#(so you can filter this nonsense out if you need)

[carpe-mamilia]

Sorry @buttonhouseparty, I thought all your tags perfectly encapsulated what I thought when I first saw this post so I'm putting them here:

#hasn't it always been like this though? I feel like we've had this conversation ever since the beginning #obv I love the captain. but the fandom has always emphasised him heavily over other characters #even ben said that it surprised him how much the story resonated with fans #(alison is literally the main character and she gets less attention) #and since the start there's been the critique that the fandom never talks about anyone else #with the response always: well. you talk about other characters then. you create the content you want to see. #however the reasonable answer to that is #why bother to do that when you know other fans won't be interested + won't engage with it #I've always felt like: I absolutely hear that critique and I do understand the captain bias is annoying + potentially problematic #but people do fandom for fun and they're just going to focus on their fave #it puts me in the odd position of feeling like I'm 'contributing to the problem' whenever I reblog #and it makes me feel vaguely guilty for not enjoying the show in the right way

[...] #also I'm here as a comedy fan so I'm not very interested in doing deep dives on the characters' trauma #I like a bit of angst but I also like a compilation video of captain noises #I mean I'll reblog cap ship fanart #I love to see it and I like doing my part in sharing around other people's creative work #but I also adore a post discussing the idiots' writing and influences #but that's not what this fandom loves to do so I don't expect to see many posts like that

#AND I think many fans were deeply disappointed by the xmas finale and have wandered off to other things #the ppl who are still here are still enjoying shipping and sharing pics of ben looking hot #which is fine. that's a fun hobby! but I get that it's far from satisfactory for the whole ghosts community #anyway yeah. we've argued this one to death over the past five years and it just makes everyone fall out. I don't know what the answer is

controversial take but being a longtime ghosts fan over the past few months has just been watching the captain become increasingly more prevalent in tags and fan content to the point where almost no other character’s stories or personalities are explored and usually if they are, it’s in relation to the captain.

I’m gay, a lesbian, and the amount of fanbases I’ve seen fall to mostly straight women and become a whirlpool of one white, conventionally attractive gay man played by a straight man has been so disappointing. the captain is not the only character in ghosts. he is not the deepest or most tragic character in ghosts. it is a found family themed show. we, gay people, do not exist as tragic entertainment to be fetishised. the women in this show are rarely mentioned in comparison to the captain, Kitty had multiple scenes about her abusive sister, is implied to come from a horrific colonialist background and basically came out as asexual in season 5 and nobody talked about it, Mary died in a way that was so horrific they didn’t even show it on camera but havers had five minutes of screen time and he is everything now, apparently.

it’s to the point where you can’t escape it, no matter what tags related to the show you do or don’t follow. I’ve seen it before with the way the good omens fanbase changed from people who respected this incredible story criticising blind faith in religion with queer characters that inherently further that message into people calling them “uwu husbands” or whatever.

I’m not particularly angry, I’m just sad to see that the internet has turned into this again. I love the captain. I love ben, he’s a fantastic actor that I grew up admiring!!! but the captain is not the entire show and I think we need to think about why he takes up like. 85% of fan works.

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[slut4jeon]

I’ll wait for your love (jjk)

Pairing: babydaddy!jk x fm!reader

Sypnosis: co-parenting with Jungkook was easy until it wasn’t

“You cling to your papers and pens. Wait until you like me again. Wait for your love. Love, I'll wait for your love.”

Note: “We Can’t Be Friends” by Ariana Grande inspired me. This fic was also inspired by the original 1961 “The Parent Trap” for a certain scene.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, mentioned drinking, angst, unprotected sex, etc

Co-parenting with with Jungkook after your recent split needed better improvement in the future.

Since he worked in the early mornings he would take your daughter Eunbi to school. Passing by your house to pick her up. Such as today, when arriving to your home it wasn’t required for him to ring the doorbell or for you to get up and open the door for him.

You once lived together, there was a spare key kept underneath the welcome mat in front of your doorstep. He made way into your home seeing that you both were still asleep. Heading over to eunbi’s room to awaken the sleeping child up for school.

“Bug, it’s time to get up, you’ll be late for school.” awakening his child

“daddyyyy!”, the child excitingly mumbled as she awoke to see the presence of her father.

“Missed you bug, now go on now potty and brush your teeth while I go wake up mommy, m’kay?” Jungkook said while laying out eunbi’s clothes for today. It’s been snowing lately, so layers were needed.

“okay”, the child could only follow the instructions he father had given while rubbing her sleepy eyes.

Jungkook made way to your bedroom where he’d seen the sight of you softly in bed still in deep slumber. You looked so beautiful in tranquility. His gaze softened at your appearance.

