#literary-ly an ask

[maddy-ferguson]

unpopular opinion: i dont agree with the 'byler is intended to be a plot twist' take because the writers really are just following a basic love triangle and romance situation, it's meant to be surprising on the basis of the audience not realizing it but the ship itself won't come off as a 'plot twist' moment on the show imho it will be like similar to nancy's realizing she likes jonathan in s2.

well i DISAGREE the fact that it's gonna surprise most of the audience makes it a plot twist by definition? i think? i don't think it's gonna be more plot twisty in the execution than jancy happening though agree with you there

#a plot twist is a literary technique that introduces a radical change in the direction or expected outcome of the plot in a work of fiction #wikipedia says. definitely a change in the expected outcome? #i don't think nancy realized she liked jonathan in s2 though like she was definitely literally lying when she said they were friends she #just decided to stop denying it and to do something about it😭 #i don't think this is that unpopular though only on jackietaylcrs.tumblr.com #unpopular opinion saturday #ask

[anotherscrappile]

Oooh! ✦ for the ask game :D

I actually did this one already, but I’ll do it again to give you a taste of my cursive handwriting :)

#i got asked #oh look. it’s literary ly

[lovifie]

Darkfic!Gaz, nothing too extreme but this is not loverboy!Gaz, this is more of It-makes-me-want-to-laugh-at-you-when-you-cry!Gaz.

TW: emotional manipulation, a bit of dubcon, mentions of kidnaps

Everyone has a limit, and Gaz is not an exception.

He is still made of meat and bones, and emotions can be tamed but not ignored forever.

Working in the military takes a toll on everybody, both physically and emotionally. And survivor guilt is the worst of them all.

Gaz is back from his last mission, but many of his colleagues won't. Ever again.

Too many casualties.

Too many lives lost.

Too many injured.

And he is fine.

Not even a scratch he could pick at to feel the pain he deserves.

He shouldn't be walking home so freely, dozens of families are about to find out they will never be whole again.

And he is walking home to you, happy to welcome him back as if he was a hero, dinner warm on the table and you talking to him about your day.

As if he would care about how your colleague invited you to a company dinner in a couple of days. People died today, he couldn't care less.

But it seems you cannot get the memo.

“Can you shut the fuck up for a fucking second? Shit! I have been out for months, I just want some fucking quiet time and you keep fucking going on and on about you. How can you be so selfish?! Fuck! Just shut up, for fuck sake!” He says, standing up from the table and dropping his half-eaten dinner on the sink before walking upstairs to the bathroom to shower.

He regrets it the moment the words leave his lips, the hurt look on your face as if he had just hit you. 

It had happened before, the pressure of his work gets too much, he keeps it in, not being able to complain to anyone, until it overfills and in the end you are the one that takes the fall.

He hates himself for it, you are literary the best thing he has, his sweet girl, always willing to take him in, more ways than another, always willing to listen to him, always patient, always kind.

And this is how he repays you, with shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

He'll get out of the shower and you'll be lying on the sofa, not wanting to share the bed with him, he'll pull you apart and back together on said sofa, and once you are satisfied and pliant he'll take you to bed to sleep on his arms. 

Until it happens again. 

He gets out of the shower, towel around his hips, and goes down to the living room. But you aren't there, his brows furrow; maybe you are picking the blanket from the room. 

So he goes upstairs again, smiling when the room's light is on, and enters; smile quickly dropping when he sees you. 

No. No. No. No.

His stomach sinks when he sees the suitcase open on top of the bed, clothes being thrown inside by you.

He can see the tears in your eyes, but you don't look sad, you look angry. You have never been angry at him, he can't wait to feel it.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” He asks stepping closer, closing the suitcase so you can’t put any more clothes in. 

You huff, looking at him with hate and tears in your eyes as you try to move his hand away from the suitcase. “I'm leaving, Kyle” 

No, no, no, you can leave, he needs you, how can you leave him? What will he do without you?

“Why? Love, please, stop, talk to me, please?” He begs, making you throw the t-shirt on your hand to the floor.

“Talk to you?!” You shout at him. “Maybe I should talk to you the way you talk to me, Kyle! Then maybe you would get an idea of how much it hurts!”

He deserves it, he knows he does, but you have never spoken this loudly to him before, and it stirs something inside him. It makes him wonder if he can make you moan as loud, scream his name. 

“I know, love. I'm sorry, I really am. You know that, right? You know that I love you to bits?” He asks, manipulation at his best. But you don't fall for it, you are far too smart to be blinded by his hurt expression. He tries to cup your face, if he can touch you he knows he's got you; but so do you, and you quickly move his hands away from your face.

“If you loved me you wouldn't treat me the way you do, Kyle.” You argue, clever girl you are.

“How can I not love you, dear?” He asks, body moving closer to you. Your hand rests on the middle of his naked chest, keeping him back. It's the back of your hand that touches him, almost as if your palm was too good to touch him. 

Your touch is cold, both literally and figuratively and that makes him start to panic. What if you actually leave? What if he can't fix this before is too late? What if it is too late? 

He needs you, he needs the control he has over you. Everything in his life constantly feels out of control, his superiors barking orders at him, enemies playing with him, and comrades dying on the battlefield without him being able to do anything about it. He needs to feel he is in control of something, even if that something is a someone and even if that someone is you.

He still pushes closer, the heat from his body pooling into the coldness of your touch. He resists the urge to smile satisfied with how your body betrays you. Kyle does love you, even if it is in an unfair, distorted and macabre way. And he knows you love him, in a genuine, comforting and undeserving way. 

His hands manage to get to your face, pushing his face forward to kiss your cheek. Baby steps.

“C’mon, love. I'm sorry, please. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll work on it, I promise I never intended to hurt you. I'm sorry, it's the job, I promise. I love you, darling. I really do.” He says, as he drops kisses on your face, lowering to your jaw and the moment he reaches your neck, he smiles, hidden from your eyes, knowing he is keeping you once more. 

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

“Kyle…” You protest, your hand still on his chest and some fight still in you, but he can work it out of you. 

“I'm sorry, dear. I'll treat you better, I promise. As good as you deserve, I promise.” He has you against his chest now, and he feels your hand slowly turning on his chest; your palm much warmer against his skin. 

He sucks on your neck making you whimper and he needs every bit of self-restraint not to laugh at you, not to laugh at how easy it was. He shouldn't have gotten nervous, he’s got you eating out of his hands.

The part of his brain that is still human, that tells him that you are still human starts to talk to his dismay. He knows it! He perfectly knows that he is a monster for how he treats you, that you should be with someone a hundred times better, such a sweet girl stuck together with such a horrible man.

But one of the many traits that make him such a horrible man is how egoistic he is, so he will keep you, even if you don't want to. He'll keep pushing you away and locking the doors so you can't run. Tomorrow he'll burn the suitcase, he is not letting you get this far ever again. 

A glimmer of guilt sits at the bottom of his stomach, a useless feeling. It only means he needs to get inside of you soon, fill himself with the love he so little deserves and fill yourself with empty lies of eternal love.

He grips your thighs, urging you to jump on his hips. You resist for a second too long and he slaps your asscheek making you jump with a whimper.

“I'm gonna make you feel good, love. I'm sorry. I'll make it worth it, I promise.” He says, still biting your neck. The towel around his hips falls at some point, not that he cares; it would get in the way anyway. Just as much as your clothes are, he doesn't bother to let you back on the floor to take them off. He simply grabs the material and rips it on your crotch leaving your cunt exposed. 

He is still standing, he doesn't want you to be able to rely on any support, he wants you to feel that if you don't grab him you'll fall, he wants you to need him just as much as he needs you. He slips his hand behind you, getting a finger inside of you making you whimper as you hide your face on his neck; clinging onto him and he loves it. 

This is how he wants you, desperate for him. Just like he is for you. At his disposal, just for him.

He can feel the wetness dripping down his fingers, he knows he should add more fingers before sinking you on his dick, but he wants to feel you stretch around his dick, moulding yourself just for him, shaping your insides only for him.

You bite his shoulder when he does and he smiles, loving it, he needs it. He needs the pain you inflict on him when he is like this, the bites on his shoulders, the scratches on his back, the kicks on his lower back, all of it. He deserves, he deserves much more. You could sink a knife into his shoulder, cut him to his hip dragging the blade and he would still feel you need to do more.

He is so horrible to you, he knows he hurts you, and he wishes you could hurt him back, let him know what is like. But you never do, because you are too good to hurt the man you love and it only makes him want you to hurt him more. 

He grabs your hips hard, making you bounce on his dick, the room filling with your moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin. There are no more thoughts inside his head, already forgetting the faces of those men who died today, already forgetting their names. This is why he needs you, it would consume him alive if it wasn't for you. He needs you.

You cling to him, moaning his name, you mind forgetting his harsh words already only being able to focus on the way his dick is hitting so deep inside of you. 

He makes sure to go round after round, his seed spilling out of you making him grunt. He should get you pregnant, stuck with him for real that way, forever.

It's only when you can no longer talk that he gets in the bed with you, hugging you tightly, too afraid you'll think about leaving again. 

It's usually at this point he can finally relax, go to sleep and forget about the nightmares his days have been.

But a new nightmare arises when he says, “I love you” and you answer “I know”.

Tomorrow, he is burning your suitcase and he is tying you to the bed. Enough playing around with him, he is here, and you don't need to go anywhere. 

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

And that will remain the same.

Whether you want it or not.

This was my first try at writing something more dark-ish. I'm not really sure if it even classifies as it, but. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway 🩷🩷

@waiting-so-long this is what you have done to me. I don't know if this fits the vision you had but I hope you enjoy it my dear! 🩷🩷

@sgtgarricks here you have it as well, wait no more 🩷🩷

T-List: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago   @tooloudarts

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz #gaz fanfic #gaz imagine #call of duty imagine #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick #cod smut #call of duty smut #kyle gaz smut

[mrskokushibo]

WRONG ?

Muzan x fem!reader x Yoriichi

NSFW I 18+ I MDNI

Synopsis: You are a fanfic writer and your boyfriend Muzan is a star. You love being his girl. But the man has needs that you have been neglecting for a while. Tonight will start a chain of events that will have you asking yourself if sex and love in a relationship truly should be inseparable?

Warnings: Smut. Oral. Threesome. Creampie. Facial. Penetration. Dirty talk. Porn (watching). Mention/description of orgy. Voyeurism. Degrading. Breeding kink. Mild dom! Muzan. Piercing used in sex. FIngering. Orgasm denial. Edging. Masturbation. Modern au.

Word count: 7021

Masterlist

GIFs made by @gojosattoru (Muzan) and @kyoujuro (Yoriichi). Thanks guys!

A/N: This story was requested by the wonderful and oh so talented @muzansfangs ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🙏 "I was thinking of a Modern scenario in which Muzan and the reader are dating. While attending a party together, Muzan gets irritated by the way Yoriichi interacts with you and… Well, how things escalates can be up to you! I trust your abilities and skills!"

Warning banner created by @cafekitsune Thanks!

The club was full tonight, hosting the release party for a new book by one of the most prominent writers in the city. The venue was an old factory building, stylishly renovated with a mixture of white rendered walls, exposed brick, and steel structure, decorated with an eclectic and carefully curated selection of furniture ranging from sleek Scandinavian design armchairs to rococo sofas and chandeliers.

A place that quickly became a favourite with the cultural circles of the city. It was also the home of a popular nightclub on the weekends as well as the venue of choice for a society hosting slightly, well, different types of events, namely invitation-only orgies, that your boyfriend and subsequently yourself were always invited to, but had to decline due to your unwillingness to participate in anything like that.

Tonight’s event was the kind you gladly accompanied him to. As always on such occasions, your boyfriend Muzan Kibutsuji was one of the guests of honour. He was a young star writer, specialising in dark horror and fantasy, having sold over a million copies of his first novel at the tender age of twenty-three. Now, five years later and with another few million books sold, he was among the literary elites. He also had a background in acting, although there was a veil of mystery as to what type of movies, he was in.

You too were a writer and the two of you met at a seminar hosted by your favourite Japanese superstar novelist. Well, you would be lying to yourself if you thought you actually were a professional writer, more of an aspiring writer, really. Your studies and work took up most of your time, so the only writing you did was manga and anime fanfiction. Yes, you felt very inadequate at these parties, but you quickly adjusted to assuming the role of the supportive and devoted girlfriend of the literary star.

And tonight, was no different. You wore a brand new, figure-hugging little black dress and high-heeled thigh-high leather boots. Simple, but sexy. For the last half hour, you were standing idly sipping your champagne, while Muzan was involved in a heated debate with some older, seemingly unimpressed author and his artist friends. You were a little tipsy and were hugging Muzans arm all the while he was busy talking.

He was such a hottie, you thought, you saw the envious looks on the faces of his female colleagues every time he brought you with him to any event. Yes, you could consider yourself lucky. His looks were striking, as he was essentially an albino, meaning his eyes were red and his hair white and wavy, but he always coloured it black. The monochromatic colour combination together with his masculine yet defined and delicate features gave him an exotic and almost out-of-earthly aura. His muscular arms were covered with intricate black gothic tattoos (he had tattoos in other, more intimate places too) and he sported a tongue piercing. His style was a bit steampunk blended with hard rock, he looked good in suits and ripped jeans alike. And he stood almost six feet tall.

The boredom of just standing around was slowly leaving room for thoughts other than literature, you were getting a little horny, to be completely honest with yourself. You were into your third glass of champagne and were slightly tipsy, the ambient rhythmic music, warm dimmed lighting, and the buzz of people talking were putting you into a pleasant lull, making your senses pliable and receptive to new impressions.

Out of nowhere, you started to imagine what it would be like when an orgy is hosted here… the throaty moans and high-pitched squealing of female pleasure mixed with the deep raspy grunts of the men, loud screams of people climaxing and the wet, squelching pounding of flesh against flesh. You could picture naked bodies, bodies in provocative lingerie, illuminated and glossy in the warm light of the chandeliers. It is almost as if you now suddenly were curious about it…

And that is when you noticed him. That other man. He was standing in the middle of the room deep in a conversation with a group of young people. His appearance stood out in the crowd, he was very tall, probably well over six feet, maybe six feet three, with an athletic build. His hair was long and black, tied in a ponytail with cascades of shorter bangs framing his face. Red highlights illuminated his layered hair. He was dressed in tight black jeans and an equally tight black t-shirt, and was wearing long earrings with what looked like the rising sun. There was a strange red mark on his left temple, a birthmark maybe? You could not help it, but you found yourself staring at his bulging biceps every time he lifted his beer to his lips. You were amused with how boredom brought out such primitive instincts in you. You were interrupted by Muzan who nudged you gently,

‘Would you like another drink?’ 

‘Yes, please’ you replied.

He walked away to the bar while texting someone and smirking. He came back with drinks only to find a new group of colleagues taking his attention. So… you proceeded with your little dirty pastime. Suddenly, the man looked in your direction, a dark maroon gaze piercing straight through you. You froze, and at the same time, a familiar heat was starting to spread in your belly. Wetness was pooling between your legs and you were thanking yourself for wearing panties tonight.

He looked away again, but then his gaze was constantly seeking yours for the rest of the evening. When it was time for you and Muzan to leave, while walking past the group with the gorgeous object of your attention, he suddenly looked you up and down and gave you the most lust-filled gaze you could imagine. You were so stunned you kept on staring at him, your head turning back in his direction while you were leaving the room.

