just a lot of love happening here

junipurplei  asked:

What do you think would have happened if it had been Garp and his marines to find Kei instead? Just wondering.

In all likelihood, a fight. At least here and now, if we swapped out the Kuja Pirates.

Even if Garp didn’t tend to greet his grandsons with the Fist of Love straight to the noggin, the Marines as a faction are (at least nominally) trying to kill absolutely everyone traveling with the main characters right now. There’s a lot of prison escapees, infamous pirates, and Revolutionaries in that group. All of them are kinda supposed to be “shoot on sight” for the Marines.

Kei and Isobu only know Garp as “Ace and Luffy’s grandpa who still left Ace in prison” and have both been primed to attack Marine vessels due to their experiences. And due to Saiken and Utakata’s experiences. And they’ll be backed by Matatabi and Yugito the whole way. And you can bet Garp the Fist/Hero wouldn’t take an attack on his men lying down. He’s one of the decent Marines we see in the story, and while there is little chance he’d actually hurt his grandsons meaningfully (or get in Luffy’s way much during the canon Marineford arc) most people on both sides don’t know that.


But if you’re referring to back at the beginning of the story, if Garp replaces the Whitebeard Pirates? That is another question entirely.

Kei would probably hang around at least for a little while, hiding Isobu to keep him from scaring people per usual. While it’s been a very long time since she’s met a faction calling themselves “the Marines,” she does have a moderate lingering respect for sailors. This respect would last approximately until she reached a place where the corruption in the organization bubbles to the surface. (Less of an issue for pirates, because no one expects them to be saints.)

At that point, she’d ditch them. Especially if they at all interfere with her mission of finding the Tailed Beasts and their partners. Given how almost half of the jinchuriki end up joining pirate crews (Utakata, Gaara, Kushina, and B) sticking with the Marines would be actively detrimental to her cause.

comuto-sama  asked:

Tag a quality blog, You’re it! Quality doesn’t means that you have a lot of followers, or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone (aka me) is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how many followers you have. ❤️ Send this to 15 blogs who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them ♡♡♡

Hello, sweetheart!

Thank you so much for the lovely message! It feels good to know that you appreciate what I’m doing here. :) I’m a big admirer of your artwork and very much like you as a person! I hope you’ll forgive me for taking so long to respond - I find it so hard to receive compliments! I hope your weekend is treating you well. :)

Originally posted by deeceetrash

3

Older Klance? older MARRIED klance (they are like 30ish and still in space)

Mashing up my favorite things: Lance being Allura’s diplomatic ambassador (@worlds-shortest-astronaut) , and in a nice committed relationship between them.

I love the Matt/Shiro BrOTP so have some headcanons that have been sitting in my drafts for weeks

-Matt is a living meme and Shiro questions their friendship every day

-“You know you love me~”

-Everyone questions how someone so calm and mature can be best friends with Matt and Matt kinda laughs in their face

-Matt: Calm? Mature? This guy almost fought a five-year-old over a chocolate bar!
Shiro: I really like the brand oKAY???

-Matt has tried to set Shiro up on one too many dates. It’s really easy since everyone and their mother has a crush on Shiro but Shiro needs Matt to stop.

-He did after a while until Shiro developed a crush on Allura. Cupid Matt was back. Shiro wanted to kill himself.

-Constantly making fun of each other because they love each other

-Shiro: Matt, if you don’t stop, I will literally sit on you.
Matt: Try me.
*high-pitched screams*

-You wouldn’t believe how often that happens. Spoil alert: A lot.

-They’re pretty competitive when it comes to each other. Whether it comes to bets or board games. Tears are shed. Friendships are broken. It gets pretty intense.

-Matt: I got to move on and be who I am! I just don’t belong here, I hope you understand! We might find our place in this world someday. But at least for now, I gotta find my own way…
Shiro: Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic over a pizza slice?

-Once Shiro ate the last brownie and Matt wouldn’t talk to him for a week. The dude really loves his food.

-Shiro: No.
Matt: This is homophobia at its finest. ://

-Once they had a convo on what their ship name would be if they dated, Shiro came up with Shatt, Matt disowned him

-Death jokes make up half of their friendship.

-Shiro: I’m going to propel myself off of this balcony.
-Matt: Not without me, you’re not.

let me help you fall in love with tanaka’s character (i’m gonna cut some parts from the first volume of the manga).

this is tanaka ryunosuke. he appears for the first time in the manga on vol 1 . he’s a second year and as you can see, he’s got that delinquent boy look going on. oh, and you’re gonna see that facial expression a lot, it’s his signature. it’s meant to intimidate people, but, no, just no, it’s hilarious af. 

guys, guys, guys, tanaka is a dork. we love dork characters, right?

he’s so simple minded. he’s just like bokuto. i’m dying.

whether you’ve watched the anime or you’re reading the manga, you probably know that the weird duo knocks off the vice principal wig, leading to daichi kicking them out of the gym. this scene is right before any of that happens. daichi is trying to talk to hinata and kageyama, but they’re just too absorbed in arguing that they do not hear him. tanaka is scolding them because daichi san is talking. he respects the third years a lot and wants the first years to respect them as well. we love respectful characters, right?

and here is the part where i start talking about how good of a senpai (and a person) tanaka is. this guy wakes up at 4 to let those two practice in the gym without daichi knowing (heh). this is obviously not the only time tanaka looks out for his kouhais. there are so many scenes in which you can see tanaka taking care of the kids. my favorite one? it’s probably the one from the OVA. if you still haven’t watched it, go watch it, because if you still think that tanaka’s nothing more than a funny gag, you’ll understand that you’re wrong. so wrong.

he is such a caring person. karasuno, his teammates mean so much to him. when hinata and kageyama don’t pass their exams, they need to re-do it, but in order to practice with the others in tokyo they need a ride. in the OVA you see tanaka asking his sister if she can do this favor for him, at first she tells him no because it’s an at least four hours drive, but then she sees her brother counting his savings. guys, guys, guys, here me out, tanaka’s willing to use his own money for hinata and kageyama. unfortunately he doesn’t have enough, but do you know what he does to provide a ride for them? he kneels in front of his sister and begs her. and he did not tell anyone how hard it was for him to provide a ride for hinata and kageyama. y’know, he deserves being called tanaka senpai by everyone everyday of his life, tanaka is the man

but this, this is probably what i like the most about him. this is just an example, okay? here we have tsukishima, telling them about kageyama’s nickname. tanaka has never liked people talking shit about others. look at his expression, he’s mad. he’s gonna scold tsukishima, but daichi stops him. this happens not a lot, but a shit amount of lots. tanaka is always ready to shut up people who belittle others. he steps up for kageyama, he is always there for hinata, he’s always ready to say “no, don’t say that you’re great” whenever someone is self depricating or he’s ready to fight whenever they talk shit of his friends. he’s such a good character, guys. 

(oh, and have i already told you how strong this person is? when oikawa’s targeting him he puts himself together. all by himself. most players wouldn’t be able to do that, they’d be so down because they’d made a lot of mistakes, but tanaka? not tanaka, bitch. tanaka is stronger than that. tanaka is better than that. tanaka slaps himself and receives that powerful serve.)

tanaka is in my top 5 favorite haikyuu characters and now you kinda know why. i think there’s so much more i need to say, but this post is getting too long. but please, give a little love to tanaka ryunosuke. call him tanaka senpai. he deserves it.