The night of your split wasn’t expected. You had garnered up the courage to make apparent how you didn’t approve of him overworking. You understood as he was in the middle of forming his business meaning it required time. But you worked too, you had everything you’d wanted right with you. Til’ his absences led to rescheduled plans and no show dinners.

And that night he had returned late as usual you could no longer keep it to yourself. He had returned home clearly drunk and reeking of alcohol.

Jungkook had blabbered nonsense which led up to this coparenting arrangement. Blabbering some more while intoxicated, he had no filter in what he said which he sure was going to regret once sobered up. Like they always say ‘drunk thoughts are sober thoughts’.

He made you feel belittled as if you and your daughter were a burden to him, a nuisance. Almost as if his business was worth prioritizing more than his family.

“needed a break” or “get off my back” holding you little to no regard.

Jungkook could not live without you and once sober he realized the gravity of his mistake. There was no making amends to what he had caused.

Now you weren’t sure how long this punishment of pushing him away was going to last. Unsure, but just for as long as you deem suitable for the amount of unease he caused you that night.

You loved him equally as much but you kept it reserved unlike Jungkook. He demonstrated in many ways him making up of his actions and words. By always being there when calling upon him, bringing you takeout when you’re too lazy to cook something for dinner, bringing you pads and any other necessities to make your cramps lessen and ease away.

So when jungkook stared at you in adoration at your peaceful figure he felt his heart swell. He inches closer to you siting on the edge of your bedside while leaning forward to caress your hair.

“Sweetheart, it’s 6:47am eunbi’s almost ready she has yet to eat” he said in attempt at awaking you to fix your daughter’s breakfast like you normally do every mornings.

“Too tired…” you lightly mumbled as you turned in sleep and hugging the covers.

“Is that so? Too tired? I can take care of her breakfast sweetheart, you just stay in bed”, jungkook said as he fondly looked at you and landed a peck on your cheek.

As he stood up from the bed about to leave the room your hand met his wrist stopping him. “Jungkook, thank you”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart”, then he was off.

Jungkook had just arrived back home after work. Coming back to a silent home like every other day since your split.

The emptiness, the lights were off, the heater was off, it was disturbingly clean. He didn’t like to return home to this.

He had showered and rid himself of his usual suit and tie, about to prepare himself dinner til the sound of his phone ringing broke his focus.

It was strange to recieve a call as late as 8:40pm if it was not regarding eunbi, she slept at 8:00, so what could you have been calling him about?

“what’s up yn? Is there something wrong? Is Eunbi okay?” He voiced concerned

“No, there’s nothing wrong with eunbi, I actually let her stay with my parents today”

“Oh…” there was a moment of silence

“Hey Jungkook?” You said on your side of the call

“Mhm?” responding

“Could you come over? Please?”

He raced on over to your place then after.

Shutting the door to prevent the chilly air due to the snow enter your home, jungkook makes way.

The heater was on, it smelled of fall due to the scented candles you kept in certain places, the lights were on, family pictures hung on the walls, Eunbi’s toys scattered on the carpet. This was what home is. The nostalgia running back to him. Endearingly gazing upon the area, how he missed this sight.

Drastic difference of how life at his home was currently like.

“Hey sweetheart, it smells good in here. What ya’ making?” removing his padded jacket, scarf and gloves. Taking in the aroma of what you were currently cooking.

“Steak and roasted asparagus, sit down. Are you hungry?”

“I’m famished” jungkook truly was, upon your incoming phone call he had just gotten off work and hadn’t had the time to eat dinner yet.

“Sit yourself down then, I’ll set your plate”

He missed domestic moments like these. Overall any quality moments where it was just the two of you shutting out any thoughts of crossed boundaries.

“I’ll get us some glasses to drink our wine, give me a sec” you voiced

Jungkook’s eyes followed your figure as you had your back facing him stepping foot onto the stool, reaching for the wine glasses kept in the cupboard with tippy toes. He drank in your appearance, how angelic you looked in your simple slip dress and shawl. Even though you dressed comfortably for home you were indeed breathtaking.

Setting the glasses onto the dining table while jungkook popped the cork of the wine and poured the liquid into both glasses, with that the table was set.

Digging into the home cooked meal with wine Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at you in admiration. You catching onto his pupil enlarged stare made a questioning eye contact with him.

“oh yn, you’re so beautiful” puppy eyed jungkook muttered

Sarcastically scoffing at his compliment. You were never one for compliments, never knowing how to acknowledge them or return them.

“Oh please, jungkook” trying to steer away from the conversation knowing you’d get emotional, jungkook continued.

“I mean it yn…I know I don’t say things like you wanna hear them and I know I’ve acted like a complete asshole too but I have to get it off my chest when I say I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately…and us, and the way things used to be.”

You felt irritation in your eyes and lip quivering, your waterline beginning to dampen hearing Jungkook’s heartfelt statement.