The ride home proceeded in awkward silence; you have never seen Muzan in such a strange mood. When you entered the penthouse, you slouched on the sofa and closed your eyes. You were a little tired from all the impressions, especially that specific one… You opened your eyes feeling the presence of your boyfriend. He was standing in front of you holding handcuffs. ‘Move to the armchair’ he commanded in a deep, raspy whisper, the way he almost hissed the words sent a chill down your spine. ‘What now?’ you thought puzzled.

‘I saw what you were doing all night. You were staring at that man like a shameless slut.’

His words were true, you were indeed staring, but so what, this came from the man who suggested attending orgies in the past.

Perplexed, you retaliated: ‘Am I not allowed to look at people anymore?’

‘Oh, my love, you were not just looking, you were eye-fucking him. Do you think I cannot tell the difference?’

You swallowed and obediently moved to the armchair.

He placed your arms on the rests and slowly cuffed each of them to the furniture. Then he picked up the remote and turned on the projector. What was instantaneously visualized on the screen went straight to your sex. It was a close-up of a man and a woman fucking, with loud, obscene moans serving as the soundtrack. The camera started slowly to move away from the copulating pair and the back of the male came into full view, intricate tattoos spreading over his back like a veil of black lace and long, wavy white hair snaking down his neck and shoulders while his hips were rhythmically moving back and forth to slam his dick into the woman. When the camera moved to show the front of him your heart nearly stopped, the red pupils staring intently at the woman he was railing, that face…. It was Muzan. So that was the acting career he was so mysterious about.

In the meantime, Muzan was in the kitchen part of the open-plan living space, texting someone. You were both completely silent while the sounds of sex were filling the space. A few moments later and a pair of now completely soaking wet panties, the doorbell rang. Muzan walked over to open it. His face was adorned with a mischievous smile as he glanced your way. What happened next was something you did not expect and that started an unstoppable chain of events.

The person Muzan let in the apartment was a woman, a petite blond with hair all the way down to her round ass, dressed in a sleeveless skin-tight latex dress, that showed off her large (most presumably) fake silicone breasts. A real little sex kitten. Muzan led her to the sofa and sat down spreading his legs so that she could kneel between them.

He parted her pouting pink lips with his index finger and slid it deep into her mouth while she released a throaty moan, he then pulled the finger out stroking her bottom lip, only to pump the finger back into her mouth even deeper this time while rotating it. His other hand slid down her dress off her breasts and started slowly caressing them, making her moan even harder. He was pinching her nipples, making her perfect little body arch in pleasure, and looking even hotter. All the while her small manicured hands were stroking his crotch and after her back arched from overstimulation, she unzipped his pants and gently pulled out his now fully erect, hard cock. She was stroking it gently and licking the sensitive tip.

Eventually, she sank her head down on the full length, stretching her shiny, pink lips, gagging a little, and continuing to bob her head up and down on his thick length. His dick was large, so that most of the time she was only getting half of it in her mouth with the rest of the shaft treated to a pumping motion by her delicate hands. He threw his head back; you could tell he was close. Her moans were getting louder too and a few moments later he grabbed her by her ponytail and the back of her head and shoved her down into his groin while bucking his hips upwards. The woman gagged heavily, the sound wet and sloppy. He climaxed.

Once he was finished, he let her head go and she slowly pulled away, gasping for air, with spit and cum connecting her mouth to his penis. She looked him in the eye with a submissive almost grateful look. He was still stroking her breasts, while she was licking up all the cum from her lips and sucking his cock clean. And then, just like that she adjusted her clothes, got up, threw him a little kiss, and walked out of the apartment. The porno on the screen was playing all the while this was happening adding to the already surreal and loaded atmosphere.

You were too stunned to even think, let alone say anything. ‘What the fuck did you just witness?’

Without a word Muzan got up from the sofa and walked up to you, his dick still hanging out of his pants. He knelt in front of you and put his hands on your soft thighs, slowly kneading them up towards your crotch. His hands were getting closer and closer to your wet lips and finally they reached your soaked g-string. Muzan started rubbing you through the wet fabric with two fingers.

‘Fuck you are wet. Such a whore you are, getting wet from watching other people fuck. You are a dirty little kitten, aren’t you?’

You were too ashamed to answer, ashamed that something so wrong and apparently hurtful aroused you. You should have been turning your head away, yelling at him, crying even. But all you did was watch… and get wet.

‘You see, my love, when people get jealous, they sometimes stop thinking, they do stupid things. Do you think, what I did was stupid? Hm? But, you know, I got jealous, very jealous. And when you have been such a prude with me for so long, never wanting to do the things I thought we should do and then go drooling after other men, what do you think I should have done?’ His voice was raspy and menacing, but also filled with lust.

Muzan’s fingers were now slowly spreading your labia and rubbing up and down between your slick-soaked folds. You were so wet, his actions created small squelching sounds. He added another finger and slowly worked his way into your dripping pussy, crooking a finger and pumping in with small circular movements that made your muscles clench around him. He then spread your labia and moved in to lick you between your legs. His was giving you long and slow, gentle licks all the way on the very inside of your labia, you could feel the metal of his tongue piercing leaving a streak of extra pressure and thus enhanced sensation on the thin strips of flesh it was touching.

Gradually, he started to increase the force with which he was working his tongue on you. Wherever the piercing pressed on your sensitive flesh, it was exerting extra pressure on your nerves. When he finally reached your clitoris and started circling around it and occasionally skilfully flicking his tongue so that the piercing would hit the sensitive nub, your thighs were sent into convulsions of pleasure. You were starting to edge, your climax so close yet his actions not decisive enough to grant you release. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, while he was flicking his tongue over your clit while all the while pumping his fingers into your pussy. You were so close; you were drooling and tears started to form in your eyes.

‘Muzan, please let me come, I’m so close’ you were moaning and squealing and when you thought he was increasing his pace, he suddenly pulled away and started uncuffing you.

‘Go down on all four for me doll.’

 You did what he asked you to, as you were so greedy to come. You now had the porno in full view in front of you and there he was on the screen fucking two women now, one riding his face and the other his dick. Watching that made you so fucking aroused. It was wrong, but you could not help reacting to it in the way you did. You felt like an animal, driven only by instinct at this point.

Without a word, he spread your ass cheeks and aligned his hard tip at your entrance, and soon his thick girth was pumping in and out of your pussy, wet, sloppy, indecent sounds of the two of you fucking on top of the vulgar sounds coming from the porno were filling the otherwise so elegant and relaxing space of your shared apartment. He was thrusting so hard that with every move you were being sent forwards with so much force that eventually your whole upper body was flat on the soft rug with him pressing down your back with his hand. He increased the pressure, supporting himself almost fully on you, and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

‘I will now come inside you my little whore, I will breed you, because you are my very own whore, I bet you would like to carry my little brat, would you?’

With that he increased the pace and strength of his thrusts, you were clenching around him, desperate to come. His hips and lower abdomen were now pressed flush to your round soft ass and you could eventually feel his lower abs contract indicating his release. His orgasm must have been a big one as he growled while pushing himself in you and releasing a huge load of cum into your fluttering insides.

‘Fuck you were good, kitten. I will sleep so well now.’

He pulled out, stood up and grabbed the remote to turn off the movie, and left for the bathroom. You were left high and dry, or so you thought anyway…

When you entered the bedroom Muzan was seated in the chair lounge next to the lit fireplace and opposite of your shared bed, fully dressed sipping on a glass of single malt whisky. The flame was making his eyes look almost devilish.

‘Here you are. I think you do deserve to come after all, we do not want you to lose sleep, do we?’

There was something so menacing in his voice, something that was hitting all the submissive notes in your entire being.

‘Undress for me, doll’

Without hesitation, you started to take your clothes off.

‘All of it, now!’ He commanded.

You did as you were told.

‘Now. Lay down on the bed so I can see between your legs. Play with yourself for me, make yourself come.’

There was nothing else to do, but to obey and you already felt like you were in a trance, as if nothing of this was real. You laid down and started to flick your nipple and got your imagination ready, and the fantasy that was helping you get off involved the tall man from the party, your only invisible act of defiance against your boyfriend. You imagined him seated on a sofa at the party, with everyone watching while you came up to him and straddled him shamelessly. What followed made you move your hand down between your legs and masturbate. Your fingers were doing their skilled and experienced work and very soon you came. Your orgasm was intense, with waves of pleasure causing your body to arch and convulse, you released a small scream and when the waves of pleasure finally flowed away, you were just lying there, limp with soaking wet fingers and pussy. You licked your fingers dry and closed your eyes.

A harsh yank to your chin shook you out of your bliss. You opened your eyes and the only thing in your line of sight was Muzan’s cock.

‘Open your mouth for me now, sweetheart’

The gentle words were in such stark contrast to what he was about to do because as soon as you opened your mouth, he grabbed you by your neck and shoved himself fully into your mouth, making you gag. He stayed like this for a few seconds, savouring how deep inside your throat his dick was seated, and rotated his hips a little. Then he slowly pulled out, only to slam himself into you again, and again and again, until you were a gagging, drooling mess with tears and mascara running down your cheeks. He pulled out, drool connecting your mouth to his dick, and lifted your head up by yanking you up at your ponytail.

‘I think this is a good look for you, isn’t it, doll? My submissive little kitten, so sweet and obedient. ‘

He shoved himself in you again and this time kept on going until you could feel his muscles spasm and the warm, salty liquid filled your mouth and throat. He pumped into you a few extra times before pulling out. You swallowed most of the cum, but there was still some left on his cock.

‘Clean me up.’

You licked his dick clean and he lifted your head by the chin, so very gently now.

‘Hm, we will both sleep well after this, won’t we?’

And he placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips and went into the bathroom to clean himself up. You followed suit, but you knew you would most likely not sleep all too well, still trying to come to terms with what he has done in front of you with that woman, as well as trying to grasp how in the hell was it your fault. Was he really the jealous type?

-------

The following day began with Muzan getting up and making you both coffees. He behaved as if last night did not happen, something that confused and infuriated you even more. Since it was your day off, you decided to head over to the gym to clear your head and hopefully figure out your next move. Both you and Muzan frequented the same gym in the neighbourhood, the gym was large, but with a relaxed atmosphere. There was also a martial arts dojo in conjunction with it that Muzan went to occasionally, but you never showed any interest in.

As soon as you entered the gym, you nearly froze in your steps. There, next to the reception desk was the man from the party, chatting casually with one of the personal trainers. You stalling in your movement caught his attention and he looked straight at you and waved. As if hypnotised you started slowly walking toward him and finally stopped in front of the man. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up to look at his face.

‘Hi,’ you blurted out.

‘I didn’t know you went to this gym?’

You kept on rambling as if the two of you were already introduced. He looked at you with slight amusement.

‘Yes, I do, and I believe I saw you at the party last night, yes?’

‘Yes.’ You nodded like the idiot you were. For every minute feeling more and more awkward.

‘Well, I guess we should have a proper introduction then. My name is Yoriichi’. He stretched out his hand.

‘Y/n’ you said with overdriven courage as you placed your hand in his large one for a courteous handshake.

‘Excuse me, boss, can you please sign this?’ the two of you were interrupted by an employee of the gym coming up to Yoriichi with some papers. You looked at him and asked surprised.

‘Oh, you work here?’

‘Yes, actually I kind of happen to own the place’ he answered shyly, scratching his head and blushing a little.

While he was busy flipping through the pages you could not help yourself but eye him off discretely and what you saw was waking up the most basic instincts in you. He was wearing cotton tracksuit pants and a singlet in a thin functional material, that showed off his huge toned arms. The outline of his pecs and abs were visible through the thin fabric, you also noted he had powerful, strong thighs, as the fabric of the track pants was stretched at the thickest part of his thigh muscles. You could not help to throw a glance at his shapely glutes and strong hips. When you thought about it, he really had the appearance of some ancient warrior, a samurai maybe. You swallowed quietly, an action he caught you in the middle of.

‘Well, I am done here. I will be taking the rest of the afternoon off today, so I guess I will see you around sometime?’ He spoke.

You just could not let him disappear like this. You gathered your courage and asked

‘Would you have time for a quick coffee then? I changed my mind and will work out later today.’

He studied you for a moment and answered.

‘Why not, actually? I do have the whole day to myself. There is a good café nearby’

You nodded and the two of you started walking out of the gym, him courteously opening the door for you. Luckily, the café really was nearby. You were enjoying your coffee and the casual conversation, but when your fingers met when reaching out for napkins, the two of you went silent almost simultaneously. The truth was that all through the friendly, harmless exchange you were imagining fucking Yoriichi, riding his cock, and touching him in a way that was anything but just friendly. The look in his maroon eyes was starting to reveal something more as well now. And maybe he could pick up on your feelings because the tension between the two of you was becoming palpable. You were soaking wet between your legs and your breathing was becoming heavy, your arousal was powerful: the contraction of the muscles of your vagina started to feel more and more like a rope being tightly twisted into a knot, and this sensation was now spreading up to your cervix making your insides feel like they were on fire.

He sucked in his lips before finally speaking up.

‘You know, I live just around the corner if you would like to have … some lunch with me.’

As if in a trance you answered

‘Yes, I would like that’

But you already knew what you really would like and sensed that this was something he would like as well…

As soon as you stepped into the elevator, he came closer to you and kissed your lips. Very lightly at first, but as soon as he felt you reciprocate the action, he drew you closer to him and the kiss became deeper, with tongues swirling deep in each other’s mouths. He was holding his hips away from yours for now, most likely due to an increasing hard-on, he was a gentleman after all, and did not want to impose that soon. His hands were caressing your back and your body started tingling in pleasure. He was so big, you felt cradled and sheltered, and his warm smell was like a feast for your senses. The elevator reached his floor and he led you into his apartment. It was a bright and beautiful space, cradled in light from the large windows, decorated in oriental, presumably Japanese fashion, with tatamis, low large futon like sofas, beautiful prints of Sakura trees and diverse martial arts weaponry adorning the walls.

He closed the door behind him and swiftly had you up against the nearest wall. He lifted you by your buttocks and you wrapped your legs around his hips. All the while you were entangled in a passionate kiss. He lifted you up and started walking toward the bedroom. When he sat you down on the bed, you began to remove each other’s clothes. His body was even more magnificent naked, and the cock looked… huge. Almost uncomfortably huge.

Yoriichi started crawling on the bed and on top of you, his large body towering over you and making you gasp. His warmth, his smell, it was all so close to you and all you wanted was to drown in him, let him devour you and fuck you senseless. He lowered his hips so they were flush with yours between your legs and started rubbing your wet folds and clit. You were moaning in pleasure. With the other hand, he started massaging your breasts and playing with your hard nipples. You were arching your body and moaning shamelessly.

‘Please fuck me, I want to feel you inside me.’

He did not hesitate to fulfill your plea. Aligning the tip of his cock with the entrance to your sopping-wet pussy, he started to enter you.

He was big, almost too big for your small body to take. Slowly and steadily, he was prying his way into you. Every nerve in your core was pulsing, welcoming this new intruder with increasing wetness and spasming muscles. Your pussy was clenching on him so hard that he was quietly groaning while pushing on into you. He finally bottomed out and lifted himself off you slightly to meet your gaze. His gorgeous maroon eyes now clouded in pleasure, he said softly,

‘I will start moving now, do you feel ready?’