The Things We Give Welsh Learners: y Babi Sinsir

So I was going through our bookshelf yesterday, because we’re fast approaching the point where we need a clear-out, and I came across one of my all-time favourite creations ever, probably even beating shit like the wheel and penicillin. Years back, before leaving The Man to pursue his dreams of being a sort of professional clown-thing, my husband used to be a translator for Neath Port Talbot Council; as is often the way with Welsh councils, though, owing to a lack of money and also everywhere is really close to each other (this country is 150 miles wide at its widest point, and about 47 miles at the thin bit. Ver ver small), NPT Council’s translating department was shared by Swansea Council. Thus it was that, in the halcyon days of circa 2009, the two decided to team up and produce a new Welsh language book for learners between them, and thus it got sent through to Steffan to proof read it.

A Thing You May Not Know: Welsh is one of ten indigenous languages to Britain, arguably the oldest, and has been viciously oppressed over the last millennium and a half as part of England’s big If You Destroy Their Culture They’ll Be Glad To Be Ruled By You policy. These days, it’s nonetheless still spoken by approximately a fifth of the Welsh population; a hell of a feat, considering, but the suppression of it continues to this day (just in cleverer, sneakier ways now than whipping people’s children if they’re heard.) But it is classified as Endangered. Thanks to Welsh-language schools now being a thing (though supply is much lower than demand), transmission rates to the younger generation are pretty good; but, Welsh is peculiarly dependent on adult learners.

This means that learner books might have to appeal to both children and adults while using very simple language, which I explain in case it in some way justifies the bewildering weirdness of what I’m about to show you; because at first glance, this book is simply for children. But it’s… Well. 

Well.

I present to you, with translations in bold and commentary by me, Y Babi Sinsir.

Literally, “the Ginger Baby”, but they mean ‘ginger’ as in ‘gingerbread’. Literal ginger. Not the colour.

This is Mr Jones. This is Mrs Jones.

What’s wrong, Mrs Jones? I want a baby.

Note: there will be some confusion in this book about whether the narrator is speaking, or anyone else. It might seem cut and dried here, but there are no speech marks around “Dw i eisiau babi”, whereas later speech marks are used, and also in two pages’ time the narrator will actively pass a value judgement using first person, so… Well.

But, so far so good.

Mrs Jones is making a Babi Sinsir.

… okay, so I like this page because of the capitalisation of Babi Sinsir and the lack of definite article. She’s just making a Babi Sinsir. You know, a Babi Sinsir? Magical baby made of gingerbread that you make if you can’t conceive but can’t afford IVF? Yeah. A Babi Sinsir. That’s right.

Let it be known that this is Not A Thing in Welsh folklore or mythology. What the fuck. How does this work. Where does the magic come from? Do you need a faerie ingredient? Will the next page tell us?

This is the Babi Sinsir. I like the Babi Sinsir.

Nope.

But it is apparently shit-capable and needs a nappy. It’s good that the narrator likes it anyway.

The Babi Sinsir is bad. He’s running.

Uh oh.

“Come back, Babi Sinsir.”

Look how Worried the Joneses are. Funny how they don’t seem to be calling that enthusiastically, though. I’d have expected an exclamation mark at least. Did Mrs Jones always have a massive left arm? I can’t remember.

“Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Yeah, okay, so that’s the Welsh for “Run! Run! As fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”, but once again, I’m going to have to draw attention to the lack of expressive punctuation here. It really feels like this naughty Babi Sinsir’s heart is just not in this.

“Come and help, Mr Horse.” “Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Cool, look, a floating horse has come to help.

The pen there, incidentally, was an attempt by the translators to work out who was talking. I can’t imagine why. This dialogue is on fire, everyone can tell.

“Come and help, Mrs Cow.” “Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Now they have been joined in their high-speed zombie shuffle by a married floating cow who is, if I’m not much mistaken, high as shit.

“Come and help, Mr Goat.”  “Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

I’m starting to suspect the artist only knew how to draw the legs on animals in one way.

“Come and help, Mr Dog.”  “Run, run, Catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Yes, that dog is definitely here to ‘help’. Also… the Babi Sinsir is literally within reach of Mrs Jones’ massive left arm now. Why is she not just picking him up?

“Come and help, Miss Cat.” “Run, run, Catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

You may be wondering at this point if this is just… the whole book. An ever-increasing flock of floating zombie creatures shuffling after a naughty gingerbread baby in a nappy who is committing the cardinal sin of running. I mean… where can they go from here, amirite? A sheep? A squirrel? A chicken? We can hit a hundred pages this way, easy. The concern is the artist, whom I think was stretched a bit beyond their means on this project anyway.

BUT WORRY NOT! Shit’s about to go down, guys.

Oh no! Here comes Mr Wolf. Mr Wolf runs and catches the Babi Sinsir.

THAT IS A FOX

THAT IS A GODDAMN FOX YOU HEATHEN FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

AND WHY THE FUCK IS IT WEARING CLOTHES WHEN NONE OF THE OTHER ANIMALS WERE

WHY IS IT DRESSED IN DUNGAREES LIKE A LAZY FARMHAND ON AN AMERICAN RANCH IN THE 1800S

This doesn’t bode well for the -

Half of the Babi Sinsir is left.

WHAT THE

Quarter of the Babi Sinsir is left.

WHY DOES IT STILL LOOK SAD AND HORRIFIED WHY IS IT STILL ALIVE OH MY GOD

The Babi Sinsir has gone! There’s tasty.

What the

Wha

It

I realise this is not the main point to make here, but two pages ago it had eaten half of that nappy, and now it’s whole again and delicately discarded to one side, I just want

I mean

It’s okay, right? This happens in fairytales? Little Red Riding Hood? Someone will eviscerate the fox and out will come the Babi Sinsir…’s pieces, and they can be baked back together…?

No one cares!

Mrs Jones is making another Babi Sinsir.

The new Babi Sinsir loves Mrs Jones.

… 

…okay, so there’s a lot for us all to take in right now, and we’re all going to get through it at different speeds. But I’m just going to draw attention to the fact that Mr Jones is now merely depicted as a picture on the wall, and the new Babi Sinsir apparently only loves Mrs Jones, and…

Okay so they just lost their beloved baby gingerbread son because he got eaten alive by a fox in dungarees calling itself a wolf, right? Mrs Jones apparently couldn’t give less of a fuck if she tried, as long as she has some flour and ginger left over to make another. This one she made to love her.

Mr Jones, I presume, had a total mental breakdown and drank himself to death. At the very least, he’s left her, look. All she has left is the photo.

But does dim ots! Mae’r Babi Sinsir newydd yn caru Mrs Jones.

And that is the story of Y Babi Sinsir, aka the greatest work of literature ever written.

FANFICTIONS RECCOMENDATION

Ok so, I’ve spent all the easter festivities reading fanfiction, especially Yuri On Ice’s! ( ´ ♡ ` )

So I thought “What about giving credits to these AMAZING works of art and write a little recommendation post on tumblr?”


Because of the enormous amount of ff I decided to divide them in categories: the first part will be about 

OMEGAVERSE!

So if you doesn’t feel comfortable about mpreg, and AOB dynamics pass this post! And  always read the warnings before the ff (ι´Д`)ノ! Some of them will analyse sensitive theme that can offend or triggers someone!  