Not wanting him to see you break down you turn your head away. Using your soft hair to your advantage hiding away your face.

Jungkook took note of your exterior breaking down, hearing your resisted sniffling, extending his hand reaching for yours.

“I miss it all, especially the silliest things” getting up from his seat heading over to your side where you remained seated, he crouched while placing his hand on your thigh.

Upon hearing that, curious you turned your head towards jungkook where he took in your rosy tinted wet cheeks by your fallen tears and glistening eyes.

“What silly things?”, curiously asking

“I miss your bra’s you’d leave hanging on the doorknob of the restroom, I miss how you’d store my tools with your sewing supplies together, I miss my razor being dull because you’d use it to shave your legs with, I don’t like having a closet all to myself, and y’know it’s no fun swearing because you’re not there to make believe you’re shocked by it.”

“Nothings any good with you yn, I miss a lot of things.”

Gathering the courage to speak you finally voiced out, “why’d you take so long to say these things Jungkook?”

“I guess it’s because I was kinda hoping you’d come back to me upon your own will, I know I messed it all up for us. I wanted it to be up to you to decide whether you’d forgive me. I was just scared that you’d get irritated by me and never want me again…” with that Jungkook began struggling to voice his words, eyes brimming with tears as well.

No words had to be exchanged. You knew with all certainty you could not live without this man.

Pulling him into a desperate kiss, connecting both lips together he hugged your smaller frame, “oh Jungkook, I can’t take this anymore”.

Wrapping his arms around your waist while having one hand then reach towards your nape to push both lips in closer proximity, “Then don’t, I want this as much as you do, sweetheart.”

Eagerly responding the intimate kiss jungkook could not grasp the reality of this, feeling that at any moment he’d awaken from a dream.

“mmhpm, fuck…missed this, missed you”

His lips trailed onto your neck. Smothering wet kisses and bruises all around. Your manicured hands trailed to his neck followed to his hair where you gripped the roots as he continued to abuse and litter purplish marks on your neck.

“mhff gguk…need you so bad”, you panted

“Need you just as bad, baby. Waited like a horny dog for this moment.”

“gguk?”

“Yea, baby?”

“Need your cock in me…”

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants.”

Leading Jungkook to your bedroom where you laid on your elbows to watch Jungkook as he undressed. Removing his hoodie head first then getting rid of his shirt after leaving you with a view of his sculpted upper body and a bitten lip.

From the athlete of sculpted greek god abs to the happy trail and waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs. Your eyes trailed over every tensed muscle to inked sleeve catching the tattoo he’d gotten of your initials in cursive many years ago.

You couldn’t resist the temptation the beef cake standing in front of you. Adoring his abs with wet kisses leading up to pecks where your wet muscle teased his nipple.

He couldn’t resist himself either. How you looked under him had the tip of his cock leaking of precum.

Your slip had been sliding off your shoulders. Dangerously almost exposing your full breasts to him. He’d noted how hardened your nipples were as they poked through the thin fabric.

“God, yn… I need to have you now.”

“What are you waiting for? Get to it then.”

He missed this bratty side of yours. The sharp tongue that’d always have you ass up on his lap.

“Keep doing that nd I’ll find other ways to use that mouth of yours.”

You had missed this side of jungkook just as much. His domineering aura had you coating your panties in wetness. He was naturally a softie at heart but when it came to tussling in the bedsheets he was somethjng different.

It’s been months since you last had dick. Whenever you were ovulating it been hard to suppress yourself whenever jungkook was present. He had made it hard especially cause for some damn reason he always looked good. That angered you more.

“Oh fuck! Gguk!” He had you on all fours as he thrusted balls deep into you at a relentless speed.

“S’ too good, baby. Fucking hell, cunt’s too tight. Been neglecting this pussy. Real clear it misses me.” Jungkook said in ragged pants.

Eyes remaining on the way his hips slammed against your plump ass, recoiling at the movement.

“Fuck ggukie, don’t stop…mhhff jus like that..” your head facing toward his direction. You looked like a goddess to him. The way he was taking you from behind to the way your face carried a pleasurable expression with frowned brows and strands of hair falling.

“Didn’t think of it, baby. Let go for me hun, coat this dick.”

“mm..yes! Oh fuck!” You yelped as he lifted your body against his sculpted chest. This angle creating more ecstasy to your arriving orgasm.

Face close proximity to yours where he hid his face in your neck lathering it in bruises. Inching closer to your ear lightly nibbling on the edge of your ear.

“Shit, baby… never get enough of you. Missed having you in my bed like this all for me.”

His words had you on the edge. Hips meeting his own in greed of chasing your high.

He felt your walls clenching upon his length. As well as his own high coming as well.

“Oh fuck.. where do you want me, hun?”

“Inside please, want it inside.” You were quick to respond.