Did you ever… ‘Of course,’ was all you could say in a weak voice.

Slowly, at a languid pace, he began to rhythmically pump into you, his hips hitting yours every time he was bottoming out. You have never been this stretched out in your life, his girthy, long cock literally moulding your velvet walls to its shape, hitting your cervix with every slow pump. You were starting to edge, with the sensitive spots deep inside you being stimulated nearly constantly now. He kept on going like this for a while making your eyes roll to the back of your head and drool running down the side of your mouth.

‘Yoriichi, can you go a little faster? I am about to come’ you moaned out to him, as you could not control yourself any longer. The knot inside you running all the way from your opening to the tip of your cervix, was about to burst.

He picked up the pace and soon enough you were slowly dissolving into your climax, your whole body shaking and spasming from the intense pleasure you were gifted. You were so wet now, your cum seeping down your thighs onto Yoriichi. He shuffled himself up slightly and put you in a mating press. His cock was even deeper inside you, he started chasing his own release. His pace increased and soon it was ruthless and fast, abusing your cervix and every overstimulated spot deep inside you. You could feel his heavy balls slam into you with every powerful thrust. The man had the stamina of a god and went on in this unforgiving tempo for quite a while. Gradually, his thrusts were getting sloppy and when he finally came, filling you up with his warm semen, he bottomed out deep inside you, his hips pushing you up toward the headrest of the bed and staying like this for a couple of seconds. He then pumped into you a few times, following the movement of his spasming abdomen muscles. When he stopped, he sank his head, still hovering over you supported on stretched-out straight arms. Sweat was running down his chest. He slowly rolled over on his back, taking you with him in an embrace that placed you laying down straight on top of him.

And that is when you noticed a presence in the room. You turned your head around towards the doorway and to your shock and surprise you saw your boyfriend stand there, leaning on the door frame with arms crossed and head tilted backwards in a brattish manner. His hair was out and cascading down his shoulder in black ringlets.

‘I hope I am not interrupting. Do you mind if I join in?’ He asked with a smirk. You instantly wondered how long he was there watching you and Yoriichi fucking.

‘Please do, unless y/n has some objections?’ Yoriichi said and tilted your head up to look at him. ‘Are you ok with this, y/n? ‘

‘I guess I don’t mind’ You did not really know what to say, your sex seemingly dictating your choices for you since last night.

‘Good, this will be fun.’ Muzan said and started to get undressed.

In the meantime, Yoriichi moved to his side and let you down on the soft mattress, so that you were on your side facing him. With an already erect dick bobbing in front of him, Muzan walked over to where you and Yoriichi were and crawled into bed to lie down behind you. He kissed and licked your neck, you could feel the metal of the piercing dragging on your soft skin, and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it gently, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. He then leaned into your ear and with a deep, soft whisper asked:

‘How did you like him, doll? Was he big enough for you?’

He kept on kissing your neck and dragging the pierced tongue along it and massaging your body with his hand while pressing his erect cock in your soft ass. Yoriichi at the very same time started kissing your mouth and rubbing your breasts.

You did not think it was at this stage possible to get more aroused, but you did. Your pussy was aching so badly now, all you wanted was for the men to give it to you. Rough, fast however they wished to fuck you. You wanted to feel full, the craving growing for every minute making your insides burn with need. The sensation of both these attractive men being so close to you, their hands touching every part of your body, was making you feral, totally wild with anticipation. Seeing and feeling the athletic, tall, and big Yoriichi, with his smooth and glossy skin and your exotic-looking, tattoo-covered and pierced boyfriend so close to your own body was a sensation that was driving you crazy. It was almost as you were a goddess worshipped at the altar of lust.

‘How do you think we should proceed?’ Muzan asked Yoriichi in a playful tone.

‘Hmm, where we are is good, no offense, but I am the bigger one here, so I think it is best if you go in the backway’ Yoriichi answered.

Muzan sighed and smirked. ‘Good point, do you happen to have lube around here?’ Yoriichi stretched an arm behind him to reach under the bed and pulled out a bottle of anal lube.

‘You dirty fuck, this looks like you have been having some fun’ Muzan noted as the bottle was only half full.’ Yoriichi did not answer to that but his smile said it all.

While Yoriichi was working on your pussy and breasts, Muzan poured a fair bit of lube on your opening and started to massage your puckering hole. Slowly and gently, the sensation was so different from anything you ever experience before, but so delicious at the same time. He slowly pushed in a finger and was circling it gently. A second finger came in and he was scissoring them inside you. Yoriichi was now lining himself up to enter you again. His hard tip rubbing between your folds as Muzan added another finger and was whispering sweet, honey-glazed words in your ears in order to get you relaxed.

‘Be a good kitten for me now, such a gorgeous little obedient doll, I will spread that tight little ass for you and you will beg me for more’

The sweetness in his voice was almost demeaning. He kept on pumping his fingers in you, but you just could not relax.

‘Baby, I can’t do it. Not today. Can we do something else?’

Muzan pulled out his fingers out of you and nodded at Yoriichi

‘Well, doll, in such case you will have to take that huge dick of his down your throat, because I want to be in one of your holes, no matter what.’

You shifted to all four and Yoriichi knelt in front of you offering you his cock. You started licking the leaking tip and pumping the shaft with your small hand, barely getting a proper grip. In the meantime, Muzan positioned himself behind you and all of a sudden slammed his dick into you. This propelled you forward and you almost speared yourself on Yoriichi’s cock, swallowing nearly the entire length. He groaned from the sensation and you gagged heavily. Once the two of you adjusted positions so that you could comfortably work on his dick, Muzan started moving his hips into you again. You worked with the rhythm he was setting as there was no use trying to stay still and resisting his movement from pushing you forward. Every time his hips slammed into you, you sank your mouth over Yoriichi’s cock and you continued like this for a good while.

Your mouth and throat were stretched almost to the brink of discomfort from the huge girth and length. The pleasure you felt from Muzan repeatedly hitting your g-spot was making you moan louder and louder and your moans were sending vibrations through Yoriichi’s dick making it twitch and grow.

‘I’m going to come soon’ he groaned.

He pulled out of you, gave his cock a few pumps and unloaded the content of his balls in your face, warm cum spraying into your open mouth and down your chin and throat. Neither you nor Muzan were far off from your orgasms either. It took a few more fast thrusts from him to make your knot burst and you reaching your release. And a few more thrusts later and Muzan was spraying his cum into your still fluttering walls. The amount of pleasure you experience this afternoon was overwhelming and you collapsed exhausted, but utterly satisfied on the mattress.

Yoriichi got up and came back with a few towels. He helped you clean up your face and handed a towel to Muzan who then cleaned you and yourself up. Yoriichi was the first one to go to the bathroom and have a shower and after him, it was Muzan’s turn. Once the two men were decent again, Yoriichi informed you that they would prepare lunch so that you would have some time to yourself to recover and relax. You spent half an hour in the bedroom and went out to them, still in a complete state of confusion.

‘Hi there. I hope you are hungry.’ Yoriichi said.

‘I seem to have cooked too much pasta, but hey, we need the energy’ he grinned broadly. ‘By the way, I think you owe your lovely girlfriend an explanation’ he said turning to Muzan.

‘Yes, you are right. It is about time to clarify the situation. Sorry to have confused you and sorry for the bit with Lulu, I might have gone a bit too far there. You know when I got up to get the drinks at the party? I noticed that you were eyeing off Yoriichi for a while, and out of the blue, and boredom, I came up with a wicked little plan. Something to shake you up and make you more, adventurous. I really wanted to get you out of your shell. So, I texted him quickly what I had in mind and off we went. I am storyteller, after all.’

You turned to Yoriichi, slightly disappointed

‘So… you were not really attracted to me, hey? It was just a game?’

Yoriichi responded ‘Oh no, not at all. Muzan showed me picturess of you many times before and I must say I was envious of him being with someone so smart, kind, and attractive. So, when he suggested this, the idea went straight to my dick.’

Muzan now continued: ‘Lulu, that girl, by the way, is a porn actress and married to a friend of mine. They own an adult movie production company together and I have known them both for a while. But back to the story. As I said, I wanted you to see that there is so much more to life than being a prude, that sex is one of the most indulgent pleasures gifted upon mankind and not immersing ourselves fully in that gift is, well, a sin in my eyes.

I do believe that deep emotional love, a connection of souls runs deeper than any physical connection ever can. We are all animals and sex is dirty and amazing at the same time, the ultimate tool to express love, yes, but love can exist without it if you know what I mean. I will love you forever, for all eternity. I believe we are soulmates and we are connected and will always be drawn to each other in every world we are born into. Even if we never have sex again, I want you to be mine and mine only. When you want kids and a house with a white picket fence or whatever dream you may have, we will do it, of course. But for now, while we still are young let us indulge in what this carnal world has to offer. I want you to lose all restraints, and fulfill all your desires. When I saw you looking at our glorious friend here, I knew that if that is what you are into, I will make sure you get what you desire.’

When Muzan finally went quiet, it was Yoriichi’s turn to speak and he suddenly went serious.

‘I have known Muzan for a long time, but our friendship blossomed after my wife died. He was there for me all the way through my lowest. And believe me, it was an epic low. She was pregnant with what was to be our first child when she died in a car crash. Some drunken asshole drove into her car on the highway. My beloved wife and I started the gym and later the martial arts dojo together. These were our passions and I will never love anyone like I loved her ever again. All I have left is the gym and dojo and they are like babies to me. I am no monk and need sex, a lot of it, but only for recreation.’

All the time Yoriichi was speaking, Muzan held his arm around your back, his embrace tightening when Yoriichi mentioned the tragic story of his marriage.

‘Well, enough of the seriousness. Let us eat’ Yoriichi interrupted himself now.

You could not help to notice, that he was not the best of cooks, the pasta was slightly overcooked and the sauce too salty, but it was a sweet gesture of him to cook for his friends and by the way you were starving after everything that was happening for the past twenty-four hours. The wine he served with lunch was on the other hand fantastic and after a couple of glasses, the warm, fuzzy feeling of slowly getting tipsy was putting you in a relaxed state.

Looking at the two amazing men, you now started to understand what your boyfriend was talking about and wanted for you all the way. The normal scenario would involve you having to choose one of them, there would be drama, heart-brake and the euphoria of new love would eventually dim by the negative effects of it all. Thanks to Muzan’s approach, however, you never needed to choose now. The love the two of you shared was just as he described, transcending space and time. But the basic, carnal desire you felt for Yoriichi was also real. Being able to have it all, and more… was indeed the best you could ever wish for. Assured in this new discovery, you closed your eyes and let yourself daydream now finally receptive to visualise desires without any more restraints…

 

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Thank you for being here for me and for the ongoing source of inspiration:

@doumadono @muzansfangs @muzanswaifu @koku-shibou @paintoreos @fuckkyourlife @koyuki-the-flower @doumaslotus @kyoujuro @angelltheninth @tired-writer04 @sunsblaze @ask-yoriichi

Reblogs and feedback are welcome.

#smut #kny smut #demon slayer #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #muzan smut #kny muzan #yoriichi smut #yoriichi x reader #muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #muzan kibutsuji #kny x y/n #kny x you #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x female reader #demon slayer x you #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kny imagines #kny yoriichi #yoriichi x you #yoriichi x y/n #yoriichi tsugikuni #muzan kny #muzan #fanfiction #fanfic

[ornii]

Bitterly Beautiful: Tame The Stress 🍋

Writers Block was a serious detriment to artists of literary all over the world. It even hampers the writing of Wednesday Addams, as invincible as she portrays herself. You sat gingerly on her bed, listening to her type away on the machine she uses near on her desk, you gently polished your cane, feeling the smooth wood along your palm and the slight sleek feel of the rag in your other. You were fairly content with how you spend your time with Wednesday.

She was the definition of Anti-social but you weren’t necessarily a people person either, that made spending time together just effortless. You both stayed in the room but mostly did your own thing, it’s the company she had is what made you so enthralled.

Your Blindness made reading her novel basically impossible, but it didn’t stop you from asking her to read it to you, still wanting to listen to your Girlfriends work. Knowing her in and out, you could always sense if something was up, the Octave in her vocal ranges goes up or down a pitch, her increased heartbeat, telltales of stress or anxiety. You could almost feel her scowling at the Typewriter as she stoped and typed spastically. You heard a sigh of annoyance and you knew she was hitting a block.

“Having trouble?” You asked, placing the cane down to prop yourself up on it. Wednesday wasn’t one for expressing feeling or even discomfort, she always kept aloof and distant. But lying to you was nearly impossible. Wednesday kept her nightly clothing simple, a pair of short black shorts and a desk black nightgown that lacked any flair, it looked more like an oversized t-shirt, but you obviously didn’t complain.

“It seems I’ve hit what weak minded writers call a “writers Block” she explained, she raised her hand to type once more and you could sense it just from her body movements.

“It isn’t Weak minded to be mentally stumped. Take a break, talk with me, or play your Cello.” You approach and knelt down slightly to be on her level. Wednesday turns her head to you, you could never truly understand what Wednesday looked like but you always had a general idea and sense, regardless she was beautiful.

“I don’t need your pity. especially from a blind man.” She huffed and went back to her work. But Wednesday wasn’t going to listen to your advice. There was always one thing that did really take off the stress from people, and it was your Boyfriend duties to make sure Wednesday was accurately taken care of. You calmly got down on all fours as she ignored you, and slipped under her desk. She continued to fumble with her writing, your hands gently poked her foot. She ignored it until you gently traced it along her shin and up to her knee, and softly kissed it.

“(Y/n), I’m not in the mood for your—“ she attempted to reprimand you, but you casually and gently placed your head on one of her legs. “Babe, just enjoy yourself.” You said in a loving whisper, you used both palms to softy grip her thighs, right below the Shorts, her skin was always soft and well taken care of.

You slowly and carefully went up her legs, feeling the tensing of her body. She was trying to ignore you, ignore your hands but it was slowly melting her icy resolve. Your fingertips gently brushed higher and higher right to her thighs, and trickled back down her shorts. You felt a sudden shift and you slowly crept closer and closer, palms gently closing in to her underwear. You felt her toes curl and a sigh of slight surprise come from her nose.

“Just relax, and enjoy yourself, Enids not here.” You spoke so softly but deeply, something about it almost made her shift switches in her brain. Your palms felt her legs spread a bit almost inviting you to get her off.

Wednesdays brain began to flow a bit more, this time typing on the Story she’s doing, your fingers reached slightly under her gown and to the waistband of her shorts and underwear, with a little pull you felt her clothes slip off. Your warm breath gently brushing up against her slightly aroused clit. You heard a slight shiver from your Girlfriend as she typed. More aggressive.

“You only have a few minutes before I— ooooh~” You leaned your head in and didn’t hesitate to give her inner lips a warm wet greeting. The suddenly shift of your warm wet tongue on her body made her demeanor shift to a woman in actual pleasure. You lapped your tongue all over and made sure to gently nudge her clitoris every time to tease her.