HERE WE ARE:

Originally posted by asparagusoup


All eyes on me by Kizuna_Auri  

(Ongoing) Vikuuri

Yuuri, under the username of Eros, is a size queen omega who most certainly does not have an obsession with fellow camboy and legendary silver-haired alpha Aria. Just like Phichit is not the most meddlesome roommate known to man.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) OK THIS FF IS AMAZING, I didn’t know I needed a CamBoy + AOB ff until I read it! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
There is a lot of Smut, really! But even a lot of feelings and cute dorks, they really are obscene and cute at the same time. Totally recommended!



Seventh Heaven (The Lion and the Eagle) by NinjaMatty

(Ongoing) Viktuuri

The war is over. Katsuki Yuuri just wants to go home and forget about it all. But his heroics brought him the unwanted attention of the Emperor of his nation. As a thanks for his bravery, he is gifted an Omega barbarian. He tries to be positive about it, but the present ends up being a poisoned gift indeed. Is keeping Viktor worth the trouble?

I LOVE IT. Really, this mixed a Royalty/war Au with the Omegaverse dynamics without be boring and repetitive!


Panta Rhei by Kashoku

(Ongoing) Viktuuri

This was a mistake. Viktor needed to somehow pry Yuuri off of him and leave the room immediately. Viktor was drunk, and Yuuri was so far beyond gone that there wasn’t even a word for it. But the alpha in Viktor was having an incredibly difficult time resisting the pungent scent of cherry blossoms and ocean that filled his nose. Viktor snapped.

They had been reckless.

Totally recommended! It’s full of Drama and cuteness at the same time!

Originally posted by thranduilings



You Can’t Plan for Everything by RivDeV

(Ongoing) Viktuuri

Yuuri forgets that he has a scheduled heat coming up until it’s just a couple weeks away. He scrambles to get everything ready in time, including deciding whether he’ll spend it alone or with someone. Victor only wants to help.


Ok this fanfiction doesn’t need to be recommended because EVERYONE knows it. And actually it’s one of my favourite at all!!



Shared Gravity by PhoenixWaller 

(Ongoing) Viktuuri

Yuri Katsuki doesn’t advertise his alpha status, in fact he’d rather it be relatively unknown. He feels that he’s never fit the stereotype, and is much happier blending into the background. However, much to his dismay, his alpha instincts are awakened one summer morning. 

At first he’s angry, believing that his new coach, Victor Nikiforov, has brought back an omega in heat for a day of passion. But when he intrudes to order the couple to a safer location he learns the truth. Victor, the most decorated male figure skater ever, has his own secret. From there an inexplicable gravity grows between them, their shared secrets pulling them together in ways that both learn to cherish.

Well this fanfiction is very particular and emotional! I’m really enjoying it.


Someday by Heyitsrah

(Almost Completed) Viktuuri / Otayuri


A now-retired Victor and Yuri suffer the loss of their first baby when Yuri miscarries, and when the time comes for them to try again, they learn that patience really is a virtue.


The best things in life do not come easily.


This is fuckin emotional guys, It’s just that is a very sensitive theme and it totally breaks my heart  

Originally posted by ffsillkms


My Sanctuary 

(Ongoing) Viktuuri


Omegas are rare… like super rare… Male omegas, even more so. Yuuri is one. How is he going to tell Victor? 

Love it… Oh, a lot of shit is going to happen here, embrace yourself!!! 


Not your usual love story by arcsinx

(Ongoing) Otayuri

Baranovskaya’s new face, Yuri Plisetsky (22), who shot in Venice for Vogue’s last edition, was seen accompanied by Otabek Altin (25) as they left a coffeeshop in St Petersburg yesterday. The DJ and voted 2017’s hottest musician, Altin was in the city to compose for Victor Nikiforov’s (30) new movie production. The couple met at the Paris Fashion Week after-party(image) and have been appointed to be secretly dating ever since. An intimate friend claims Altin to be completely besotted with the Russian beauty, having even gifted him a $35,000 diamond collar necklace!

For every Otayuri shippers, this is beautiful!

Originally posted by rirens


Not Alone by DazzledGhosts

(Ongoing) Viktuuri


Katsuki Yuuri has been training alongside Victor in St. Petersburg for a while. He has been so careful for no one to know that he’s an omega. But while skating one day, Victor notices something different. What’s that smell coming from Yuuri’s neck? Without realizing it, he finds a scent suppressant patch on Yuuri’s neck and curiosity wins the better of him. He tugs and is hit directly with that smell of cardamom and honeysuckle.

Victor’s never experienced a such a rut before. And all he knows is that he only wants Yuuri. Not because he’s an omega, but because Yuuri is…. well, is Yuuri. And the Russian refuses to hurt him. To the point where he will bite and hurt himself in the place of marking the other unwillingly. But of course the younger skater is unaware to Victor’s affections.

Unaware to the desperate need and love of Victor Nikiforov.

If you like how dynamics works, this is the fanfiction for you!!!


For now that’s all!

Originally posted by kinbari14

 I really enjoyed reading these ff and I want to share them with you all. These fanfictions update really fast and are really amazing! (≧ω≦)

Let me know if you have read them yet or if you’re going to enjoy them!

´ ▽ ` )ノ  Lia  

10

 ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ, ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. 

okay so i was having thoughts this morning about how i believe that obi-wan was probably t h e best master for anakin under the circumstances (and a few others) and how as much as i hate predestination, if you accept anakin as (one of?) the chosen one(s), then he is fated to bring about the fall of the Jedi - cos you can’t have balance when the lightside outnumbers the darkside by as much as it does. and i started thinking about how what if the universes where obi-wan is his master greatly delays him fucking off to the darkside and bringing about the end of the Order? well, he was all of 23 when that happened, which means in other universes, where obi-wan is not his master, he probably abandons the order much younger than that.

okay, so - an au where.

an au where qui-gon lives. despite reasons why it probably wouldn’t happen, he becomes anakin’s master, obi-wan fucks off to do Knight Things and Grow As His Own Person. anakin has his canonical crisis of faith and great realization that being a jedi is difficult and not actually all that he thought it was going to be. he fucks off from the order - say around the age of fifteen?

qui-gon, despite everything, goes off to hunt him. despite this “betrayal”. after all, anakin is the chosen one, right? so he even goes so far as to call in obi-wan to help him find anakin. meanwhile, anakin is employing every last trick in the book to remain out of reach. he won’t go back - he won’t. he can do more good out there in the galaxy, instead of tied down by the (hostile, tbh) jedi order.

it just so happens that obi-wan finds him. rather than try to arrest him or anything (leaving the order is not a ‘take into custody’ offense, as obi-wan well knows) and actually talks to anakin about the reasons why he’s fucked off. he finds the reasons understandable. besides, becoming a jedi is not being conscripted. anakin has the right to leave if he feels like it. obi-wan tells him that it’s fucking dangerous for a half-trained force sensitive out there in the wild galaxy, but when anakin doesn’t change his mind (because he’s hella stubborn tbh) obi-wan is just like “welp” and lets him go. he tells qui-gon he never found anakin, but that it’s really unreasonable to hunt the kid down for fucking off. it’s another thing that qui-gon and obi-wan don’t see eye-to-eye with.

so that’s that, right? they’ll never see the chosen one again.

but wait, there’s more. So of course the Sith find anakin. he must bring balance to the force. Dooku and Sidious play bad cop/good cop until anakin is firmly under Sidious’ thumb. (presumably, Qui-gon would have found nine hundred different ways to keep anakin away from palpatine, who might even have been the one to plant the idea of running off into anakin’s head on the few times when he was allowed to speak with the kid). anakin goes corrupt, as you do when siths are fucking with your head, and the story proceeds.

here it is, the fall of the jedi order, and order 66.

ymmv what happens to qui-gon. does he live through even this? or is he shot down protecting obi-wan? in either case, obi-wan survives as he tends to, trying to regroup with the rest of the surviving Jedi. of course, you have this wretched sith lord, Darth Vader, hunting them all down. his skill with a blade is unparalleled. no jedi who has faced him has survived.

when he finds them, obi-wan stays back, sacrificing himself to save the others. and yet, to his surprise, darth vader does not kill him. darth vader himself does not understand entirely why, only that once when he was very young, a jedi heard him out and let him go.

he does not let obi-wan go, but neither does his blade fall.