Final thrust and both came in unison. Jungkook rode both highs out as he slowly thrusted. Sliding his now softened dick out of your cum filled cunt.

Arms now wrapping around your figure, both laying in each other’s embrace.

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you more.”

end

[not-terezi-pyrope]

Often when I post an AI-neutral or AI-positive take on an anti-AI post I get blocked, so I wanted to make my own post to share my thoughts on "Nightshade", the new adversarial data poisoning attack that the Glaze people have come out with.

I've read the paper and here are my takeaways:

Firstly, this is not necessarily or primarily a tool for artists to "coat" their images like Glaze; in fact, Nightshade works best when applied to sort of carefully selected "archetypal" images, ideally ones that were already generated using generative AI using a prompt for the generic concept to be attacked (which is what the authors did in their paper). Also, the image has to be explicitly paired with a specific text caption optimized to have the most impact, which would make it pretty annoying for individual artists to deploy.

While the intent of Nightshade is to have maximum impact with minimal data poisoning, in order to attack a large model there would have to be many thousands of samples in the training data. Obviously if you have a webpage that you created specifically to host a massive gallery poisoned images, that can be fairly easily blacklisted, so you'd have to have a lot of patience and resources in order to hide these enough so they proliferate into the training datasets of major models.

The main use case for this as suggested by the authors is to protect specific copyrights. The example they use is that of Disney specifically releasing a lot of poisoned images of Mickey Mouse to prevent people generating art of him. As a large company like Disney would be more likely to have the resources to seed Nightshade images at scale, this sounds like the most plausible large scale use case for me, even if web artists could crowdsource some sort of similar generic campaign.

Either way, the optimal use case of "large organization repeatedly using generative AI models to create images, then running through another resource heavy AI model to corrupt them, then hiding them on the open web, to protect specific concepts and copyrights" doesn't sound like the big win for freedom of expression that people are going to pretend it is. This is the case for a lot of discussion around AI and I wish people would stop flagwaving for corporate copyright protections, but whatever.

The panic about AI resource use in terms of power/water is mostly bunk (AI training is done once per large model, and in terms of industrial production processes, using a single airliner flight's worth of carbon output for an industrial model that can then be used indefinitely to do useful work seems like a small fry in comparison to all the other nonsense that humanity wastes power on). However, given that deploying this at scale would be a huge compute sink, it's ironic to see anti-AI activists for that is a talking point hyping this up so much.

In terms of actual attack effectiveness; like Glaze, this once again relies on analysis of the feature space of current public models such as Stable Diffusion. This means that effectiveness is reduced on other models with differing architectures and training sets. However, also like Glaze, it looks like the overall "world feature space" that generative models fit to is generalisable enough that this attack will work across models.

That means that if this does get deployed at scale, it could definitely fuck with a lot of current systems. That said, once again, it'd likely have a bigger effect on indie and open source generation projects than the massive corporate monoliths who are probably working to secure proprietary data sets, like I believe Adobe Firefly did. I don't like how these attacks concentrate the power up.

The generalisation of the attack doesn't mean that this can't be defended against, but it does mean that you'd likely need to invest in bespoke measures; e.g. specifically training a detector on a large dataset of Nightshade poison in order to filter them out, spending more time and labour curating your input dataset, or designing radically different architectures that don't produce a comparably similar virtual feature space. I.e. the effect of this being used at scale wouldn't eliminate "AI art", but it could potentially cause a headache for people all around and limit accessibility for hobbyists (although presumably curated datasets would trickle down eventually).

All in all a bit of a dick move that will make things harder for people in general, but I suppose that's the point, and what people who want to deploy this at scale are aiming for. I suppose with public data scraping that sort of thing is fair game I guess.

Additionally, since making my first reply I've had a look at their website:

Used responsibly, Nightshade can help deter model trainers who disregard copyrights, opt-out lists, and do-not-scrape/robots.txt directives. It does not rely on the kindness of model trainers, but instead associates a small incremental price on each piece of data scraped and trained without authorization. Nightshade's goal is not to break models, but to increase the cost of training on unlicensed data, such that licensing images from their creators becomes a viable alternative.

Once again we see that the intended impact of Nightshade is not to eliminate generative AI but to make it infeasible for models to be created and trained by without a corporate money-bag to pay licensing fees for guaranteed clean data. I generally feel that this focuses power upwards and is overall a bad move. If anything, this sort of model, where only large corporations can create and control AI tools, will do nothing to help counter the economic displacement without worker protection that is the real issue with AI systems deployment, but will exacerbate the problem of the benefits of those systems being more constrained to said large corporations.

Kinda sucks how that gets pushed through by lying to small artists about the importance of copyright law for their own small-scale works (ignoring the fact that processing derived metadata from web images is pretty damn clearly a fair use application).