You shifted your body lower, letting Wednesday rest her legs on your shoulder as you worked your way inside her. Oral wasn’t something you both did since she viewed normal sex as more than satisfactory, and you didn’t particularly complain about it either. Being with her was more than enough, she obviously underappreciated how good you were, Wednesday at this time had completely abandoned her story and leaned on her arm, trying to hold it together as she felt you breath, tongue, saliva, all over her exposed privates. Her other hand rushed under the table to grip your hair. Wednesday wasn’t an aggressive lover on purpose, she just didn’t know how to be gentle.

“Move your.. tongue an inch to the right, yes.. there.” Wednesday was breathing much heavier than expected, she began to lean back, slowly coming to an orgasm.

“Keep going, don’t you dare stop..” she ordered, but it didn’t sound like authority, more like a woman telling you how to make the next few moments really matter. Your tongue slipped inside and the slightest gasp of air from her were music to your ears.

“There, I feel it, coming… I… I feel it…” Wednesday cocked her head back, gripping your scalp she wrapped her legs around your head and neck, pulling your tongue and face in deep, feeling her pussy convulse and drip right on your face, slowly trailing down your chin.

Her legs were shaky, exhausted from getting a very good workout. She finally relented and let your breath as you pulled back, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t see it but the sound of dripping on the door and Wednesday silence but heavy breath told you that you were doing just fine. Coming back from the desk you crept back up behind her, your face next to hers. “Feeling better?” You said into her ear, all of this intensity caused your cock to harden like stone and make it pretty obvious what’s next.

Standing up your bulge was nudged against her face, Wednesday looked up at you, and attempted to stand up but got a bit wobbly. She didn’t hesitate to shove her lips on yours. They wrestled for control as her hand pressed firmly on the outline of your cock. With a fumble and tumble with your clothes you both stripped down, taking a break, you felt the girl yank you to her bed, getting on all fours and bending over, she looked back at you.

“Do not make me beg..” she said, but you didn’t have to ask. Your hands grip her waist.

“Don’t hesitate to— Fuck!~” Wednesday tried not to make that kind of sound but it was too late, the sudden impact of your cock drilling into her made her cry out in please. She gripped the bed as you pulled out of her wet insides and went back in for good measure, giving her a heavy hammer to her insides as you thrust away.

Wednesday didn’t try to fight you in this, she wanted to be taken, to let you give it to her the way you wanted, the way you knew you both liked it. The way her insides squeezed around you, the way the sweat dripped off your chest and onto her back, the sounds she makes when you give her slightly pale ass a good slap. Her face buried into the pillows as she gasped and tried to hold on to some control but it wasn’t easy for her.

“I’m, gonna cum.”

“Do it… inside me… p-please… I can’t take it anymore.” Wednesday for the first time begged so softly for it. You gave her exactly what she asked, you gripped her pigtails and yanked as your legs grew numb, hitting the climax you let as much of it inside as you could. Reorganizing her insides to only fit you. Panting like a dog you almost fell on top of her, you held yourself up as she slide off your cock and collapsed into her bed, you fell next to her, feeling her breath brush against your neck as you slept.

You had woken tired, But somehow also more lightweight. Like you really took a load off, you sat up to sense where and what was going on. You felt something along your stomach and chest, a body, Wednesday was sleeping on you. Well she was awake.

“Hey sleepyhead?” You joked, Wednesday was silent, until she tilted her head to face you.

“Thank you for, letting me see reason, I needed to relax and you gave me what I needed, even though I thought I knew better.” She admits, your hand softly caressed her head as she put it back down to sleep.

“It’s okay, you were stressed, at least you tamed it.” You reassured her, and she sighed.

“No, you tamed it.”

#male reader #netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday x reader #reader insert #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday smut #wedensday x you #ornii #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x male!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for catfishing/lying to my friends?

Ok, I know some people will say this is fake or bait or whatever but 🤷‍♂️ This isn't pressing or anything, either, I just wanna see what people think because the situation was wild.

I'm not sure if this fits into what people consider catfishing but I don't think there's a better word for it. When I (ftm) was young (11 or so) I faked having a boyfriend to all my friends. He was a cool, older emo boy that I talked to on kik.

My friends eventually asked more questions (I'm pretty sure they thought he was fake lmao) I made a fake kik for him so they could talk to him. I would pretend to be him to talk to them.

From there things just spiraled. They asked to talk to him other ways? I made an email and got a texting app on my ipod. They wanted to see him? I got pictures that were just random emo boys off of google images.

I kept up this lie for all of middle school (11-13) for about 3-6 girls I was close friends with. I never came clean.

Now, I'm sure they had to know? I'd use pictures of different emo boys, it was rarely consistent. He had a super fake name (think like, gothic literary references). In hindsight? I was just enjoying pretending to be a boy and being treated like one. But still, probably weird. They talked to him pretty regularly as if he was human. I'm autistic though, and if they didn't believe in him and were all laughing behind my back I had no idea. I think they really did believe though, because, I'll be honest, a few of them were a little gullible (I'm not above this! I believed another friend when she said she was a mermaid princess.)

I'm only submitting this because I told the story to some friends recently and they all reacted with shock and horror. I think it's weird tween girl behavior tbh, no big deal. He was just another member of our friend group in a distant way. I was weirdly addicted to lying for attention or something. No harm no foul. I'd ask these girls/come clean, but we don't talk anymore and it's been like over a decade. If I was an asshole I'll just know not to tell it as a funny anecdote anymore.

(Also if any of the girls involved happen across this, hiiii, sorry. And double sorry if this is how you realize he was fake 😬)

tl;dr: When I was 11 I pretended to be my own emo boyfriend to like, be friends with my own friends x2 and to get more attention ig? I have no idea if this is a funny story I can tell my friends a decade later now, or if I should bury it in shame and never tell anyone.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[dawn-moths]

Wriothesley x Female Reader

word count: 3000+

(Even after serving your time in the Fortress of Meropide and deciding to return to your life in Fontaine, you still have good reason to drop in and give the Duke a visit from time to time.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, reader is handcuffed with a belt, sub/dom dynamics, fingering, doggy-style (vaginal sex), aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

As Wriothesley tugged his belt free from the loops in his trousers, slow and methodical, he cracked a smirk and huffed out a short breath of a laugh, his voice echoing faintly throughout the room when he said, “Hey, you like magic tricks, don’t you?”

He knows you do. You wouldn’t stop talking about Lyney and Lynette’s latest performance— the deadly precision, the dazzling display of showmanship, the subversion of expectation that left you wonderstruck each and every time. So, when you gave a cute little smile and an eager nod, perking up at the prospect of potential entertainment, well…

The Duke just couldn’t help himself.

He was standing at the bottom of the staircase, biding his time, having enjoyed the view of you immersed deep into some fantasy world between a bundle of dog-eared pages, not a care or concern in the world other than what would become of the fictional characters you’d quickly grown attached to. About an hour or so ago, he’d told you to entertain yourself while he went off to attend to some urgent business, “Shouldn’t take long,” he’d said, and had slipped back into his office without you even noticing. Now, as you stared at him with awaiting, curious eyes, he flexed the belt in his hands, gently testing its strength and give. 

With a playful, beckoning wave of a gloved hand, he said, “Come ‘ere. I wanna show you something…” and you obediently obliged, rising from your seat behind his big desk, leaving your latest literary adventure lying open-faced on the tabletop, to follow after him down the winding spiral staircase and into the bedroom that was hidden below. Wriothesley gripped the strap of burgundy leather tightly in his hands, his fists flexing over it as if trying to contain his eagerness once you were standing before him by the bed, hands lightly clasped behind your back, staring up at him with those big, innocent doe-eyes that made him go a little insane inside.

“Now, watch very closely…” the Duke instructed, though with an air of light mockery as he pretended to sound like the magicians you were so taken by as of late. You hummed out a little giggle at his imitation and watched as he slipped the end of the belt back through the buckle, tugging it through and threading it back around to repeat the first motion, creating a sort of figure 8 design before wrapping the remainder of the leather all the way around and securing it through the middle of the buckle one final time. “Now, hold out your hands.” 

You gave him an inquisitive yet distrusting look, but even before your brain could finish coming up with possible outcomes of where this trick might lead, you were obeying his command and presenting him with both of your wrists side by side out in front of you.

The moment he slipped the widened gaps of the contraption he’d created around your delicate wrists, quickly pulling the loose end he’d looped through the buckle last to cinch the leather flush against your skin, you realized you’d walked right into his trap.

You let out a startled gasp and made small sounds of struggle as you tried to tug your wrists free, but to no avail. Wriothesley let out another one of those silky, sonorous chuckles that sent the flock of butterflies in your tummy aflutter, despite the fact you felt a little betrayed by him weaponizing your naivety against you.

“Really walked into that one, didn’t ya?” he rhetorically asked, crossing his arms and allowing himself to watch your pitiful attempts at escape for a little longer.

“This isn’t magic, it’s just a trick!” you accused, brows pinched slightly in an irritated scowl, still helpless against the worn leather.

“Ah, but, if you’d been paying attention,” Wriothesley began, holding up a finger in accentuation as he strode a few smooth paces closer, “you’d recall I never said I was showing you a magic trick. I simply asked if you liked magic tricks, then said I wanted to show you something.” He looped his extended pointer finger into one of the gaps, lightly pulling your bound wrists and, along with them, yourself, closer toward him.

Lowing his voice to what sounded like nearly a growl, some kind of sinister satisfaction flashing behind his silver gaze, he said, “See what happens when you make baseless assumptions?”

Honestly, Wriothesley was impossible sometimes. Whether it was his mind games or technicalities, he always seemed to find new ways of getting you right where he wanted you while making you do most of the work.

“Ok, show’s over,” you droned, giving him a blatantly unamused look now. “Let me go.”

To this, the Duke merely scoffed.

“Let you go?” he repeated, as if the notion was the most preposterous thing he’d heard all week. He clicked his tongue, shook his head, giving the cuffs another teasing tug, lips splitting into a crookedly amused grin when you let out a quiet, helpless gasp. “Now where’s the fun in that? Besides, I think you know better than most…” He leaned in, lips right beside your ear, and whispered, low and husky, “My prisoners are treated rather well here…”

“I’m not your prisoner,” you reminded him. “At least… Not anymore.”

Because, yes, while you’d once lived under his rule and his reign for the crime you’d committed, those days were now behind you. You’d served your sentence and then chosen to return to the outside world. You’d rather missed your friends and family in Fontaine and, while you’d considered yourself lucky to have gotten into good company with the Duke, you also felt you couldn’t just leave your old life completely behind you.

Hence why you only made trips down into the depths of the Fortress of Meropide for these very special, though oftentimes short visits. You’d gotten a taste of something in this place that the outside world just didn’t have to offer. But, if anyone else had ever been in your position, you doubted they could blame you for indulging the addiction.

“Ok then,” Wriothesley bartered. “Why don’t we make a deal then? You have the next five minutes to get out of these, and if you do, I’ll give you a special prize…” He narrowed his gunmetal gaze at you, something playfully cruel shimmering amidst all that mischievous silver. “But if you can’t, well—” He gave a nonchalant shrug and finished with a rather confident, “then I guess you’ll have to give me something instead.”

“Alright,” you agreed, lifting one eyebrow and now wearing a smirk yourself. “Challenge accepted.” And when you’d entered willingly into his little game, you’d really thought you’d stood a chance. How hard could it be to get out of handcuffs made of leather anyway? It’s not like he’d clapped the metal ones you knew he always kept on his person around your wrists instead. Those, as you’d experienced first hand, were absolutely inescapable.

But as the minutes passed, you struggling more and more with each one that ticked by, Wriothesley keeping an eye on his watch as he leaned back against the wall opposite the bed, eyes flicking up to watch you writhe and grunt as you tried and failed to pull your wrists free, you were beginning to regret being so cocky.

Besides, Wriothesley had never been one to let someone beat him at his own game.

“And… Three… Two… One,” Wriothelsey announced, marking the end of the challenge and your loss of the bet. “Better luck next time, hon,” he said through a mocking pout, looking only half apologetic for a second before approaching you again. “Guess it’s time you give the winner his prize.”

His tall shadow swallowed your form, eyes staring up at him in that delectably pleading, helpless way he’d grown so addicted to back when you were one of his inmates. Your face said you were awaiting punishment but your body was anticipating pleasure, that warm, rolling feeling of arousal tightening in your lower belly.

“Oh…” you rolled your eyes as Wriothesley pinned you to his bed, cuffed wrists clasped in one of his big, rough hands above your head. “And to think,” you teased, “that you’d be so predictable now.”

Wriothesley flashed you a dangerous look, one of a sharp-toothed smirk and half-lidded eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dim light, clicking his tongue as if disappointed in you, increasing his grip on the cuffs while he began to undo the button on his trousers with the other.

“So mouthy today,” he remarked, that familiar growl laced into his tone. The one that warned you you were on thin fucking ice. The one that you often ignored, kept on pushing just to see how far he’d let you go. More often than not, this earned you double the original punishment he’d had in store for you, but secretly, you liked that. Once Wriothesley had caught onto that fact, it hadn’t stopped him. He’d just learned how to twist things so he got to have a little fun too. “Guess I’ll have to remind you what happens when you talk back…”

Cock already hard and aching as he gripped it in his hand, you gasped when he roughly hiked up your skirt and grinded his erection against your dampening panties, your breath hitching in your chest every time his velvety tip brushed against your swollen, sensitive little clit, wanting more, needing more.

And Wriothesley knew he’d soon have you exactly where he wanted you. That defiant attitude of yours reduced to nothing more than a chorus of pathetic whines and pleading for him to “get inside me, please— Please, Wrio, I need it!”

And he’d give you what he wanted. No matter how much he tried to act cold and callous you knew he had a soft spot just for you. But before he did, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use the opportunity to make you squirm just for the hell of it.

“Awww, what’s the matter, sweetheart?” the Duke cooed, words dripping with saccharine condensation. He used both hands to secure your hips as he grinded down against you harsher than before, nearly knocking the breath from his own lungs as he sighed out a strained, “Suddenly— fuck— at a loss for words?”

You were desperately trying to cant your hips upwards to gain more friction, but his firm grip on you made that impossible. You’d completely forgotten he’d let go of your wrists, though they were still securely bound, merely chasing the fleeting pleasure he was reluctantly granting you.

“Ok… Ok, Wrio, please—” you finally broke, sentence clipped off into a delicate, musical little mewl, soft as a feather floating on a breeze. “Please, I’ll be good, just— Please—”

Wriothesley couldn’t take much more of this either, so, per your unclarified request, he swiftly pushed your soaked panties aside and slipped two of his thick digits into your weeping cunt, sucking in a small hiss of a breath through clenched teeth when he curled his fingers inside and felt how tight your pussy was trying to squeeze him, craving something bigger to fill it up.

You shivered, already beginning to feel that tight coil in your core pulling taut, mouth hanging open in silent ecstasy, huffing out panting little breaths and eyes rolling beautifully as your back began to arch off the firm mattress. Wriothesley’s skilled fingers worked you over like it’s what they’d been designed to do, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing rough circles over your pulsing little bud, gaze glued to your leaking little hole, mesmerized by how gorgeous you were like this, completely bent to his will.

“Archons, baby…” He said, soft and in awe like reciting a prayer, spreading your slick around like an artist creating his next masterpiece. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Fuck me, you wanted to answer. Fuck me until all I know is you, you, and nothing but you.