Alphabet Prompts

A: “Ah, the dangers of unrequited love.”

B: “Before you go. Please. Just talk to him one more time.”

C: “Can’t you see that I’m a little busy right now?”

D: “Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this! I might’ve been the bomb, but you were the kill-switch. You had to chance to stop me. But you were too weak to take it, weren’t you?”

E: “Even I have trouble understanding them, and I am-”
“Yes, yes, we know. Smartest AI on Earth, guide to the rich and wealthy. We get it by now.”

F: “Forget it. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

G: “Going somewhere?”
“Nowhere that concerns you.”

H: “Hell is already here, brother, and I’m the devil.”

I: “I didn’t know that this would happen.”

J: “Just- just don’t forget about me. Okay?”

K: “Kind kings have this strange tendency to come up dead, mi'lady.”
“Worried, are you?“

L: “Lots of love, your stalker.”

M: “Maybe I could’ve done something, flipped some switch-”

N: “Normal people are boring.”
“It’s easy to say that when you’re the normal one.”

O: “Our goal is to achieve our objective.”
“So everything’s still classified then.”

P: “Pretty people hide ugly secrets.”

Q: “Quick question though, how do we get in? Or is that not in your PowerPoint?”

R: “Really?”
“Really.”

S: “So much for rebellion.”
The screen in front of them blared, the president’s words loud and clear as he screamed about rebels, and revolutionaries, and how they were so called “terrorists.”
But their eyes watched something else entirely.
Their leader being whipped.
“So much for hope.”

T: “Titanium is easy to find compared to this.”

U: “Unfortunately, today is not that day.”
“Unfortunately for us, you mean. Not you.”

V: “Very nice, but the presentation leaves a lot to be desired.”
“I’ll try harder next time.”
“I bet you will.”

W: “What on Earth-”
“Off Earth would be more like it, general.”

X: “X-Men.”
“Okay I know you can’t speak English very well at the moment, but what?”

Y: “You have this very strange talent, name surname.”
“And what is that?”
She scowled. “You get in my way.”

Z: “Zombies would be better than this.”
“Anything would,” he agreed.

It’s Okay, I Hate Me Too. (Langst)

I posted this on AO3, but I decided to post it on here too because I love it so much ahah (also this is OOC)~

Being overlooked wasn’t a foreign feeling for Lance.

Back at the Garrison, he often heard a plethora of insults directed towards him, said by students and instructors alike. A lot of them from Iverson, the dude who oversaw the cadets. Man, he hated Iverson.

He happened to be strolling past a group of his peers. They were looking at him from the wall they were propped up against.

“Did you hear about that one guy Lance? He just failed his simulation test for the fifth time in a row.”

“Yeah, I did. The dude’s pathetic. How’d he even get accepted into the Garrison in the first place?”

“He only got into the fighter pilot class because Keith dropped out. I’m shocked Lance wasn’t the one to get dropped.”

“He can’t even handle the shit in the cargo pilot class. He’s pathetic.”

Lance just smiled. It’s okay, I hate me too.


“We’re going to have to visit the Worbla planet for some supply negotiations,”  Allura says, after shortly gathering all the paladins plus Coran for a meeting. “The Worblon are fairly nice aliens, so the negotiations should go fairly quickly. So be on your best behavior,” Her light tone disappears as her eyes land on Lance. The mood suddenly becomes more hostile. “Especially you, Lance. You stay in the back. I don’t want you messing this up.”

Lance lets out a nervous, breathy laugh. “Got it, princess.” Allura narrows her eyes even more. Great, she doesn’t trust me. I should’ve seen that coming, though.

The castle-ship lands on the planet. The Worblon gather around the paladins in awe, talking amongst themselves.

“Can you believe it?! It’s the paladins of Voltron!”

“Strong and mighty, strong and mighty.”

“Amazing!”

Allura gains a confident stature when the leader of the Worblon comes forward. They both go somewhere else to talk. Shiro and Keith have a private conversation. Pidge and Hunk had a ‘who can fit their fist into their mouth’ competition. Lance stood by himself until several aliens approached him.

“Excuse me,” The Worblon said, looking up at Lance. “Aren’t you the blue paladin of Voltron?”

Lance gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I am. I pilot one of the legs.” And I’m also the most overlooked member of Voltron…

“You’re not as uptight as the other members,” Another smiled. “I like that. You’re very lighthearted. I don’t think you get stressed in battle. The others are so serious, so scary. You’re, ah, cool.” Lance’s eyes lit up and he gave a genuine grin. This was the first compliment he’s ever received.

“Thank you.”

LANCE!” A voice screeched from behind him. He turned around and saw the fuming face of Allura stomping towards him. Her fists were balled up, and she had gritted teeth. The Worblon he talked to slowly backed away. Lance gulped. What did I do now?

“I specifically told you to stay in the back! What are you even doing?!” She yelled, and the other paladins looked at Lance. They all had the expression of “Jeez Lance, you already messed up?”.
“You’re messing things up again, aren’t you?!”

She turned towards the Worblon. “I apologize for whatever he did. He doesn’t seem to have any seriousness in his body.” The Worblon looked at her, confused.

“He didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, we were just complimenting him. You should be more like him, he’s very lighthearted compared to the serious faces of you guys.”

Allura just gave a forced smile and commanded all of the paladins to go back onto the castle-ship.


“Did you trick the Worblon or something?” Allura asked him later, during a meeting. “We all know the real you. You’re not the one to be complimented on.” Ouch.

“Yeah,” Pidge piped up. “You don’t take anything seriously. You don’t do well in battle either. What’s there to compliment?” The others laughed. Lance just bit his lip and exited the room. It’s okay, I hate me too.


Well, at least the Worblon were nice enough to compliment him.


Lance and the other paladins were currently in a battle with the Galra. Ships surrounded them.

“Pidge, use your invisibility cloak to get us close to the main ship. Keith and I will cover while you and Hunk shut down their ion cannons. Hopefully Pidge will get the information they need,” Shiro speaks from the com, but pauses. “Oh, and Lance, just don’t do anything stupid. We don’t need you goofing off and jeopardizing the mission.”

Lance sighed. “Got it.”

They all split up, each lion tackling their own problem. Lance just wandered around, carefully aiming the giant energy rifle on his lion to blast random Galra ships in his line of vision. He wanted to be careful, because if he fucked something up, then Shiro was going to scold and berate him while the other paladins looked at him with no pity.

