this is war then” )#( yes sure. nbd. here. 2500+ drabble. )#( S U F F E R )#( u don't know who you're messing with ü )#( absurdly long post )#( tw: death )#·· without a sound / QUEUE

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ladyseidr · 7 months

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@trapton asked: ❝ [ GRIND ]: henry henry henry ❞ ( prompts: less cringy edition )

It had been like a landslide, like the slippery slope excuse that had rattled around in his brain prior to the first time had come to fruition. ( If he ever let himself have Will, he'd never be able to let him go. ) One time turned into ten and now it was like they could hardly keep their hands off of one another. Thrill making heart skip a beat on the drive to work, always thinking about the next time they could be so close. Sexual, yes, but more than that—not that he could admit that to himself just yet. His hands grasped everywhere—waist, ribs, hips, ass, neck, hair. Like he was trying to memorize Will's form under his hands, like he couldn't get enough. Moaning into Will's mouth as he slotted his leg between Will's, corners of his mouth twitching upward when his business partner took to grinding against his thigh. There was something to it: knowing that, for all of Will's boasting, he wanted Henry just as badly. To be wanted like that was intoxicating in a way Henry had never experienced.

"Been holding this back all day, haven't you?" he questioned, hardly a whisper against Will's lips. He pressed closer, mouth falling to Will's throat to tease all-too-light kisses down the column, breathing in the familiar scent of one William Afton. "You're a needier man than I thought you'd be." And, for all his teasing, he was forcing hands down between them, undoing Will's trousers with a quick ease that was all too telling.

#☽—— ⸢ ask ⸥#f n a f /#˖ ☼ 𝒸𝒽. » ( henry emily )#sinday #☽—— ⸢ u s f w ⸥#trapton #((once against stating that i don't know how they ever get any work done))#((guys who make eye contact Once and it's immediately all over))#☽—— ⸢ queue ⸥

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