Wriothesley then seemed to come to some kind of conclusion, the contemplation shining in his eyes as fast and as bright as a shooting star. Then, he was gripping your hips again and flipping you over, instructing you to stay on your elbows and knees as he lined himself up with your fluttering entrance.

“Wrio…?” you asked, his name sounding fragile and broken and confused as it left your succulent little mouth.

He hushed you, gentle and reassuring, suddenly gone all sweet and soft for you like he usually tended to do, once he was done playing his games with you. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning over you to press his warm, broad chest against your back. “Just trust me.”

Slowly, carefully, he began to nudge his way into your needy little hole, wrapping his arms around you and helping you to adjust until you found the position that felt the best for the both of you. Then, once he was fully inside and you were recovered from the sweet, stinging stretch of him, Wriothesley began to move, the motion of his hips smooth and intentional, nearly pulling all the way out before pushing back in, the rhythm gaining more speed every couple of thrusts.

By now, a thin sheen of sweat had broken out on both your brows, your legs beginning to tremble when he grazed over that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you, the one you could never quite reach on your own. Still holding you close, he used one hand to massage more skillful circles onto your already overstimulated little bundle of nerves, the pressure ebbing and flowing between soft and hard, trying to keep your orgasm at bay for just a little longer.

“Wrio—” you moaned, all pliable and angelic and all his, his, his.

“Almost there, baby—? God—!” The air was punched from Wriothesley’s lungs upon his next thrust, his normally sure and even voice cracked and fissured by a strangled whine, movements beginning to become erratic as he neared his own edge. He tightened his arms around your body, trying to hold you impossibly close, truly become one with you, as if your soul could melt right into his like two pieces of candy left out too long in the sun, gooey and combined and no longer distinguishable from one another, only known henceforth as their own unique, singular entity. 

“‘M gonna—!” You suddenly gasped, your silky walls clenching around his cock hard enough to lace his next breath with a beautiful whimper, both your bodies tensing under the shared release, soaking and filling each other to the brim with each other’s balmy pleasure.

You went slack in Wriothesley’s hold, which didn’t lessen an inch until he’d found his way back to reality, temporarily blinded by the all-encompassing sensation of bliss your body always gifted him. Once his vision could focus and his brain could think, he carefully pulled out of you, allowing you to lower all the way down to the mattress, completely spent and limbs like jelly.

The Duke unfastened the belt-cuffs from around your wrists, tossing the twisted mangle of leather aside and laying across from you, tenderly taking your sore, slightly chafed wrists in his grasp and placing tender kisses along the thin, delicate skin, murmuring little praises to you that you barely registered in your fucked-out state.

“So good for me… Always so good for me…” he hummed, his chaste, closed mouth kisses traveling further up your arms as if he intended to place his lips to every inch of you. “My perfect, perfect girl…”

You were pulled back to earth by the time his lips found yours, parting them for him as if on instinct, tethered by the way his tongue refamiliarized itself with the shape of your mouth.

It was languid, messy, threatening to stir up that honey-dipped lust for him that never seemed to abate inside of you again. But then Wriothesley pulled away, only far enough to gaze lovingly into your eyes, smiling— actually smiling— to himself at the sight of you, glowing with a post-sex haze.

“Wrio…?” you spoke, voice like a butterfly’s wing.

“Hmm…?” he hummed, gently brushing the back of his knuckles along your soft cheek.

“Do you…” You hesitated then, knowing the question was one you were afraid to ask. Had been afraid to ask for a while, only because you knew his answer could possibly change the path of your fate. You swallowed hard, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to bask in his gentle touches for a few strokes longer. Then you said, “Do you ever wish I would’ve stayed?”

Wriothesley’s ministrations paused, something unreadable now swimming in all that entrancing silver. He threaded his long fingers through your hair, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, taking in a long, deep breath just to share the same air as you.

“I only wish I could go with you,” he murmured, the confession barely a whisper, so quiet, as if he were afraid the very admittance would sink the Fortress to the very bottom of the sea. Then he opened his eyes, leaned back a few inches to meet yours again, and added on a solemn, “Sometimes…”

You wrapped your arms around him then, wanting to keep him close, wanting to lay here like this with him forever. But eventually, you drifted off to sleep. When you did, Wriothesley only allowed himself to stay beside you a few minutes longer before going to tend to cleaning both of you up, wiping away the mess between your legs you two had made as gently as possible so he wouldn’t wake you. He knew, when you rose, you’d have to say your goodbyes and return to the surface.

“Not goodbye,” you’d always remind him after your parting kiss, giving him one of those innocent little smiles that made him wonder how you’d ever survived this place at all, your eyes glittering with affection. “Only until next time.”

Until next time, Wriothesley thought. And then, how lucky I am to have earned a next time.

***

(Honestly, I just saw a video of someone making handcuffs with a belt and thought, “You know who would do that… Wriothesley,” lol

But anyway, I hope you enjoyed and are having as much fun with the new Fontaine characters as I am heehee :) 

Hope everyone has a wonderful day!)

#wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #wriothesley smut #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader

[berryfeilds]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

Summary- Steve now has the floor to fix your desperate attempt.

or

part two because steve is an idiot.

Warnings- reader is described with female attributes, food is mentioned (not in a triggering way), cuss words, a little angst?, VERY BAD WRITING PLEASE,

W/C- 5.4k

A/N: the long-awaited part 2 LMFAOO😭 literally quit and got lazy for the ending, and i couldn't find pics that match this fics aesthetic so. ALSO this is such a mess like be careful reading, you're gonna get confused. and i guess this could also be read as a stand-alone i think but yeah enjoy this is a literary piece of shit.

✦ Regard the links below about S5 of ST.

Usually when the world turns to hell, you –and Hop– are the voices of reason. Leading the group to safety, planning every move and hit. Following behind you was never a question of hesitation. Trusting your judgment was never an unpopular opinion –hell even Hopper took your word when he didn’t trust himself enough to lead; and that was saying a lot. Hopper is one hell of a stubborn brick. But that goes to say you were too. And if the odds don’t yield in your favor? If the tides don’t crash onto your shore?

 The sky would fall, Steve thinks. 

You always knew what you were doing. It’s fascinating. Even if you were in the wrong, things always go your way. Following behind you never came with a side of uncertainty. He never had to think twice when seeing your determined face.

But this time, it was the visible exhaustion evident on your face that faltered him. Steve being scared to follow you had him reeling in the fact that maybe, this argument wasn’t just a fluke. 

It’s been a few weeks since that night at the pool. You’ve been radio silent and unresponsive to all the calls and ‘CODE REDs’ that Steve's been sending you. As if you've gone off grid with Murray. The second you walked out Steve sprang to his feet and ran after you to fix things, hopefully to try and hash things out and understand what it was that was so wrong. But he stopped; Refrained. His hand lingered on the door knob contemplating whether following you was a good idea or not. 

It was always a good idea. Why is it so different now? Why is everything so different nowadays?

Perhaps it's because, deep down, he was scared of the idea that you would be angry with him for loving him. It terrified him greatly. Not because the idea of being with you was dreadful –but because he was aware that his query was really wishful thinking. The picture of you ever returning his longing was too expensive, one he could never afford or win. Steve assured himself deep in his bones that your love is the one thing he could never be deserving of. But what is he to do now? 

It’s been so frustrating, especially because he’d usually go to you in these sorts of cases. You always knew everything about everyone. He’d always tease you about being a little snitch, saying you were the one to spread rumors in school. You always argued back saying you weren’t a gossip; ‘Never the rat, always the dog’ you’d say. Loyal and reliable. That’s who you were.

But obviously you’re not very reliable right now. So Steve got ready and made his way to the second most reliable person he knows.

Dustin.

“You’re fucked.”

“Alright, Sherlock, thanks for the wisdom.”  Steve exhales sarcastically before leaning back into his chair.

“No seriously Steve, I've seen her blank people for the stupidest things. She’s not gonna talk to you for at least a month by the sound of it.” Dustine purses his lips and shrugs. 

Steve groans and closes his eyes. He knew that. He knew you were the most stubborn person he’s had the luxury of befriending. Always ignoring the people who would probably waste your time, laughing at all the guys who have tried –and failed– at asking you out. I mean for fucks sake he’s been one of the people to annoy you during school with Tommy and Carol. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a fond memory.

“I know man, I just…” He opens his eyes and looks down at the table.

Dustin furrows his brows when he sees how distraught Steve looks right now. He knew the both of you were close. If he and Steve weren’t together he’d probably find him with you. You always came by the store, picked him and Steve up and dropped them off, helped Steve with all his girl problems when Robin and him were fed up. It seemed like you could never get enough of each other. You guys couldn’t be more different though; the two of you, opposite sides of the same coin, but attached by a string.

But even then, he wasn’t as worried as Steve is right now when Lucas ignored him when he stole his limited edition copy of the Swamp Thing. And he and Lucas have years of friendship on the two of you.

“It’s just, I’ve never seen her so tired. Like I've inconvenienced her with all my shit,” Steve exhales deeply as he leans his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands down his face. “Fuck, I don’t blame her if she quits talking to me for good.”

Dustin looks at his friend in sympathy, “Don’t say that dude, you just gotta charm her, it’s not the end of the world-”

“Dustin she’s not like that, man! She’s not one to be ‘charmed’, definitely not one to forgive an asshole that's been nothing but a shit friend.” The hands on his face fall down on the wood as he crossed them. 

“I fucked up. Real bad.” He quaked.

He shakes his head, as if trying to wake himself up from a bad dream. Steve knows he’s being dramatic but he can’t help it. He’s never felt so deeply about a person before. You matter to him, more than most. You’re intimidating and beautiful and so far out of his sad reach.

It takes Dustin no less than 8 Mississippi’s to understand what’s really happening. He’s had an idea in the past and teased Steve about it. The whole group thought something was going on between the two of you but they never questioned it; last time they did they got an earful from you. But Dustin remembers the way Steve’s face fell at your loud and definite “No way!”

He scrutinizes Steve for a second longer before carefully choosing his words longer. “Steve…Are you really still in love with Nancy?” 

Steve raises his eyes and peers at his friend. Was he still in love with his ex-girlfriend? He inhales deeply. Steve thinks about the time spent between the two of you. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t laugh at your quick quips or the way you tease Mike. Not an hour passes by that he doesn’t think about where you are or what you’re doing. Not a minute or second that he doesn’t think about holding your hand and pulling you close. 

But he hates that, he hates the feeling of vulnerability. It's what got him dumped by Nancy so why cherish the feeling that broke him. And it isn’t like you were very mushy about your feelings either, preferring to keep them safe and close to you. 

But by God did he feel safe with you. You were never one to meddle about with feelings, always preferring to speak your mind no matter how controversial. You were honest –and vulgar– and so outspoken, always saying what others were too scared to. He wasn’t short of your honesty either –nor your kindness. He calls –you’ll be there in 10. He needs advice? You’re writing down a thesis paper about his problems. His parents are bothering him? 

Your door is open and unlocked, baking cookies with his favorite movie rented out, waiting to be played.

Steve opens your unlocked door slowly as he walks through the small foyer. Your house is small but warmly lit, giving it a feel he’s never felt anywhere before; Home. That’s the feeling. He calls out your name as he takes his shoes off. There’s a harmonic sound playing throughout the house; To Cut A Long Story Short by Spandau Ballet. This was the mixtape he gifted you. A smile pinches at his face at the revelation.

“In the kitchen!” He hears you call from the corner. Steve’s shoulders physically relax at the honeyed voice.

He walks in routine to where you reside in the kitchen, waiting on popcorn and rolling cookies onto a tray. “Hey, trouble.”

You turn your head at the greeting, a small smile already dancing on your lips. “Stevie.” You nod your head in acknowledgement at the boy.

“What’re you doing?”

Your head turns back to the concoction of dough in front of you. “Making cookies; You’re favorite, right?”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly at your answer. You’re baking? For him? Because he was upset about his parents? Has he had anyone do something so kind? That’s a stupid question, especially as your lovely character is right in front of him. His heart warms and picks up in rate at the same time. It seems to do that a lot whenever he’s around you. 

“Yeah..” He pauses before releasing a chuckle. “You know, you’re not as tough as you look right?”

You scoff, keeping your eyes trained at the ball rolling in between your palms. “Shut it or it’ll be your head I shove into the oven.”

He laughs. After the return of his parents his face has been in a permanent scowl. But the second he’s in your area –around you– you’ve managed to flip his mood in an instance.

“Yes ma’am,” He walks to stand beside you, his back to the counter and his arms propped up behind him. “Need help?” 

The tray is half full with delicious smelling chocolate rounds. “No, it’s okay. You just sit there and look pretty.” You smirk in his direction.

“Hah, funny.” He jokes flatly.

The sound of the microwave timer rings just as you roll the last ball. “Would you get that?” You wipe your oily hands with a red kitchen rag. Steve gets up to open up the microwave. He’s hit with a wave of the salty smell of popcorn. He takes the hot bag out carefully and sets it down on the counter. His head looks around to find an empty bowl to pour the kernels into. 

After setting the tray full of soon-to-be cookies in the oven, you wish to start cleaning up. However your eyes find Steve bent down, assuming to find a bowl. Before you can go help him, he’s already on his way to stand up –before bumping his head on the edge of the counter. 

“Shit!” 

You snort before letting out a heavily mocking laugh. Steve looks at your standing form while he rubs the back of his head. “Anyone told you, you’re a sadist? Shit man.”

You giggle slightly before replying, “Once or twice, lost count.” You walk over to help him up, offering your hand out. “You hit it bad?” 

He takes your outstretched aid and climbs up. “Nah, winded me though.” His hand comes back up to rub at the spot.

“Let me check.” 

Steve watches as you step behind him. You run your fingers over the throbbing spot and massage his scalp. He completely misses the fact that you're touching his hair; No one’s allowed to touch his hair. Thank God you were behind him or you would’ve seen his face turning an embarrassing tomato red. The feeling of you behind him, chest pressed against his back while your soft, nimble fingers soothe the ache on his head has him feeling the butterflies in his stomach flaring up and tingling. His palms start to sweat from the nerves of your figure so close to him and wipes them on his jeans. Get a grip man!

“Still hurt?” Your voice speaks up behind him.

It takes a second for him to register that you’re asking him a question. “U-uh no- no, I’m okay.” He stutters out.

You spill a knowing smile. “Good.” You make your way to his line of sight again. “If you needed a bowl, you could’ve just asked.” You tease with a smirk and a quirk of your brows.

He clears his throat nervously as he watches you bend down to the left of where he was and grab a yellow bowl. “Here.” You hand it over to him. He raises his arm to take your outstretched arm. His fingers brush over yours delicately; it was electrifying. 

Your eyes flit over to his glued on you. The corners of his mouth turn up gently. “Thanks.” 

In that short moment the two of you shared, your breath was stolen. Sometimes you forget how truly handsome your friend is. And everytime you’re reminded, your heart stops. But not in an agonizing way; more like it realizes the force of feelings it’s up against. A tide so big you can’t swim your way up.

Your bodies stay still in front of each other, just staring at one another. A wave of realization washes over Steve quickly. Just for a quick second no longer –maybe because he had an idea of what exactly are the flames that envelope his body every time he’s near you, he’s just never entertained the idea. Liking you –scratch that– loving you? He’s just about throwin himself to a suicide mission. Just as the tide goes out, the insecurity settles in. 