Suddenly, the ion cannon blasted Blue, and she went spiraling off into space. Lance got dislodged from his seat and was hitting nearly every wall inside of Blue.

A weird-looking sheet of metal got lodged into Lance’s side. He screamed in pain, and he widened his eyes at the sight of the blood. Another piece of metal punctured Lance’s right eye. He saw a flash of blindingly bright light, and then darkness. He screamed his heart out, and then blacked.


When he woke up, he discovered that the inside of Blue looked like a crime scene. Blood was everywhere. He looked down at his armor to find out that it was damaged severely.

“You okay, Blue?” He rasped, and Blue responded with a purr. She was alright. “Good. ‘Cause I’m going to need you to fly us back to the castle-ship. She started moving.

He reached for his helmet and put it on, hoping to communicate with his teammates to signal that he strayed. Instead, he heard more slander.

“Lance screwed up again. “ Pidge.

“We clearly gave him instructions, how hard is it to follow them?” Keith.

“They were simple orders. I’m honestly kind of shocked.” Hunk.

“Don’t be. When he gets back, I’ll make sure to reprimand him for the trouble he’s caused.” Allura.

“I second that. He needs to learn to take things seriously. We’re saving the universe, this isn’t a board game.” Shiro.

Lance threw his helmet to the other side of the area. He felt tears coming out of his eyes, and he released a shaky breath. He tried his best to huddle into a ball. It’s okay, I hate me too.


Lance put Blue into her hangar and slowly limped into the halls of the castle. He was forced to perform an impromptu stitching on his side with a random first-aid kit he found because the wound was starting to become worse. His eye, however, was a different story. It was still bleeding, and the area around it was slightly swollen.

He heard the voices of his teammates coming from the meeting hall. Holding his side, he limped over to the door. He stopped when he heard the topic the teammates were talking about.

“Honestly, Lance is quite pathetic. He can’t hold off very well on his own, judging by his performance in this battle.”

“He didn’t get his beauty sleep,” A chorus of laughs echoed. “You know how terrible he gets without his beauty sleep. Or manicure, whatever.”

“He acts so much like a kid. How did his parents even deal with him? He’s in his late teens. I’m sure his family was glad when they heard the news of him moving out.”

“He’s a walking, talking disaster.”

Lance slowly opened the door and limped into the room. His teammates, Allura, and Coran gasped at the sight they saw. That was the first time he saw the look of sympathy directed towards him on their faces. He coughed, and blood splattered onto the floor. He gave a weak smile.

“It’s okay, I hate me too.”

Someone please talk to me about the fact that King Butterfly knows what it means for a princess to be evaluated, and that fact that Baby annoys him because she eats all of his food, and why does that sound familiar, oh yeah, because that’s exactly how Baby treated Marco.

It’s all too easy to imagine a young Moon Butterfly, nearly fifteen years old and dreading her first evaluation. She pours over her spellbook, determined to memorize everything, and frowns when Glossaryck says, “You’re not ready for that one” because Glossaryck is always so honest, even when his words cut deep.

“Has a princess ever failed her evaluation?” she asks. Her voice is steady, practiced, and proper, undaunted by disappointment or hardship.

“Yes,” Glossaryck replies. “And even if they hadn’t, who’s to say that you couldn’t be the first?”

She doesn’t blink at that, doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. She will, later, many years down the line, when Chauncey falls in battle and the whole world is crumbling apart, she’ll show Glossaryck just how deeply things affect her and just how hard she can cry, but for now there’s only one person she shares those things with, and he’s well outside the palace walls.

River is quite something to see in his youth, fearsome and fearless and strong. Most would say he has hair like sunlight but it’s always reminded Moon of the stars, shining yellow and bright alongside her namesake. He’s so different from her own family, so wild and loud; he says exactly what he’s thinking and doesn’t hide it behind guile and double-meanings, false smiles and polite words. He introduces the revolutionary concept that it is alright to express one’s emotions, to shout when one is angry, or declare one’s love in the middle of a tourney, because the princess has bested many monsters and he hopes to one day be as capable as she.

Moon doesn’t admit, at first, how nervous she is or how frightened, but River can tell. River’s learned to read the way she holds her hands, or the way her mouth thins out to silently reflect what she’s feeling, and he pulls her away from the rowdy, rude Johansen clan and wraps his arms around her.

In time, they return to the palace. River likes it here about as much as Moon likes the Johansen’s; he can see it from her point of view, appreciate it in a way, because it’s a symbol of Mewman tradition, steeped in ceremony and significance. These things are as vital and natural to Moon as breathing, but to River it will never quite feel like home.

They lock themselves in the kitchen and delight in roast boar and little pastries that River cannot name but also cannot stop eating. It’s here that Baby finds them, and here that Moon’s evaluation begins; Baby asks her to pass an apple from the counter and Moon hesitates, her hands folded, her mouth thin.

Suddenly, River picks up the apple and tosses it. It flies over Baby’s shoulder and splatters against the wall, and River laughs from deep inside his gut and cries, “Do I pass? Am I a princess?”

The corners of Moon’s mouth curve ever slightly upwards, and all at once her fear is gone, because no matter how poorly she does, it won’t be as bad as that.

5

Game over.

a lot of people (including me) headcanon gta caleb as a medic, and i love that, because then you get to imagine caleb getting called at all hours of the day and night with shenanigans like

“caleb! you need to get over here right now, it’s an emergency!”

“what? what happened?”

“i was arguing with gavin–”

“is he okay?”

“we need a medic. he just got burned!” [cue chorus of oooooohs in the background and a distant squawk of protest from gavin]

“jeremy it’s two in the morning and you’ve made this joke four times this week i’m going to stab you in the trachea with a scalpel i swear to god.”

Mor & Az

I know that a lot of people don’t ship these two or even see them as a ship (or didn’t when they first read ACOMAF) and I just… didn’t understand at first? But I think I’m starting to get it.

Mor & Az are not a typical “love at first sight, let’s get over some challenges and have tons of sex and then be together 5ever” kind of couple. They are much more subtle than that, but because of this, they are also much more realistic.

Mor & Az are glances at each other to make sure the other is ok. They are putting each other first, before anyone else. They are deep, steady devotion that lasts over time.

They have the potential for grand gestures (e.g. him saving her from the Autumn Court), but that is not required for them to love each other, or to show each other that they are in love.

They are not public - they are private. They don’t need to show everyone around them how they feel. It’s already apparent in the way they treat each other, look at each other. They don’t need to prove it to anyone else.

They are subtle gestures and daily acts of kindness that add up to a lifetime (or lifetimes, as it were) of caring, which is much more important than a flash in the pan of heat and sex marathons.

This is what a sustained, long-term relationship looks like. This is also why I said that I wouldn’t mind them having children at the end of ACOWAR. They are already familiar and comfortable and still devoted, after all these years.

Whether or not they have consummated their relationship or not is sort-of… beside the point. Because that is only one aspect, and (as Feyre found out with Tamlin), that can’t be the only thing holding a couple together. There is a lot more to relationships than sex, and that’s exactly what Mor & Az have, is all those other parts - a strong, devoted, loving relationship.