[andypantsx3]

Andy I just had a thought.. Shouto kabedon.. i’m very sane about this

Omg I loooveeeeeeeee this omg!!!!!!! You are a genius!!!!!!! This ask unlocked something inside of my brain; this is barely coherent and unedited but I offer you this heartfelt nonsense in return.

contents: shouto x reader, sfw, implied fem reader, aged-up characters, 1.7k

You tried to ignore it when you first heard Mineta say it.

"Trust me, the babes love it," he'd lisped to his doubtful audience—Kaminari, a befuddled-looking Kirishima, and Shouto, whose face was so impassive you'd actually been under the impression he wasn't listening.

The former members of UA's graduating class of 2X74 were stuffed into Kaminari's new apartment for a party. It was mostly the heroics department, but you'd spotted a few of your fellow general course graduates as you'd passed through the kitchen to grab a drink. You'd come out into the living room to see Mina and Jirou—as well as pretend like you weren't ogling your long-time crush Shouto—but you found you were immediately regretting leaving the safety of that kitchen.

"And you've... done it?" Kirishima asked, eyebrows scrunched.

Mineta made a show of inspecting his fingernails like it was nothing to him—which you seriously doubted. "Trust me, women like assertiveness. This move is plastered all over their romance manga."

You took another sip from your drink. You wanted to pretend like you weren't hearing this, but Mina and Jirou were making it hard, Jirou stone-faced next to you and Mina unsuccessfully trying to filter her gleeful laughter into her own drink.

"Do you think women even know it's a kabedon, if he does it?" she asked, leaning in to whisper.

Jirou looked doubtful.

"He's like, waist height," you whispered back, sighing. "I don't even know if his arm would reach the wall either...?"

"I think it probably looks like he's just trying to hold himself up," Mina said, her grin unholy.

"I pity the woman he's attempted it on," Jirou said drily.

"—you're sure?" Kaminari was saying when you turned back to the boys' conversation, also looking doubtful.

"One hundred percent success rate," Mineta insisted, eyebrows wiggling.

Despite yourself, your eyes slid over to Shouto, like they almost always did, wandering over that handsomely thoughtful expression. It was the thing you liked the most about him—how his angelically beautiful visage was at stark odds with how awkward and kind of strange he was; how he looked like an ice prince but was one of the warmest, kindest people you'd ever spoken to.

You'd been paired for a couple assignments back in school, hung out on the periphery of his Class A friend groups, and had ended up teaching him a fair few things about how to cook and do laundry when he'd asked. He'd even rescued you during one of the many attacks that made up your time at UA together—which was really when your crush hit you full-force.

He'd been so gentle with you, carrying you out of harm's way when your injured leg had crumpled beneath you, and the careful way he'd handled you had been so at variance with the raw, roiling power he'd wielded on the battlefield—the tidal waves of ice that swept up the villains, the towering wall of fire that mercilessly choked off any of their escape points.

You thought Shouto was one of the most gentle, well-mannered men on earth.

He would probably never kabedon someone. He would never need to—people fell all over themselves for him.

"The babes fall right into your arms," Mineta said, raising his voice to encompass the knot of girls stuffed together on the loveseat. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

"I'm going to get another drink, the image of Mineta trying to kabedon me needs to be wiped from my brain," you told the girls, flinging yourself over Mina's legs in your haste to escape.

The kitchen was a welcome reprieve, and you dug around in Kaminari's fridge for another can, letting the cool air wash over you. You studiously ignored that all Kaminari seemed to have in his fridge was a pile of moldering grapes and some mayo.

Can acquired, you briefly considered not going back out into the living room and abandoning Mina and Jirou to their fate. But the pull of Shouto was too strong, and with a sigh you resigned yourself to more of Mineta's lechery.

In the hallway, however, you stumbled into the man himself, coming towards you from the opposite direction. You were struck momentarily dumb by the way the breadth of his shoulders seemed to take up almost the entire span of the hall, the way his fading summer tan looked against the light-blue of his button up. He was so handsome even when he was just walking, it was so deeply unfair.

"Hi Shouto," you said, raising your can in a salute, hoping your voice sounded normal. "Careful in Kaminari's fridge, he's culturing something on his grapes."

Shouto blinked down at you, those beautiful mismatched eyes growing a little wider. "Y/N," he greeted you, though there was a note of something strange in his voice, like there was something weird about you that he hadn't expected.

You wondered if you'd spilled something on yourself like a child, and decided to detour to the bathroom on your way back. How embarrassing.

You gave him a rueful grin, stuffing yourself against the wall so you wouldn't accidentally bump a strong shoulder as you passed, swearing vengeance on your drink if it had betrayed you in this moment—

Except, suddenly there was a hand against the wall in front of you, blocking your passage down the hall. You startled, whipping back around to stare at Shouto, only to find him looming way closer than you had anticipated.