But right now? With you looking at him with your glistening, starry eyes? As you bake his favorite dessert and take his mind off his shitty parents? He tries to amuse his scorching feelings.

Of course Steve wasn’t in love with Nancy. God why would he be when you were right there? 

He chuckles humorously, “No.” His eyes zone in on a scratch of paint on the wood. “But, there’s no way I'll hurt someone like her,” He whispers as if the mere act would stop his heart, “Someone as angelic as she is, would never soil her hands with someone like me.” He flies through the sentence, trying hard to not let the truth dig its claws further in. 

Dustin looks at his friend in sympathy. He’s unsure of what to do or say to lift up Steve’s spirits. But Steve was wrong. Stupid wrong. Dustin’s seen the way you look at Steve; Like he strung up the moon and hung every star individually. He’s seen the way you unconsciously move toward Steve when a situation grows uncomfortable. Or the way you always seem to know what Steve was feeling or thinking just with a glance. It made the group sick, really. Well, before they started dating and crushing. But what you and Steve have? It rivals the most ancient love stories; Songs that didn’t make sense before all of a sudden click with just a glance at the two of you; Romance novels written about the two of you and movies fail to show what it is truly that makes love so magical.

“Steve,” Dustin stops and looks down gloomily; Adding to the dramatic pause, “I’ve never met someone more brainless and thick-headed than you.” Steve’s head shoots up, his face offended and ready to defend himself. “What?-”

“I mean seriously, did you inhale some hair spray this morning? You’re more stupid than usual –and that’s saying a lot.” 

Steve’s brows continue to furrow in offense as the insults carry out. “Okay ditz, what’re you on about?-”

“She loves you, you idiot!”

Silence over takes the room like a bad plague. A ringing sound fills his ears as his widen eyes take in his friend. Before he lets out a laugh. Dustin’s determined face controls into one of confusion. “W-what are you laughing at?” Steve continues his heaved breaths. “Steve!”

“I’m sorry-” He wheezes. “I’m sorry but, aren't you supposed to be a genius?” He inhales deeply and regains himself. It was Dustin’s turn to be offended. 

“I’m freaking serious man! Anyone with eyes can see how much she loves you!” 

Steve rolls his eyes indecorously. “Cupid, listen-”

“No you listen!”

There's a moment of staggered silence before Dustin continues. “Holy shit do you ever shut up? Better yet– Do you ever stop and think twice before you speak? The whole reason you’re in this mess is because you’re a coward –a chicken; You talk all this big talk about getting all the ladies and scoring dates but, have you ever thought that the reason you’re going on these –stupid dates– is to distract yourself?” Dustin doesn’t give him half a second to reply- “No you didn’t, just like you don’t think before talking to the love of your life.” Dustin’s blazing because at this point he’s just spilling over words. He needs to end it, shove the knife a little deeper for the act to end. 

“She’s hurt Steve. You hurt her.” Steve stiffens at the confession. “So are you going to do something about it, or are you going to sit her brooding like a James Dean wannabe?”

Steve bites his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood as he contemplates his choices. He’s spent the better half of your friendship in agonizing longing, hoping –looking– for a sign. Anything that tells him or shows him that you might return the painful ache in his chest. Oh how he burned for you; ablaze with every touch and stare. But just as the oceans glisten, you somehow always smother the fire. He wonders what it means: the fact that you never let him destroy himself. It was different with everyone else. With Nancy he was practically left in smithereens; everyone else never bothered to tend to the fire. But you? You could always tell when he was about to boil over. Just on the verge of a major spill. You were healthy, and observant. Always managing his outbursts with careful and slow movements. Throwing water just as his temper tipped over the edge.

 He needs to be your water. He needs to be there for you, just like you’ve always done. Like you always do.

Steve slams his hands on the table in tenacity. The action startled Dustin as he looked at a new man in front of him. “I’m gonna do something about it-” 

Dustin stands up with the same amount of fervor and nods his head proudly. “Yeah, yeah!”

“I’m gonna fix this!” Steve pumps his hands excitedly by his side. Dustin copies Steve and slams his hands on the table. “Hell yeah, you are!” Dustin drums the table hysterically as if possessed with the spirit of John Bonham.

Steve whoops and yells running around the dining room. Dustin –just as excited– slaps his back whenever he passes. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna fix this– I’m going to tell her!” 

Dustin’s just about ready to start calling everyone he knows to celebrate. Shit he feels like his mom. Steve’s already by the door slipping on his shoes. “Go get your girl Steve!” He grins, his dimple showing. Steve turns around just as he’s about out the door, and sends a confident, full toothed smile back.

••••••

You were lounging around on your couch eating a bowl of cereal when you heard the sound of a knock on your door. You place the bowl down and make your way to the wooden slab. It’s been a few days since the constant calls and house visits from Steve stopped so you were hopeful that he didn’t pick up his new favorite hobby again. The weeks that followed the argument were quiet. You didn’t realize how much of your time was spent with Steve and the group. You assumed Steve told the rest of them about your vow to silence when Nancy and Robin showed up with bags of snacks and a rented out movie, talking about a ‘girls day’. You were hesitant at first. Yes they were your friends –but they were also Steves. Nancy, ever the empath noticed your predicament and reassured you they were on your side. You let them in reluctantly; quickly changing to gratefulness when you realized how much fun you were having. It quickly became a routine between the three of you. The two of them however kept this a secret for your sake and it added to the appreciation. You were all getting so close and it was nice. All your time being spent with Steve had you missing out on getting to really know who they were. Nancy even confided in you about her problems with Jonathan; the distance and indifference. You understood her and even tried helping her, it was lovely. And Robin was just a breath of fresh air, her jokes and childish attitude gives you space to not be so tough all the time. You even find yourself doubled over laughing at her ridiculous quips during your weekly watches. It was fun, having friends to take your mind off things.

You open your door assuming to see either girl but you’re met with a bent down flop of hair breathing heavily.

“Steve?” You questioned in slight worry. “You okay?”

Your name gets called out in a deep wheeze. He stands up right as he takes in a couple of deep breaths.

“Listen– I know that you’re mad –believe me I’ve had my fair share of people calling me a jackass– but I want to make it right.” He gazes at you desperately. “Please.”

You rip your eyes away from his face as you think about your choices. It’s been a long time since the argument, and to be completely honest you were kind of over it. Just as Nancy confined in you; You fessed up and revealed the true nature of your and Steve's fight. To say the least Nancy wasn't impressed, nor was she amused. You thought she was going to be mad –or even excited– but you were met with a lecture: “If you believe a word out of Steve's mouth; my judgment of you has got to change.” She joked. “We even have bets going on to see how long the two of you would last.”

You thought she was absurd, denying everything she said –even though it made sense– you would never tell her that though. But her words ring around in your head like little cartoon birds. ‘Give it a shot. Be vulnerable.’ She coaxed. If shit goes wrong you are so taking that Rumors CD.

You prodded your cheek with your tongue before replying. “Get in.”

He lets out a grateful huff of air, one he was holding in. “Thank you.” You widen up the open door and let the boy in. He looks odd with hands fiddling together, like a scolded child standing in your walkway. He hazily remembers the night he walked into your house for the impromptu movie night. He ignores the voice in his head that nags: ‘This might not work’.

“You want something to drink?” You speak monotonously.

He snaps out of his reverie. Now's not the time to freeze.

“Uh- yeah- yes please, water.” He follows you to the kitchen

The tension is palpable, and it’s making Steve awfully nervous. Your back is facing towards him as you open the faucet and let it run before placing a glass cup underneath the stream. The memory comes back again, fast. He tries to find the comfort he once felt the last time he stepped in your house. Somehow it never left.

You leave the sink with a cold cup of water in your hand. He takes it from your wet hands softly, taking extra precaution not to graze your fingers. Steve quietly mumbles your name as you wipe your damp hands on the same red rag. You rip your eyes away from the distraction and set them on Steve.

“I..How are you?” He gulps.

You take a deep breath before replying. “Fine. You?”

“Good, good.” He nods his head as he rubs his thumb across his bottom lip and chin. A habit he does when he’s nervous.

You wrap your arms around your body protectively in hopes of perhaps shielding you away from the inevitable conversation. “Cut to the chase Harrington.” You grunted exasperatedly.

“I know I know! I just...Need to find the right words. I don’t wanna mess this up.” He whispered the last part but still audible enough for you to hear him. You always do.

“Mess what up? It was just a silly argument-” You furrow your brows in confusion.

“No it wasn’t! Nothing about it was silly –nothing about us is silly!” He exclaimed. 

Your eyebrows fly to the top of your forehead. “Wha-”

He says your name in the same manner, “I’ve been an idiot. A complete and utter douchebag –but you know that so what's new.” He chuckles in a strangled tone, voice wobbly while he rubs his palms. You stood quiet as he took the microphone.

“The night at the pool wasn’t a mistake. It was everything I needed to open my eyes, to see how much of an idiot I’ve been. You…” Steve takes a second to gather his thoughts. To gather you into words. “Are everything. All the praying and wishing on stars to find someone who understood me. Who I can sit in silence with and it not feel excruciatingly uncomfortable. You’ve given me a home within a person.”

He’s staring into your eyes now with a feeling you can’t quite understand. But he strides gingerly towards your frame and unravels your arms, and holds your warm hands. You’re still observing him with very large eyes. 

He’s being vulnerable?

He says your name is such confidence, totally different to the little boy who was just standing in your walkway all fidgety. “I cannot imagine a life with you not being there to yell at all the stupid people, especially the ones who miraculously passed their driving test.” This steals a little giggle from your shocked state. Steve continues. “There’s so much more to this but,” He pauses and closes his eyes while he inhales deeply. “I am not in love with Nancy.” He says. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for the things I said. You were trying to help me –like always– and I was just being a dick. I’m so sorry.”

Hope fills your being and it’s suffocating, you question if you even like it. He’s speaking with such softness it equals the spring wind and with incredible certainty it rivals the most stubborn aristocrats. 

“Huh, isn’t that something.” You choke up. Steve questions if he heard you. He did. He always does when it comes to you.

“Yeah it is.” he replies with a small smile and a pull with his interlocked hands, bringing you closer. 

“You’ve been my calm in this shit storm and I’ve been an idiot to not realize that the only person I ever needed,” He stops for what you believe is for dramatic effect, “Was you. It's always been you. So in some way I was hoping to maybe be the calm in your life.” 

Steve releases a shy grin and squeezes your hands in his lengthy ones before finishing his profession. He says your name one last time before- “I am an idiot. And that’s been proven to be true more times than we can count on our fingers. But I think the time that solidified it was when I tried convincing myself that I didn’t love you.”

You think your eyes are about to bulge out their sockets at the confession. He…loved you?

“Me?”

He gives you a knowing look. “I’m sorry, do you have a secret twin I don’t know about? Is this some shitty sequel to The Parent Trap?”

“Steve.”

“Sorry sorry.”

It’s taking a lot from you to swallow this huge pill. You’ve spent this whole time convincing yourself that he didn’t love you. That he couldn’t ever fathom thinking about you in a romantic sense. Now here he is, standing in front of you with his cheeky smile and bright eyes, telling you he loves you. You start to blink excessively, feeling the tsunami of tears advancing fast. God you hate crying, but maybe you’ll allow it this time. If Steve was an idiot, you better expect a simpleton of the year award in the mail soon. You feel the blobs of tears in front of your orbs as they start to fall down one by one.

This obviously panics Steve, you would rather stick forks in your eyes than cry. 

“Oh my god, shit, was it something I said? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to throw all of this at your face.” Steve is running around your kitchen to find tissues or a towel before he promptly kicks the table and drops the glass of water. “Shit! Shit shit shit!”

Tears forgotten when you start laughing jovially at the scene. You wipe your cheeks with knuckles as you breathe sharply.

“Steve.” You call out to his erratic form.

“I’m so sorry angel, this is a mess, I’ll fix it and then leave-”

“Steve.”

“I will buy you a whole new cup –scratch that– I’ll buy you whole brand new kitchen set-”

“Steve!”

He stops the run around the kitchen and stares at you and sees the teary smile you’re beautifully wearing. He gulps, “Yes?” He replies, still out of breath.

“I love you too.” You drag a finger furiously under your eye trying to stop the water works.

“Oh.” He croaks

“Yeah.”

“That’s, uh, that’s good, amazing actually, uh really great –hey stop doing that to your face.” He approaches you and draws your criminal hands away from your face in a caring manner. He replaces your angry fingers with his calloused ones, collecting your happy tears. You let him take care of you, caressing along the apples of your cheeks in content. 

Steve’s buzzing with overwhelming love for you. He ponders how he lasted so long lying to himself. He wonders how long he’s spent hurting you, trying to forget the absolute force of beauty and grace you are. You were there from the start, in front of him with all your anger and unconditional kindness –that he didn’t deserve– but you still chose to stay. And fuck if he messes this second chance? He can’t think of a way to thank the considerate hand that’s giving him this fortune.

He holds your glowing face in his nurturing hands and gazes into your starry eyes. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

You laugh delightfully and Steve thinks it’s the most wonderful music to his ears. “No. You’re lucky I even let you into my house.”

“Mhmm I am very lucky.” He teased cockily.

“You know you have a lot to make up for?” You say say woefully.

“All that wasted time and you think I haven’t started planning yet? Trouble, c’mon.” He tilts his head.

“Well, you are a little scatter-brained so.” You purse your lips.

“Hey!”

You shrug mockingly as his hands stay glued to your face. “It’s what you get for hurting me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be making it up to you until death grabs me by the throat.”

Steve can’t believe his eyes right now, you, standing in front of him, willing to forgive him. He’s sure he can die happy right now.

“Hey, I’m gonna try and do something, and you can stop me at any time –hit me, or slap me– I won’t even squeak.” His fingers travel to hold your jaw, thumbs close to your bottom lip. 

You nod inquisitively. “Alright, alright, we’ll crucify you if need be.”

His face is dull at your poor joke.

Steve lingers for a moment before he leisurely leans in close to your awaiting lips. First warning comes when the both of you are a breath away. “Everything okay?” He whispers.

“Mhm.”

The next comes when the tips of your noses are brushing against each other; a shy eskimo kiss. “Still okay?” In a timid manner you close your eyes. Steve admires how your lashes kiss your cheeks.

Your consent comes in the guise of an easy nod.

Then comes the time of the hour. Your lips were smooth and sweet, nothing like he could ever imagine in his wildest dreams. The kiss has both of your heart beats jumping around like monkeys. You feel like you’re gonna pass out; he’s so warm and his skin is stinging with shots of happiness. There were few times in your life you ever felt light headed, but this? This takes the cake. It feels like blowing out your birthday candles, and the after smell of the wax. It feels like summer, dipping your overheated head into the cold ocean, feeling your scalp chill. It feels like wiping soft buttercream off your lips and submerging your frosted finger into your mouth, tasting the sweet cream. It feels like everything

The both of you pull away for much needed oxygen –but in both of your opinions you could have gone without it– and just stare at each other. “You okay?” He wipes the wet off your lips.

“Fine.” You nod dumbly.

Steve gives you a small smile, fondness oozing out of his expressions. “Good.”