And (assuming nothing has happened between them before, which I sorta doubt) neither of them would let the other suffer from fruitless hope for a romantic relationship, given how much they care for each other. Mor wouldn’t let Az suffer if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings, and vice versa. So don’t come around here saying they are just very good friends bc he obviously loves her, and if there was no hope then she would have told him so. Because they hate seeing each other suffer.

BUT… I do think that there is a very good chance they have something going on, or have in the past. But that’s maybe another post.

Hello Cosmere Fandom, long no time no talk? 

Okay so none of you probably remember me cause I was only active in the fandom for a few months like, two years ago? Nearly three years? Well shit. ANYWAYS. Felt like dropping in to say hello, cause I remember you guys, and i know CFSBF and I miss it.

So recently my boyfriend started reading The Way of Kings, and it’s kind of the best thing ever. Because it’s my favorite book and I’m now rereading, for a seventh time cause I love it just that much. He’s been sending me little updates and I decided to screenshot them and share them with you for reasons. So, I guess the following pictures contain vagueish spoilers for Way of Kings? Gonna put the rest under a cut cause there’s a looot of them. 

.

.

.

Keep reading

Seven Things About Supernatural: 12x12 - “Stuck In The Middle (With You)”

Okay, I joked about how concerned I was about having to write Thirty-Five Things About Supernatural because of the multiple PoV action, but now that I’ve seen the ep?  Y’all, we’re all going to be writing about this for a decade.  There is no way I can say everything I have to say in one post.  Pressure = gone.  Let’s do this.

  1. Supernatural as a show excels at the Concept Episode – like, it’s literally a signature thing that the show does – but sweet cuppin’ cakes, this ep is on a par with some of the bigger things Robbie Thompson was doing before his departure.  Davy Perez and Richard Speight Jr. fucking knocked my socks off so hard I no longer have socks.  Some of that is the joyful lack of restraint in bringing the Tarantino cliches, but they’re also doing it with a solid, substantial bit of story that has implications up and down the timeline.  
  2. NEW LORE NEW LORE NEW LORE.  And it’s the good stuff, too.  The Princes of Hell are another Ancient Big Bad in the vein of Cain, but still recently active enough via Azazel that it’s not like, “HEY!  SURPRISE!”  

    Plus, great shock factor for the characters AND the audience when Ramiel’s eyes go yellow.  

    Ramiel, like Azazel, appears in the Book of Enoch as a fallen angel.  Dagon is mentioned in Biblical literature as a deity among the Philistines, and is attested as early as the Bronze age (for those of us Watching While Pagan).  Asmodeus has a long pedigree as a demonic force – he’s a baddie in the Book of Tobit, for example – and is the only one of the four to also be among the seven classic Crown Princes of Hell in the Sixteenth Century stuff, which seems to be a frequent aesthetic influence on SPN generally.

    This ep didn’t just leave the door open for Asmodeus and Dagon to join the party.  It handed them an engraved invitation with Kelly Kline and the Winchesters’ names on it.
  3. OKAY, BUT THE CROWLEY STUFF.  For an episode that I mostly failed to realize before air was a Crowley episode, there is a ton of character stuff happening with him here.  

    Gaining the crown, for example, more or less at the pleasure of the Princes?  It makes a lot of sense, and especially helps drive home how tenuous his position is.  It also clarifies a little how he came to a position that he does not love in its particulars, but clings to because the only thing worse than having it is not having it.  

    Which, given that Ramiel just got Winchestered on his watch, is a real possibility if Dagon and Asmodeus decide to get involved.  Which, given that Dagon is already interested in Kelly…well, there’s a reason Crowley wants the Colt back.  He broke the OTHER tool he’d need to do the job to save Cas. 

    (Cas who is “not a friend.”  Right, Crowley.  Yeah, there’s strategic value in keeping him around and the Winchesters happy/in your debt, but with two angry Princes, breaking Michael’s Lance is basically gambling with your life, and you don’t do that for someone you don’t have some attachment to.)

    We also see that he’s rebuilding his position in Hell, and is at least making some attempt to put right his humiliation at Lucifer’s hands by turning the tables.  Which, given that this is Lucifer we’re talking about…well, I have concerns.  Especially because Crowley’s luck rarely runs smooth. 
  4. But hey, Lucifer’s in a cage right now.  That’s good, right?  I mean, he’s probably not going to stay in there, because Lucifer is the dickest of dicks, and that whole Nephilim thing is going to come bite us all in the ass soon, but hey.  I’ll take it.
  5. So.  Mary.  Mary is in the process of learning (the hard way, and at great risk to herself and others) that Unilateral Choices Involving Secretive Deals With Douchebags is not the way to secure the greater good.  In fact, she’s sort of finding herself in Cas’ position from back in S6.  It’s a colossal breach of trust, which she struggles with in the final confrontation with Ramiel.  

    And, like Cas, she opts to press on in the belief that she can handle it, that her stab at this is going to be worth the hazard, that the ends are going to justify the means if she can hold out long enough.  
  6. So just in case anybody missed it: 

    A) Cas is family, both in Cas’ mind and on the Winchesters’ side.
    B) As in Sam and Dean won’t leave his side even though an Azazel-level baddie is getting ready to eject them from his barn.
    C) Mary even called him one of her boys.
    D) “I love you. I love all of you.” 

    Please excuse me while I weep openly. 
  7. Okay, but did any of us expect Wally to survive this episode?  Because honestly, the lineup here was like a classic Star Trek away team, with four Named and Knowns accompanied by That Other Poor Bastard Who Isn’t Coming Home™.  

    Like, I took one look at the promo shots and was like, “there is no prayer circle big enough to save this man.”

    Poor Wally.  

Bonus Thing:
I liked Mandy.  A lot.  She was snarky and she probably smelled delicious.  But I do have questions about why Cas didn’t spot her as a demon in the cafe.  I mean, I suppose it’s possible she’s not a meatsuit full-time, but it’s more usual for demons to stick around in the bodies they’ve claimed, and it makes a ton of sense for Crowley to have informants posted in the area around Ramiel’s farm so that he can help manage his end of the deal.  But yeah, if there’s a complaint to be made about this episode, this is mine.  Oh hey, never mind.  The demon I mistook for Mandy is actually Ronnie, who is played by an entirely different person. Mandy probably still smells delicious, and not at all like sulfur.  

Bonus Thing #2: 
OKAY BUT THE COLT.   THE COLT IS BACK.  THE COLT.  THE COLT THE COLT THE COLT.  So that’s neat.  Question, though: what’s with the lighting in the box?  Is the box illuminated?  Is the lighting diegetic (i.e. a real thing in the story world) or are we just having Pulp Fiction fun?  Time to tweet Davy Perez…  

Surprises (Part 2)

Originally posted by kylogue

A/N: I don’t love this but I said I’d do a part 2 so here it is, it went in a totally different direction than i thought it would but…well, I am a beacon of sin and it just happened, sue me. 

Part 1 / Part 3

Summary: Jughead needs a lot more sleep than hes getting, and you’re not about to let him avoid it. Hey, he might even enjoy it.

Word Count: 1,561

Warnings: None, I don’t think. It gets a tiny bit sexy but it’s definitely not smut. 