Your back bumped the wall as he crowded you in, his other arm coming up to press against the wall on your other side, caging you inside his reach.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with the sight of him this close—that straight, blade-thin nose, that full, pouty mouth—the light touch of some expensive cologne at his collarpoints—that it took you a second to catch up with what was going on.

Your mouth dropped open when you registered that Todoroki Shouto had just—kabedoned you?—was actively kabedonning you? what the literal fuck—in the middle of Kaminari's hallway.

"Shouto? What—?" you managed, your voice strangled. The air felt like it was resisting you, refusing to be drawn into your lungs.

Shouto's voice was low and intimate as he answered, sending a mortifyingly visible shiver right down your spine. "Is it working?"

You gaped at him, eyes flickering over his serious expression. "Is—what—?"

Shouto shifted even closer, so that his face was a scant two inches from yours. You were suddenly, horrifyingly aware of how close his mouth was, how tall and strong and warm he was over you.

"Do you plan to fall into my arms?" Shouto asked. "Mineta said women liked it."

It was a fight for your life to make the connection over the static in your brain, the lack of oxygen in the air. Mineta had said women would fall for you if you kabedonned them... Shouto was.... kabedonning you.... computation pending...

"You... want it to work?" you asked, words clipped. You felt like any stray movement and your mouth would brush his, and you didn't know if he wanted—it was too strange to think that he might—

"Yes," Shouto replied, his handsome face serious. Those heterochromatic eyes searched over you, trailing over your features like a warm touch. "I want it to. Am I... not doing it correctly?"

Your face heated, and an entire conservatory of butterflies took flight in your stomach. You could not believe what was going on right now.

"No you're—you're doing it right."

Shouto's face was even closer, then, his mouth a whisper away from yours. "Then you have fallen for me," he said, sounding like both a question and a conclusion. He looked like he didn't know what to do next.

You had to suppress a laugh, charmed and mystified and nervous all at once. He was so reliably strange—of course he had taken Mineta's assertions at face value. And he was so straightforward, of course he had implemented the advice straight away. He was so silly, you liked him so, so much.

"I... have," you said, a helpless smile creeping over your lips. "Although it was a while before the kabedon, to be honest."

Shouto blinked, and you could just barely see his mouth grow a little slack in surprise. "Oh," he said, a hint of a shy smile touching his mouth. "Good."

"Yeah. Good," you said, your own grin going wider.

Shouto's eyes dipped down to your mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered. A thrill of anticipation went down your spine, your knees suddenly liquefying, as Shouto leaned back in, and your own eyes fluttered closed.

The press of his mouth was hot and soft—perfect, like you'd always fantasized it would be. He shifted closer, so that he pressed against you, and you had to tilt your head back to accommodate how tall he was, reveling in the strength and the heat of him over you. One of his hands left the wall to thread into your hair as he kissed you, cradling the back of your head like you were something precious, and your stomach swooped in response.

He kissed you boneless, absolutely stupid against the wall of Kaminari's hallway, and it was all your could do to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. You didn't know how long it was that the two of you stood there, wrapped up in one other. All you knew was you never wanted Shouto's mouth to leave yours again, never wanted to leave the circle of his embrace.

So of course an appreciative whistle broke the two of you apart. You tore your mouth away from Shouto's only to find Mineta standing at the end of the hall, grinning like a wolf. A tiny, lecherous little wolf.

"Nice one, Tododoki," he said, like you weren't even there.

You bristled, stiffening in Shouto's arms as you glanced back at him quickly to measure his response. But the dazed look on Shouto's face pulled you up short, and he looked at Mineta like he wasn't really seeing him.

"You were right," was what he eventually managed. "The kabedon is very effective. Now if you will excuse us, I need to do it again."

A shocked laugh escaped you as Shouto's hand seized yours, and then you were being pulled around the corner into Kaminari's bathroom. Shouto walked you back against the door, an arm coming up just like before, pinning you against the door.

Another pleased laugh was muffled in Shouto's mouth as he took yours again, cupping your face to his. The lock clicked shut behind you.

[schemmentigfs]

Heyy babes😘🩷🪩

I've got a request for a Melissa x art teacher!reader where R and Mel are married but they both kept their own last names (and maybe they were wedding bands instead of big sparkly ring) so nobody really caught on, but they've never hid it so like if anyone asked they wouldn't deny it <3

And maybe reader is like really sweet and kind and loves to go on and on about Melissa but understands time and place and just doesn't do it at work. Kinda like a grump x sunshine

Wedding Bands.