© berryfeilds 2024

Boycott S5 of Stranger Things → Cast Zionism + Other reasons and productions

Learn about Palestine → Resources + Ways to help + Other 1 + Other 2

#❆ i smell snow #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington self insert #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #Steve stranger things #steve stranger things fic

[warlordgab]

Short analysis: Absalom and his namesake

After seeing Oda revealing Kuma's past, I felt inspired to dig deeper into one biblical reference that many people take for granted...

Back in Thriller Bark, we're introduced to one of Gecko Moria's henchmen: Absalom

Due to the other biblical references found in the story, the name chosen for this character is pretty unlikely to be a coincidence. But, who was Absalom?

He was the third son of King David. He was a pretty cunning guy who tried to overthrown the King to take the throne for himself. During his rebellion, what was his point of no return?

He forced himself on his father's concubines. To put it in other words, Absalom forced himself on the King's partner(s), which earned himself a death sentence going by the law of that time.

During his final battle against David's forces, Absalom meets his demise at the hands of the angriest general of the King's army

How is Absalom's life and death relevant to his One Piece's namesake?

Well, during the Thriller Bark arc, we have Absalom kidnapping and trying to force Nami into marrying him. Fighting and losing a battle against Sanji. And even using his dream of becoming the "Graveyard King" to convince her to stop resisting

So, we have a wannabe king trying to force himself on a companion of the future Pirate King, and suffering a humiliating defeat at the hands (or feet) of one of the angriest fighters at the "service" of a "true king"

Of course, it's not a one to one comparison, for example, Israel's Absalom didn't survive his battle, while One Piece's Absalom survived and escaped Thriller Bark.

However, if we take into consideration how Oda uses or references other literary works, the parallels found here might be all intentional. But, what does mean for LuNa? I can't tell...

However, what I can say is what we know so far: Oda could've gone a different way and have Absalom focusing on Robin. Instead, the author chose the woman that, by his own admission, has a "natural queen-ly-ness" to her

A 'Queen' that not only commands authority in the strawhat ship, but also acknowledged only one man as a future king...

Absalom tried to force himself on a 'queen' just to get a beating from a fighter of her "king." It feels poetic, if you ask me

#One Piece #Absalom #luffy x nami #LuNa #lunami #Short analysis #I'm back!!!

[notyourmajesty]

Alex and Henry's Texts: A Progression in Proximity

I've been thinking on and off about how the film chronicles subtle changes in Alex and Henry's bond in the time between the end of the "damage control" and the New Year's party, finally leading into the kiss. Not so much about the texts and calls themselves, which I already found adorable on my first watch. More on how Henry becomes more and more prominent, more and more visible and tangible, in Alex's thoughts each time they talk. More on how the film worked out the transitions for each sequence.

The early texts ("having a wank", "inbreeding", "we were ever so careful, dear") are featured prominently on the screen, no sound besides that of a text notification. You see cute, fun gifs, memes and the occasional (mpreg!) article link, but at this point they're just tiptoeing into this tentative friendship, and learning about each other.

Henry's texts start out as a mere part of Alex's day at this point; he reacts, texts him back and moves on with his day. And even that changes quite quickly - he's amused enough by Henry's "we were so careful" joke that he forgets where he is and laughs out loud in a classroom full of people.

The transition then moves onto voice. Not only do we see the texts on the screen, but this time we hear them in their own voices.

Boring Tie

We hear Henry heighten his voice a little when he says "grey is a colour, thank you". We hear Henry's amusement when he asks about Alex "pranking" him with campaign t-shirts.

The "boring tie" exchange also marks the first time we see Henry (not the image, but the person) during the texting exchange. He is static, unmoving, in the periphery of Alex's vision, disappearing as his security detail runs past the bench Henry is sitting on.

Henry may not be the center of attention in this sequence, but Alex is familiar enough, and comfortable enough that he can easily visualize Henry. The way he sits, the way he talks, the way he peruses a book.

We hear their voices overlap as they discuss favourite authors and books, while a classmate shows Alex a meme about their "bromance" (I have some ideas about those literary references in particular, but maybe I'll keep that for another post*).

Byron

You also have the "Byron" sequence, which is a continuation of the favourite authors one, and highlights a marked shift from the "Boring Tie" one. Boring Tie shows movement from Alex, with Henry sitting stationary, in one place, on the bench.

Byron has Henry moving around in Alex's space. Still at the periphery of Alex's vision, but ever-present and slowly taking up more and more space in his head.

(I'm not saying anything about the poet being Byron and the movie Nora and Alex are watching being "Some Like It Hot" right now. I'm still in the middle of my second read of the book and I want to note down all the references I saw there too. The dialogue "well, nobody's perfect!" from SLIH's last scene is currently ringing in my head).

Parenthesis

In a lot of ways the Parenthesis sequence is the perfect segue to the New Year's party, because it strongly implies a level of intimacy that was only hinted at in the previous texts (the book itself has Alex envision him and Henry as lying on the opposite sides of their own beds, like brackets, in this scene).

Henry first features in this sequence as a tinny, distant voice 3700 miles away, but his voice and his presence now comes so easily to him (with a butterfly transition!! Butterflies in the stomach anyone?) that it is almost as if he is in the room, comfortably settled in Alex's private space, so close that Alex can almost touch him. And they really do look like parantheses at the end of that scene!

Henry's presence is intimate and tangible (we even see the jaffa cakes he's snacking on while watching Bake Off), and his voice comes to Alex as if they were in the same room together.

Only when they playfully argue over who should cut the call first, does Henry's voice change back to the tinny quality of a voice over cellphone...reminding them both of the distance between them.

And that last, super-soft look Alex gives as he switches off the phone with a "goodnight"! My heart!!

--

In a lot of ways, I think that while Alex himself is clueless about his own feelings, it's pretty obvious to us, the viewer, the "rope" that is pulling him towards Henry is already making an appearance here.

* Henry's Book Recommendations:

Zadie Smith (probably her entire bibliography)

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

Alex's Book Recommendations:

Another Country by James Baldwin

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

(My (tentative) theory for now is that the books explore themes that are important to both of them and that get touched on in the movie. I know the book goes into more detail with literature and history, esp during the email exchanges, but I've only read the book twice)

#Youtube #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #alex x henry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox #henry george edward james hanover stuart fox #hrh prince dickhead #this sequence among others lives rent free in my head

[hypaalicious]

Unpopular opinion: YA isn’t meant for adults.

Not saying adults can’t read YA; adults can read whatever tf they want. But it’s a huge mistake of mainstream publishing to allow YA to absolutely crowd out swathes of other subgenres to the point where articles such as this one get written in full seriousness.

Awhile back, there were teens on Tiktok lamenting that they can’t find media for them anymore. There were a bunch of condescending people happily shitting on them saying things like, “Uh, YA exists? These teen-centered TV shows exist?? Why are y’all lying lololol so dumb” instead of actually listening to these kids explain what they mean. Cause wow, it don’t bother y’all that despite all this hyper visible allegedly teen-centered media NONE of it is hitting for them? Y’all don’t stop to ask yourself why that is?

It’s because YA has become a fill-in for mid-range and adult fiction over the years. I can’t tell you how many synopses I’ve read that have sounded boss asf but then they make the MC fifteen years old and I’m immediately like

And I wanna be clear, this wouldn’t be a problem if YA hadn’t oversaturated the literary field. On top of that, I do not see real teenhood reflected in these characters. They come off more like they’re written by middle aged adults projecting what they think teens are like through the lens of how they wish their own long-gone teen years went. So yeah, no wonder kids don’t feel connected to the media that’s labeled for them. Too many adult consumers are crowding that space tryna live vicariously through teen media, and since it’s adults that have the money more often than not, publishers cater YA to them rather than teens. That’s not okay, y’all.

Also, there is no reason whatsoever for some of these characters to be teens except to fit into a very narrow category set by publishers who just want a wide market to sell to. Example: when I was looking up comp titles for my manuscript, I came across a fantasy book centering a Black female character at a college discovering her hidden magical powers and a mystery hidden away at the college and was like “oh shit, this sounds dope!”

… then I read a snippet and for WHATEVER REASON, they made the MC sixteen. Sixteen years old, but going to college as an exception.

It was just so obviously done as a way to slate the book under the YA label but narratively it made NO SENSE. Just make your character 18 or older if they gonna be in college! Oh, that’s right, you can’t because YA rendered the New Adult genre obsolete so if you can’t make your characters 14-17 then it’s not likely publishers will work with you. 🫠

Another problem I have with the whole “YA is for adults too!” thing is the fact that this does not serve adult literacy levels. Mind you, they’re already abysmal in the US in particular. But it doesn’t help when the only thing adults are encouraged to consume for fun are books written at a 5th-6th grade reading level. They ain’t reading anything adult anymore, either in prose or depth of content. And why would they when publishers are only making an effort to market YA as the 10-in-one shampoo type option to everyone who ages out of kidlit?

Different categories for different age groups exist for a reason, and the erosion & blending of these categories hurts the literary field a lot. We need to go back to the days where you could find age appropriate media for every stage of your life and actually connect with it.

#I will absolutely stay on publishing’s neck for this idc idc #Make YA for Young Adults again! #publishing #authors #books #booklr

[sophaeros]

golden trunks theory but i've forgotten how to do literary analysis:

so i think much like a lot of tbhc golden trunks is about a juxtaposition between intimacy/desire and the facade u have to put up as a public figure

like the opening verse/chorus are so starkly plain in the mental image they describe. it's just a simple portrait of an intimate night falling asleep together, and theres a very secretive tone created by the words "whispered" "admit". so from the get go we know immediately that it's about "true love" → romantic connotations, and this true love is associated w the night ie secrecy

this is a stark contrast to the second verse and bridge but esp the bridge where he plainly says "in the daytime". usually the day and light are associated w truth and revealing things but here he uses the daytime to talk about "a fresh new pack of lies", in contrast to the nighttime's "true love". the fact that the bridge is about being a celebrity and contending with lying for the sake of public relations is made very clear w how he says "bendable figures" → public figures who just bend/conform to the narrative crafted by pr managers, and most obviously w the use of the word "publicise". in an interview w la times hes asked if he enjoys being a pop star (w all the pressure and attention that entails) and he says "i have very little basis for comparison. the band has been going on for a larger fraction of my lifetime than it hasn’t." so as a very private person even leaving conspiracy theories about sexuality aside hes obv familiar w trying to keep the details of his relationships out of the spotlight. + this idea of the nighttime being the time for truth has been used before in diwk so it's a consistent theme

lots of people say the song about politics bc of the second verse cuz they say it's about (eugh) donald trump but i feel like thats a very surface reading. it's very out of place to me for him to have this randomass political commentary in a love song that he never brings up ever again which is why i dont think it's actually political commentary (or well, not Just, the pitchfork interview shows that is Is aware of politics obv it's just not the Point) it's just another angle to illustrate the idea of a public facing facade. he states in an interview that he thought of the wwf, which has given us the very interesting concept of kayfabe: the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic. the public persona, like a wrestler w a dramatic theme song, is larger than life, rehearsed, beloved and famous, and also very much fake. 

this next part i said entirely as a joke making shit up while talking to my mutuals but then i was like wait maybe i was cooking. we're getting into more speculative rpf territory here but essentially i thought it was very interesting how he specifies that this is "the closest thing to a love song on this record", and also that the character it's centred around is one that he "made". many of his past love songs everyone knows are about his real actual love interests (eg shes thunderstorms was about alexa. alexa was a tv presenter) and now here's this song that is about simple, straightforward admittance of desire towards someone that doesnt exist. summed up in my og message to my mutuals, "hes singing to the amalgamation of his lovers an imaginary ideal to whom he can be simple and honest with in a way he can't quite bring himself to be in real life". i honestly feel like this gels well with the ultracheese's last two lines; a vague admission of guilt, of complicated feelings, vs capitulating to honesty and tiring of lying for the sake of pr ("i'm sure you've heard about enough"). + i find it interesting that golden trunks is that only tbhc song that has never been performed live

++ this idea of duplicity and lying has come up a lot in his discography but in tbhc specifically the bside anyways has the line "what a place for both the opposite sides / of my double life to finally collide"

and finally. the absolute funniest part of golden trunks.

Let me set the scene: sometime between Axl Rose getting braids (2002) and People Just Do Nothing jumping the shark (right now), those brothers in melodic yarns Turner and Kane, plus “another human being” – let’s call her “The Girl”, shall we, to save her poor mother’s heart condition? – are intertwined among the postcoital flotsam of an upmarket hotel room. “Hey, I’m glad you came,” Turner is alleged to have said, forever on the right side of etiquette and politeness in such matters. While Kane, in his sludgy Scouser lilt acknowledged, “Ah, thanks, man.” At which point Turner sat bolt upright in his sparkly gold briefs (unconfirmed) to stress who, in fact, his grateful aside was aimed at: “Not you, you wally. Her!”

sauces: - quotes curated by genius - la times - gq magazine / tumblr post

#my content #arctic monkeys #alex turner #arctic monkeys analysis #literally copy pasted this from my ramble to my irl i feel like i keep repeating myself but also not elaborating enough sorry 🥰🙏 #m just bored

[animentality]

Depression and ADHD took away my ability to enjoy novels a long time ago, when I was 18.

I used to be a big reader. Ever since I was a kid, I'd plow through hundreds of books a year, no joke, no hyperbole. I was raised by an older mom, who didn't let me watch TV or use the internet until I was about 12, so books were the thing I loved most, aside from games I could play on the Gameboy Advanced or the SP or the Nintendo DS.

But books I could read under the desk at school. Books I could smuggle more places. I always had a hyperactive imagination. It was like watching a movie or a tv show in my head. I was a child perpetually lost in day dreams and fantasies.

I could read anything at all. Romances, historical fiction, fantasy, science fiction, literary.

I snapped up just about any story I could get my hands on.

But then I became a teenager, and then I showed symptoms of depression.

And I still read books, but in lesser numbers.

I read less and less every year.

And then I went to college. And then things just got worse.

I stopped watching movies, which were something I used to adore. I couldn't, literally could not, watch TV shows. I couldn't muster enthusiasm for anything at all.

I played video games, but they didn't make me happy. They didn't stimulate my imagination or give me joy.

They were just something I could use to while away my time in between the agonizing bouts of loneliness and apathy.

If I didn't have them, I would just be lying in my bed, in the utter darkness, staring up at the ceiling, wishing there was something, anything at all, that I cared about.

So I got my BA and master's degree, and all the while, every day, I asked myself why I did anything at all. Why I was not happy.

Why I didn't care about anything.

Just about the only thing I cared about was the books I was writing, and even them, I felt this horrible notion that they were all I had, and yet, that was nothing. They were as empty as I was.

So anyway.

One day, I started researching bridges to throw myself off of.

And uh. Well. Not to go into any gory details, but there was one friend I had, a long distance internet friend, who got concerned and sent some of my more troubling messages to my mom.

Who then took me to a hospital. And anyway, that part actually isn't important. All that matters is that I got medicated.

And the world sort of turned itself over, and I could start over.

And then suddenly the world wasn't brighter, it wasn't happier, but I could feel things again.

I could have interests. I was interested in everything, the way I used to be.

And then I started to love movies again. and then I started to love TV shows again (Cocaine Bear and Severance come to mind first, not sure why, but that's irrelevant, I guess).