Keep reading

masturbate + mgc

(gif made by the lovely @punksos​ x)

> synopsis ~ best friend michael walks in on u masturbating, and well… u get what happens next
> word count ~ 3280
> requested? ~ no
requests are sent in here // masterlist


You kicked the duvet off yourself and pushed your hair away from your forehead, catching the mirror of the moon on the line of your wrist. It began with a little thought at 11PM – just a salacious bedtime story for you to fall asleep. You expected it to remain as such, until the thought swelled into something a lot more, swelled directly into the pit of your stomach, and between your thighs. It would’ve been an easy job done, any other day. It would’ve only taken you to shuffle off your pyjama bottoms and spread yourself across the mattress, but there was a problem. There was Michael.

Michael slept in the room beside you, probably fast asleep as the night shied into 3AM. You were caught up watching a film, and before you knew, it was too late for him to head home. The walls were paper thin, which meant he would probably hear every sound you make if you were to try and relieve yourself. Your stomach tightened its knot once you let the whisper of his image into your mind. He would be shirtless, as he slept – entwined in your bed sheets, bed sheets that you have slept in before. You hoped he knew – you hoped your scent was still on the pillow, and touched his naked chest and kissed his sleeping face. You knew yourself he wouldn’t think so profoundly about every little thing about you as you did him. He was the goddamn reason you couldn’t sleep – the secret you kept to yourself as you dreamed of him pressing his lips down in places he’d never seen of yours.

Staring up at the ceiling, you bite your lip, playing with the waistband of your pyjamas and snapping it against your hipbone. It was one swift movement, when you pulled them off your ankles and opened your legs up, leaving your cheeks flushed, your thighs smeared with your own wetness, and the air from the window cracked ajar erupting hairs across your lower half. You told yourself you wouldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t – it was too risky, having him less than five large strides away from your room. It was funny how you persisted to tell yourself not to, while your fingers teased down past your navel and between your thighs.

When your middle finger met your clit, your teeth met your bottom lip. It was already wet, from dragging up from your slit, and you sighed, reaching your arm beneath your pillow as you stretched into your own touch. Michael swept into your mind behind your closed eyes, how the softness of his voice could be lulling you into a state of daze. You released the tension you held over your clit and flicked the pad of your finger over the small bud, your riposte a buck of the hips and a strung out whine. Pushing your face into the pillow, you slid your finger across your slit, biting your lip and shutting your eyes as you curled a digit into yourself. Holding your breath, you thrust your finger in and out slowly, then picked up pace once you were wet enough to let you put another in if you wanted. A deep pump choked a thick moan out of you, and having moved your head from the pillow, it fell into you room – open, lewd, and shameless.

You didn’t bother to hide yourself, and the dream of Michael consumed you hard enough for you to nearly pull the sheets off your bed in your delight. Moving your finger out from inside you, a dull sense of pleasure blossomed into your stomach, and your eyes half-lidded opened to meet your bedroom door – now swung open completely in contrast to the small crack you left before – with Michael, standing with a thumb hanging out of the pocket in his sweatpants and an expression you couldn’t quite read in the darkness. Your cheeks felt hot, and you froze, brain not working quick enough to pull the duvet over your naked legs.

“Michael, what the fuck?” you finally said after a while, and he shook his head, reaching over and turning on the light. It sent your eyes out of focus, but you ripped the duvet of yourself and held it there. An eyebrow raised, an amused grin spread his lips. You couldn’t look him in the eye. That couldn’t have just happened. Oh, my God. “Don’t you knock? The door was closed!”

“I heard you saying my name.” He offered a one armed shrug, leaning against your doorway and gracing his gaze on you, unmoving. You kept your head turned, mostly so he couldn’t see the sweat shining over your warm face. He stepped into your room, and closed the door. “Now, you’ve woken me up.”

You closed your eyes, inhaled, and placed your hand on the crown of your forehead, trying to calm your breathing as much as you could. His voice was so soft. It was sleepy and gentle, words slurring over each other and clashing, although his gaze was wide and awake. He ambled over, and sat on the bed, right beside your legs, which were luckily hidden beneath the quilt. You tried making yourself feel better of the situation at hand. Everyone masturbates. It’s normal. Michael probably got walked in on by someone, too. Just, unfortunately, not you.

“Go to bed, Michael.” You leaned over to pick up your pyjama bottoms from the side of the bed, right beside where the bed dipped in favour of Michael. He touched your waist, and you were close enough to him to hear him release a deep breath once his fingers met your spine. Your hand trembled when it fell on top of your missing clothes, and you turned your face; his breath met your cheek. “Michael…”

“Y/N.” He moved closer, managing to wrap his arm around you, now. His nose bumped your cheek, and you closed your eyes, smelling the sleep and shower gel clinging to his skin. Your hand faltered by your pyjama bottoms, and you rested it somewhere nearby – which happened to be Michael’s thigh. You nearly moved it away, but he kept it there with his own hand. “Come on. I heard you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You had your finger all pressed up in your–”

“Michael,” you stopped him, but didn’t shift from his grip. “You can’t – don’t tease me like this.”

An airy laugh left his mouth. “You’re getting wet again, aren’t you?” The hand he had atop yours released, and he found your bare leg beneath the covers. It travelled to spread your knees, and you shivered under his cold hands. “I want to touch you, Y/N. I wanna make you feel better than you thought I could.”

You pursed your lips as his hand slid up your calf and touched the soft skin on your thigh. “Please. If you aren’t going to finish me off, don’t make me want you to.”

He laughed gently, the sound rumbling from his throat into a quiet breath. “Who said I wasn’t going to?”

When you turned your head, you kissed. It was impulsive. It was hot. Your hand moved up his neck and into his hair, like you knew your way around him perfectly without a second thought. His thumbs pushed your face up so he wouldn’t spend a single second not kissing you, and your mind was consumed with him. You remembered earlier in the evening, when it begun to rain, and the windows were covered in teary drops, how you sat so close to him, with your fingers barely touching, and neither of you daring to look away from the screen and at each other. It was an immature game you played, where you couldn’t admit to something as simple as a little crush, and now you were in your bed, spread across the mattress with the same boy holding you. Pushing the duvet away from the two of you, he shifted between your legs, parting from your mouth to peer down at your bare hips on his clothed.

“Jesus,” he whispered, and lifted up the hem of your shirt so he could run his fingers over the soft flesh of your stomach. Shivering, you inhaled, the scent of yourselves mixed together flooding you. His fingers, as usual, were cold, and pressed carefully and unfamiliarly across your body. His eyes flicked up to meet yours – green and dancing, rejoicing at the sight of you. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to be this close to you? Hmm?”

He slid both hands to the back of your thighs, and gripped you close to him, his mouth finding the column of your throat and embellishing it with wet kisses that made your head twirl. You sighed, whether out of delight or pure relief of having Michael here, you weren’t sure, and said, “too long.”

His lips met the flesh between your jaw and your throat, and you took in a sharp breath, your hand travelling up the muscles across his back and playing with the shirt covering them. Cupping your hips, you felt him smile against your skin, and you couldn’t help yourself from smiling, too. This is Michael, you reminded yourself, stretching your arms out across the mattress and closing your eyes, feeling him move away from your neck before capturing your mouth for a kiss once again. This is all you’ve wanted, and more. You didn’t need to tell yourself – you knew. He knew. It wasn’t much of a secret to either of you.