Summary: the Abbott crew unexpectedly finds out about your marriage with Melissa.

tags 🤍: @lisaannwaltersbra

Being married to Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti is like living with a storm that balances between chaos and calm—blunt, sarcastic, and fiercely protective, but with a tenderness that only you really get to see. She’s fire and steel on the outside, especially when it comes to her students and her friends, but behind closed doors, with you, she’s a softer, more vulnerable version of herself. It’s a love that surprises people who only know the tough, no-nonsense second-grade teacher with her sharp tongue and devil-may-care attitude. But, it's a love that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

Though you both kept your last names after getting married, there’s never been any secret about your relationship. You wear matching, simple wedding bands, understated and meaningful rather than flashy. There was no grand show when you exchanged vows, no glittering diamond engagement rings or social media announcement. It was just you and her, standing together in the truth of your love. You’ve never hid it either. If anyone asked, you’d tell them. But most don’t. Maybe they assume you’re just close friends. Maybe they’re too focused on the fact that, at work, you’re the soft-spoken art teacher with paint-splattered aprons, and she’s still the formidable Ms. Schemmenti.

Today, though, is not a workday. It’s early Sunday morning, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. You’re in bed, nestled in a cocoon of warmth, Melissa’s arm draped across your waist, her hand resting lazily against your stomach. The slow, rhythmic sound of her snoring fills the quiet room. It’s not the delicate, quiet kind of snoring you’d expect from someone so beautiful.

No, actually your wife snores like a bear, loud and unapologetic. The kind that can startle you awake at night, though by now, you’re more amused than anything.

You turn your head slightly, watching her sleep. Her fiery red hair is splayed across the pillow, messy from a night of tossing and turning. There’s drool on her cheek, and it’s smeared against your neck, leaving a wet patch on your skin. A small smile creeps onto your lips as you stifle a laugh. She always denies she snores, and the drooling? She flat-out refuses to acknowledge it, no matter how many times you tease her about it.

As much as you want to stay wrapped up in her warmth, you need to get up. There’s a list of house chores waiting for you, and if you’re going to make breakfast for the both of you, you need to get started. You shift gently, trying to slide out from under Melissa’s arm without waking her, but as soon as you try to pull away, she lets out a low, grumpy groan.

“Mm-mm,” the older woman mumbles, still half-asleep, her arm tightening around your waist. Her lips brush against your neck, and you feel her nuzzle closer. “Hm, babe?”

You chuckle softly. “Mel, I need to get up,” you whisper, trying to pull away again.

“No. Stay,” your wife grumbles, voice thick with sleep. She sounds like a grumpy old bear as she buries her face further into your neck. “Too early.”

Her lips press lightly against your neck again, but this time, they linger, and you feel her teeth graze your skin. You freeze, not because you’re afraid, but because you know what’s coming next. Melissa Schemmenti, for all her gruffness, has a soft spot for early morning affection. The moment you try to escape, she pulls you back in, refusing to let you go.

“Lissa….” you sigh, laughing quietly.

Before you can protest, she bites down on your neck—not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make you squirm. Then she starts sucking, slow and deliberate, her lips pulling at your skin as her grip tightens around you.

You gasp softly, trying to wiggle away, but she’s got you trapped in her sleepy hold. “Melissa Ann, come on,” you whine playfully, knowing full well that she’s not going to let you go so easily.

She doesn’t stop. In fact, she only intensifies her efforts, the wet, lazy kisses trailing along the curve of your neck. You can feel her smiling against your skin, and you know exactly what she’s doing. She’s using her favorite trick—those soft, irresistible puppy eyes—to get her way. Melissa, grumpy and stubborn as she is, knows how to play you like a fiddle.

“Please?” the redhead woman mumbles, voice barely above a whisper, still sleep-heavy. “Just five more minutes.”

You groan, unable to resist her when she’s like this. She can be a total grump, but when she looks at you like that—her dark green eyes soft and pleading, her lips pressed to your skin—it’s hard to say no.

You sigh, letting your head fall back onto the pillow. “Fine. Five more minutes,” you mutter, pretending to be annoyed, though you’re smiling the whole time.

Melissa makes a satisfied noise, finally easing up on her hold, though she keeps her face buried in your neck. You can feel her lips curve into a grin as she gives your skin one last playful bite before settling down. Her snoring resumes almost instantly, deep and steady, like the rumble of an engine.

You lay there for a few more minutes, listening to her breathe, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against your back. She’s a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure, but moments like this, when it’s just the two of you, she’s like a big, sleepy kitten. All her sharp edges soften, and the walls she keeps up for the rest of the world melt away. You can’t help but feel a surge of affection for her in this vulnerable state, her warmth surrounding you like a protective barrier against the outside world.

But, true to her nature, Melissa doesn't stay sweet for long. The peace of the morning is interrupted by her grumbling as she rolls over, releasing you from her grasp but leaving a lingering bite mark on your neck.

“You’re ridiculous as fuck, you know that?” you tease, rubbing at the sore spot.

She cracks one eye open, smirking lazily. “You love me.”