And finally, we come back...to novels.

So this year, I have been reading books. Great books. Some bad books.

And some wonderful.

And I just wanted...to talk about The Night Circus.

by Erin Morgenstern.

Because this book...was breathtakingly good. Like.

Like...I have been out of practice.

I have been reading some decent books. Books with great premises, but disappointing follow throw.

Some great books, but with predictable twists or rather tired prose. Books that I liked, but won't think about again.

And then I read Night Circus. And suddenly, I...I knew what it felt like. Again.

For the first time in maybe seven years, I suddenly remembered this feeling I used to have, as a child, hiding behind a bush during recess, and reading Redwall or Animorphs or Goosebumps.

I was almost giddy with the feeling, it was like stepping back in time.

Back to before I started hurting, and even before I started feeling nothing at all, and everything felt so bright. So filled with lively colors.

I was vibrating, I was so emotional, I was so invested.

I literally was about to go to bed at 2 am, a reasonable time, but the Night Circus picked up, and it was suddenly so imperative that I finish it right now. I could NOT tear myself away.

And I am close to tears.

Not just because the book was wonderful and sad.

Honestly, this is hilarious to me, but as much as I loved the book, I still found myself criticizing some of its makeup, specifically slow pacing and some of the meandering. There was also a somewhat anti climatic solution to a problem that I sort of wish had been explained sooner as a possibility.

But honestly, it doesn't matter at all! All that mattered was that it thrilled me! It fascinated me! It spoke to me directly and grabbed a hold of my heart.

It tore me away from what I was planning on doing and dragged me into its world, in its pages, and I was moved by the book!

It's so fucking hard to move me! Especially a novel.

Movies and TV shows can move me much easier, because there's something so very human about needing to see faces, hear voices, experience the raw emotions through a screen that captures it all.

But this novel....Night Circus...oh my god, I had not felt so powerfully fond of a story in a long time.

I finished it, and I thought, this was what it was like, being ten...and yet, at the same time, as familiar as it was, it was also something new.

This was rediscovering something beautiful and lovely and old and new. It was drudging up the past, while creating something worthwhile, in the present.

It was the good kind of hurt.

It'll stay with me forever.

I was so happy. I am so happy.

I never expected to love this book so much.

I honestly don't even care to call this a review. I almost don't even want to talk about the specifics of its plot or its world or anything.

I just wanted to talk about how wonderful it felt to be so immersed in anything again.

To fall into a book and never want to leave its pages, and to be jarred by reality, when you realize it's over.

I am so glad to be happy, after that long dull period where nothing mattered.

I am so happy to be here. I am so happy to be alive.

To watch a good movie, to see a good show, to write novels where good things happen, where love and despair and joy and misery all happen.

To read a spectacular book, late into the night.

If I die tomorrow, I will be most disappointed, but at least, I could experience the best things in life again.

At least, I remembered in the night before my passing, what it felt like to be inspired and shaken by the creation of another person, to be touched by art, that moves you and changes you irreversibly.

I want to read more.

I want to be alive for as long as I possibly can.

I want to see the world change and I want to live every day of my life and I want to watch every good movie and every good tv show, and I want to read hundreds of books again. I want to write thousands of books.

And I don't know how you, in particular, found me or this post, but I hope whoever you are, you're also doing things that you like.

I hope you find that story you need. or make the story you need.

I hope you remember this feeling, and experience this feeling for the first time.

Maybe Night Circus is your book, maybe it's not, but either way, I wish it upon all. Upon everyone.

Read, write, draw, watch, create.

Do it all, and then do none of it, and go the fuck to sleep.

#writing #writers on tumblr #the night circus #erin morgenstern #spilled ink #depression #adhd #reading #book recs #literature #aaghahaha #im gonna combust #i am drowning #good night all #this shall be buried in the dirt of 4 am

[melodrangea]

can we have nicknames soul eater girls calling their s/o? Pls

absolutely my dear anon

Soul Eater girls don't get NEARLY enough love!

i'm also so sorry requests are taking so long my loves, but I am back in the writing groove and will try to clear my inbox this weekend!

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What Soul Eater Girls call their S/O

Maka Albarn

-Maka is another character that I fell wouldn't really use many pet names until she's older, at least into her twenties

-but when she does use nicknames they're either very classy or short and easy

babe

-just something quick, she'll be in a rush out the door and just kiss you on the cheek saying goodbye

"bye babe, I have to go but I'll see you when I get home, love you!"

hon

-Maka's definitely relaxed, sitting by the couch in one of your sweaters and a thick blanket, famous chopping book in hand

-you'd hand her a cup of tea and cuddle up next to her

she's respond with a "thank you hon"

honey

-she'll usually only call you this when she feels guilty (normally about being gone long on missions) or when she knows you've had a tough day

"how are you doing honey? __ said you weren't feeling well" :(

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa

THIS girlie on the other hand would absoluetly adore giving you pet names

n/n

-fairly self explanatory but usually in front of people she doesn't know she'll call you by a short (cuter) version of your name

-you're just her adorable little s/o and you WILL be addressed accordingly

love

-used just as casually as anything else she'll ever say to you

-which never fails to make you extremely flustered in certain situations

"which movie did we leave off on love?"

beautiful

-this one is used more intimately

-a special occasion or something else, whatever she's doing she'll just turn to you and stare into your eyes

"I love you so much beautiful"

Liz Thompson

this cocky bitch (I'm lying I love her sm)

cutie

will probably be flirting with you or just trying to fluster you in general

"hey cutie you feel like going out sometime?" (you guys have been together for months too)

babe

again YOUR NAME DOES NOT EXIST

babe is essentially Liz's every other word talking to you

"babe are we still going out later? I still have to do my nails"

baby

calls you this when she's being more serious

"baby be careful, I don't want you getting hurt." "I love you too baby." "It'll be okay baby, just breathe."

Patty Thomspon

-I'm not gonna lie to y'all...

-pookie (pookie bear)

-she can and would, and ya'll know she would

"hey pookie! Are you ready yet???"

-like miss girl PATIENCE

scardey cat

-Patty gets into some crazy stuff because she just feels no fear

-so you being a normal person (no Patty we don't want to go into the haunted amusement park that's falling apart)

"c'monnn don't be a scardey cat, I'm sure the ghosts are friendly!" (cue Liz running away screaming)

n/n

-only normal thing Patty will ever call you

-would probably add 'chan' to the end of your name or nickname

-I love Patty but she's like a middle school boy hyped up on kool-aid with a recorder I'M SORRY

Marie

honey-bun

-it's only cute when she says it and she can and will call you honey-bun whenever she pleases!

"aw thank you honey-bun, I love you too!"

-you are her honey-bun now, just accept it

sweetheart

-makes you two sound like an old married couple and you love it

-you two will be cooking together and she'll ask you to hand her something

"do you mind passing me the olive oil sweetheart?"

dear/dearest

-y'all are the definition of an old married couple i'm sobbing

-she'll offhandedly tell you how much she loves you while calling you dearest

"I love you so much dearest, you truly mean so much to me"

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

I love these four sm I swear

but anyways that's all for now my dears!

I'm here for your literary entertainment, I respond to requests as quickly as I can

-Melodrangea <3

#black star x reader #kilik rung #kilik x reader #soul eater #soul x reader #stein x reader #soul eater x reader #dtk #death the kid x reader #crona x reader #maka albarn #maka x reader #tsubaki x reader #tsubaki nakatsukasa #liz and patty #liz thompson #patty thompson #black star #soul evans #marie soul eater #marie x reader #soul eater evans

[foolishlovers]

hi, i’m going through it with uni right now (finals season rip) and was wondering if you have any recs for some really soft, tender fics that will remind me of the good in the world 😭 maybe with some soft smut too, preferably over 20k if they’re out there and i’m happy with non au or au whatever. just need something comforting yknow. hope you’re doing well :)

oh hello love, i feel your struggle and am sending you lots of strength!!

here are some of my favourite softer good omens fics:

[You can request more fic recs here.]

Caramel Delight by AJ_Constantine (E, 16k) After years of enduring hellish neighbours, Crowley is delighted when they finally move out, and even more delighted when their replacement is easy going, friendly, doesn’t leave his bins on the kerb for weeks, and… attractive in a way that causes a fluttering in Crowley’s midsection like a battalion of butterflies attempting to form ranks. Crowley knows that hooking up with the person who lives next door to him is a Bad Idea. But a jar of his Nan’s famous caramel sauce as a ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ gesture couldn’t hurt. And what’s he supposed to do when Aziraphale continues to show up at Crowley’s door with an irresistible smile, asking for more?

Liquid Gold by smolalienbee, Tarek_giverofcookies, Sodium_Azide, fashioncriminal (T, 36k) Goth beekeeper Crowley starts a new life in the countryside, in a suitably gothic house, with suitably goth furniture, tombstones, and bees. One day Crowley finds a surprise singing to the bees. And Crowley's suitably goth life changes. A gentle cottagecore human AU, featuring a bit of a bastard, a bit of a soft touch, and many many bees.

First Class (Hons) Christmas, University of Tadfield. by heloluv (M, 41k) Dr. A.Z. Fell is a renowned literature tutor at the prestigious University of Tadfield. December is upon the University, and Dr. Fell is leading the Christmas Charity Drive. He needs volunteers. Dr. A.J. Crowley is a skilled plant ecologist who recently began his tenure at UoT. He can't stand Christmas, and nothing at all could ever possibly convince him to partake in "festivities". Until a certain literary expert catches his eye. A Christmas and New Years fic, in which Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year. Lavender Apiary Of Your Honey Eyes by snek_of_eden (E, 62k) The first thing Aziraphale registered was fiery red hair matted with sweat. The second thing was the man’s face, sharp and intelligent and a little guarded, sunlight dappling a spray of freckles. Upon seeing this, two contradictory thoughts crossed his mind: ‘Gosh, he’s pretty’, and ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a man use that many expletives in the space of a minute’. “Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Hello, then.” When Aziraphale inherits a small, cosy cottage in the countryside, he finds unexpected company in a gardener he didn't even know he had. Crowley is sweet, and strange, and about as foul-mouthed as you can get. Before he knows it, he's falling pretty goddamn hard for a man whose friendship he's terrified of risking. Ah, the foils of love. (To the surprise of no one, they're both pining extraordinarily hard for each other)

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E, 70k, WIP) Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

you know i'll never be lonely (you're my only one) by SylWritesStuff, ladydragona (E, 256k) Anthony Crowley has long since given up on love of the romantic sort. Besides, after the tragic passing of his cousin and her husband he now has a preteen pup to care for. If only the courts and social services would quit assuming a single, unclaimed omega isn't competent enough on his own to raise one, things would be going just fine. Warlock's problems at school aside. Aziraphale Fell is an accomplished author, bookshop owner, and does quite well, if he should say so himself. Love might have conveniently passed him by and the nights can be quite lonely, but he'd rather be alone than not be himself. And the thing they're both longing for might just be each other.

[you can find more fic rec masterposts here]

#i know u said preferably over 20k but caramel delight is just too sweet (ha) not to mention here 💜 #i do have tons of more fluffy recs for fics under 20k :( #i feel like the longer fics get the higher the potential for angst gets u know #but i hope you'll maybe find some rest reading one of these 💜 #good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens human au #good omens fanfic #aziracrow #aziracrow fanfic #gomens fic #aziraphale x crowley #anon #answered #foolishlovers #foolish recs #go fic masterpost

[polaroidcats]

Breadcrumbs and broken families – a very scientific analysis of “Savour It (I’m Tasty)” by epicblueblanket

One of the most complex literary works of the 21st century is without a doubt “Savour It (I’m Tasty)” by epicblueblanket, also known by the pseudonym @kaaaaaaarf on the popular blogging website tumbler dot com. In less than 1000 words, the author manages to write a story that is not only captivating to any reader, it is also packed full of inspiring and deeply philosophical metaphors.

In this essay I will explore how the sausage rolls and breadcrumbs serve as a metapor for Sirius’s broken family, which might be one of the reasons why Remus feels so familiar to him even if they barely know each other - they're surrounded by broken pieces of something that should have been wonderful but has now been destroyed beyond recognition.

One of the most emotional moments of the story is at the beginning, when Sirius asks Remus if he eats sausage rolls when he is not at work, to which Remus replies with: "Well, I take home the leftovers at the end of my shift. It’s wasteful to throw it away, you know?", causing the following reaction from Sirius: “Sirius shakes himself. ‘Right, yes, of course—makes sense.’", obviously affected by the parallels between his own life – being thrown out and disregarded by his family as a teenager for reasons beyond his control – and the sausage rolls at Gregg’s being thrown out at the end of the day for health and safety reasons, no longer wanted or needed, through no fault of their own at all. The scene leaves the reader breathless with emotion, and it is impossible not to feel sympathy towards Sirius, as well as the sausage rolls at Gregg’s, who now both rely on Remus to help them fill the emptiness they feel from their respective rejections. And Remus seems more than willing to fill any sort of emptiness Sirius needs him to, acting as a very firm support system for Sirius, something he likely has been lacking up to that point, his life most likely as structured as a sausage roll that has been lying in the warm shop window of a bakery for a little bit too long.

Obviously affected and embarrassed by the sheer intimacy of sharing such an intense moment with his new lover, Sirius is quick to belittle himself (“I’m being stupid”) when Remus asks him if he wants to stop their sexual activities in the name of the sausage rolls. Remus is delighted by Sirius’s refusal to stop their activities, stating he has been looking forward to it since Sirius gave Remus his telephone number the previous morning. An interesting detail here is Sirius making the first step, not only in giving Remus his number but even before that, by coming into the shop and consuming “his own weight in vegan sausage rolls”, which not only shows his consideration for other living creatures, but also hints at possible future acceptance towards his difficult situation with his family. Through eating the sausage rolls - on a daily basis - he is helping them fulfill their destiny, something his family has failed to help him achieve. But Sirius’s selfless acts help the sausage rolls reach their goal of being eaten and not going to landfill, something Remus also seems very passionate about, so it is no wonder that the two of them seem like such a perfect match.

Sirius describes watching Remus eat Yum-Yums, and occasionally also sausage rolls, with so much passion, and it is not hard to imagine how this affects Sirius, who sees a piece of himself in every bit of pastry Remus consumes. While on a surface level Remus seems oblivious to the deeper meanings behind the sausage rolls and even misguidedly asks Sirius if it is some sort of sexual fetish, one can speculate that on a more subconscious level, Remus also knows about the healing power of eating sausage rolls in bed with one’s lover, allowing each other to create a mess of crumbly pastry pieces, and finding joy in the brokenness and vulnerability of it all.

Remus understands that not everything needs to be perfect or whole in order to be devoured, a philosophy he applies to sausage rolls as well as Sirius. The hopeful ending of the story sees Sirius enjoying a post-coital cigarette, Remus enjoying a post-coital sausage roll, both of them covered in sugar as well as pastry flakes, and Sirius starting to see Remus’s perspective through all the pastry flakes, feeling the healing powers of sausage roll consumption and sex.

#me?? committing to the bit?? more likely than you think! #k tag #just some ridiculous fake science for you #because apparently my idea of fun after a long day at work is wiritng fandom fake science posts heheh :D #savour it (I'm tasty) #also the way this is about the same length as the actual fic ahahahah