Carefully, he sat up, and you followed suit, your legs split between his hips. You both went to reach for the hem of his shirt at the same time, and when your gazes met, you let out a soft laugh, kneeling to tug it off his head. The backs of your fingers swept against his chest, and he bit his lip, pulling you in enough for your hands to grip his shoulders to keep balance. You watched each other, and everything was registering in your brain slowly, savouring every glance, every moment, every brush of skin between you. Your palms moved over his milky white chest, and you leaned back a little, enough to see the shy blush rising in his cheeks.

“Your hands feel nice,” he said gently, setting his own over yours. You stopped, but he pushed them down, letting you familiarise yourself with him, letting you map over the cities in his skin, the countries on his collarbones, and the stars in his eyes. You could hear the wind spreading the curtains apart, and your reached around his waist, nearing yourself to him. His fingers found your hair. “You’re so pretty, you know? The prettiest. You’re the prettiest.”

Smiling, you pulled back, tracing your finger along the waistband of his sweatpants. “You’re such a charmer.”

“Only for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t hide the heat spreading beneath your face. Lifting your shirt up, you threw it off the side of the bed, where it met Michael’s. Your breasts were bare, and met the cool air in your room between your chest and his. He kissed you one more time, laying you down with his fingers resting at the bottom of your back. Your legs wrapped around him, and he pecked across your collarbones, his lips hovering over your breast. His breath hardened your nipples, and you pushed his dark hair away from his forehead, regarding his eyes as you nodded at him, and he kissed over your chest gently. He made sure to be tentative, gouging your reaction with every move so he knew you were enjoying it. His lips were petal soft, and covered your nipples perfectly, slowly running down your stomach and onto your thighs. You pressed them together, not to block him, but to ease the tension between them. His palm slid beneath your hips, the other parting your legs between him. It was then you realised you were even wetter than ever.

He raised a smug eyebrow at you, and you flushed. “So wet already?” he said.

Biting your lip, you didn’t break his gaze. “I was touching myself before, remember?”

“And whom were you thinking about?”

Your eyes shifted along his face, and you smiled coyly, your fingers meeting his on your hipbone. He still had his right hand resting on your inner thigh, now lying on his stomach with his mouth achingly close to your centre. His tongue travelled along your centre, and you bit harder down on your lip, taking a fistful of the bed sheets in your hand. He took your clit in your mouth, playing with it and pulling back once again. You exhaled, tangling your hand in his hair to pull him closer to you, but he resisted, adamant at going at his own pace, to tease and fulfil every fibre in you aching for him. His tongue swirled over your sex, and you felt his spit run down between your thighs and he tasted you.

Every moment of pressure he placed on your clit, your legs tried relaxing and pressing together, but he kept them open, his thumbs drawing circles on your skin. A knot blossomed into your stomach and you moaned, gritting your teeth and lifting your hips off the bed, attempting to grind onto his mouth. It was a futile effort, and you both knew that. He had full control over you, and you absolutely loved it. Tugging back, he licked your clit gently, and when you glanced down, his eyes were locked on yours, daring you to do something. Daring you to cum before he lets you do so. You hold your breath, keeping yourself back until he tells you you’re allowed to cum. It was an unspoken rule, but his stance and approach already let you know he wanted your orgasm to belong to him.

“Fuck, oh, Michael–” You failed saying his name coherently, and your mouth stuttered. “Mikey.”

He groaned against you, and your stomach tightened, along with your grip on the duvet. “That’s it, baby. You like it when I do this, don’t you?” He leaned in again, striping a long lick before sucking hard on your clit. Your heart picked up, and you reached your arms up, pressing your palms onto your forehead. He gazed up at you, moving away from your core with a content sigh and the lick of lips. “Fucking hell, princess. You taste so good. And you’re shaking.” He cradled your thigh in one hand. “Yeah? You liked it that much?”

You nodded, lacing the sheets between your fingers. Frustration welled up between your legs at being unable to cum, but when Michael started to slip off his sweatpants, you perked up. Despite your weak legs, you sat up, draping yourself over his crotch and looking up at him. His eyes were half lidded, his cock hard against his wrist. Taking your hand, he ran it over his shaft, and his breath hitched. You shared one more adoring look before you took it on yourself, touching his member and running your finger over the tip. He was warm, and rather obviously grew harder just in your grip, as you pumped your hand up and down. His hips bucked up, and a rumble of a moan spilled out of his mouth. You smiled, leaning down and running your tongue across his member, your lips landing on the bottom of his shaft as you sucked it. He gasped, and his hand went to the back of your head.

“Y/N, oh,” he mumbled underneath his breath. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You continued what you did, then trailed your lips to his tip once again, taking him in whole until his cock hit the back of your throat. He hummed pleasantly, pushing your hair from your face so he could watch you. It was never a secret he found you beautiful, but it was also something he would never care to admit. Nothing to throw off the balance of your friendship, although it was blatant everything was fuelled by tamed lust and longing looks. You bobbed your head up and popped your lips off him, and he hissed, his nails leaving crescents in your shoulders. When he tensed up, all the way from his stomach to his cock, you pulled away, licking your lips and propping yourself up on your arms. He throbbed, red at the tip, and a vein protruding over the side.

Something passed between you, and he rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone. “You want to do this?”

Your hand found his over your face, and you barely had to think twice. “Of course.”

It was a gentle exchange, and he lifted you up so you lay with your back pressed against your mattress, which was still warm from where Michael was before. Despite you being so unfamiliar with his body, and his with yours, when the space between your thighs filled up with him, it felt right. It felt like you knew what you were doing, and there was nothing new with what was happening. You both sighed once he entered you, and he kissed your neck ever so softly, adding to the swell in your heart. He began to thrust, and reached down to circle your clit with his middle finger. Back arching off the bed, you lost your hand in his hair, an overwhelming feeling of delight overtaking you.

“Mikey,” you whimpered in his ear, and he let out a long held groan, gripping your hips, and picking up his speed. A harsh burst of pleasure occurred in your lower stomach, and a sound rose out from your throat as his fingers linked with yours and pushed your hand beside your head. Your legs wrapped around his hips, willing him in deeper. “Y-you’re so thick, oh fuck.”

“Does it feel good?” he asked, not straying with his mouth too far from your skin. His kisses were light along your shoulder, then finally, on your mouth. “Because it feels so good for me.”

“Yes.” A surprising jolt shook your voice, and Michael slammed harder into you, his fingers tracing your ribcage. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He lifted your legs, grunting and pumping himself harder. You felt him hit your G-Spot and inclined off the bed, swearing until he stopped you with another thrust. You were a mess between the mattress and the duvet, half of the bed sheets drooping onto the floor beside your clothes, and nothing else flooding the room other than your shared moans. You held onto his shoulders, which flexed every time he moved deeper inside you.

“So deep,” you whispered. “I think I’m close.”

“Me too, baby.” He rubbed your clit faster. “With me, okay? Come on, sweetheart. You’ve got me so hard.”

He fucked you harder into the mattress, until a lurch of inexplicable euphoria threw you off, and you were meeting his chest with yours and whining for him to cum with you. He did, after a moment, and pulled out, lying beside you and moving his sweaty fringe from his forehead. You kept your eyes closed, unsure whether you would be able to meet his gaze without blushing. He turned around to face you, propping himself onto his elbow and coasted his lips across your cheek. He shifted so he could kiss your mouth, and without much more persuasion, you leaned in, and wrapped your arms around him.

“Stay here for the night,” you murmured.

Chuckling, he reciprocated. “I wasn’t planning on leaving, anyway.”