You sigh dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The rest of the day goes as most of your Sundays do—comfortable, slow, filled with the kind of peace you’ve learned to savor after a busy workweek. You make breakfast while Melissa lingers in the kitchen, sipping coffee and watching you cook with a half-smile. You love these little moments, the quiet domesticity of your life together. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos of school, where she’s the tough-as-nails second-grade teacher and you’re the laid-back art teacher, happily covered in paint most of the time.

At work, your marriage isn’t something you flaunt. Not because you’re hiding it, but because there’s no need to announce it. You’ve always been the kind of person who believes in keeping personal life personal, especially when you’re at school. Besides, anyone who really knows you two could easily guess there’s something more between you. There’s the way Melissa’s eyes light up when she talks about you, the way she sneaks glances at you from across the teachers’ lounge when she thinks no one is watching.

And of course, there are your wedding bands. Small and simple, just the way you both wanted them, they’re easy to overlook unless someone knows what they’re looking for. You remember the day you picked them out, how you and Melissa both agreed that neither of you wanted something big or flashy. Just something meaningful.

“I like that we don’t need to make a show of it,” you had said at the time, sliding the band onto her finger with a smile.

“Good,” Melissa had replied, grinning as she slid yours onto your finger. “Because I’d rather die than wear a giant rock.”

Later in the day, when you’re both lounging on the couch, your wife pulls you into her lap, wrapping her arms around your waist. She’s still grumpy from the morning, but she’s softened considerably since then.

“You know I hate when you try to leave me in bed,” she grumbles, pressing her lips to the back of your neck.

You laugh, turning your head to look at her. “Yeah, well, I hate waking up covered in drool, so I guess we’re even.”

Melissa groans, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “I don’t drool, dumbass.”

You smirk, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “Sure you don’t, Mel.”

She narrows her eyes at you, playfully biting at your shoulder, but you just laugh, knowing that as tough as she acts, she’s completely wrapped around your finger. And that’s something you’ll always cherish—knowing that, at the end of the day, no matter how grumpy or sarcastic she gets, Melissa Schemmenti is yours, through and through.

Your marriage wasn't a secret at Abbott, but somehow, most people just didn’t seem to catch on. You wore your wedding bands every day, and if someone asked, you’d have no problem sharing the truth, but the topic just never came up. Despite there being rumors, you figured the quiet art teacher with the sunny disposition and the tough, no-nonsense second-grade teacher seemed like an unlikely match to the rest of the staff.

Of course, Barbara Howard knew from day one. She was your wife’s best friend for god's sake. Melissa had too much respect for Barb to keep something like that from her. The kindergarten teacher would give you knowing smiles at staff meetings during development weeks or breaks and occasionally make cryptic comments that sailed right over the heads of your co-workers, though you and the older woman always exchanged smirks when they happened.

But now, as you’re sitting in the teacher’s lounge on a normal Wednesday afternoon, sipping your coffee and chatting with Janine and Jacob about the upcoming art fair, the rest of the crew is about to have an awakening.

Melissa bursts into the lounge, her usual fiery energy turning heads as she stomps in, tossing her bag on the nearest chair. You glance up at her and smile, knowing from the look on her face that she’s had a day. Before anyone else can react, she strides across the room, stopping directly in front of you. Without a word, she leans down and plants a quick kiss on your lips—something she doesn’t usually do at work, but it’s clear she’s too frustrated to care right now.

The teacher’s lounge goes silent.

Jacob, who had been mid-sentence, looks like someone just unplugged his brain. Janine’s big eyes are wide as saucers, and Gregory, who had been quietly minding his own business in the corner, slowly raises his eyebrows. Even Ava, who’s notoriously hard to surprise, is staring from her spot with an amused grin.

Melissa pulls back from the kiss, scowling as she collapses into the chair next to you.“You’re not leaving earlier and letting me with those monsters today. I’m taking you home,” she growls, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip without asking.

You giggle, kissing her nose that scrunches immediately. And lean back in your chair, as the rest of the room remains frozen in shock.

“Wait, wait, wait—what?!” Janine is the first to find her voice, her hand flailing as she points between you and Melissa. “Did you—did you just—”

The redhead shoots her a look, half-exasperated and half-amused. “What, pipsqueak? You’ve never seen a married couple kiss before?”

Jacob’s mouth drops open, his eyes flicking between you and Melissa like he’s just put two and two together. “Married?!” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, looking completely flabbergasted. “You two are married? Like wife and wife?”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh, glancing at Melissa, who rolls her eyes. “Yep, Hill,” you say casually, holding up your left hand to show your wedding band. “We’ve been married for about six years now.”

Janine practically jumps out of her seat, hands flying to her cheeks. “How did I not know this?!”

Ava, who’s been watching the whole thing like it’s her favorite drama, lets out a cackle. “Y’all are just now figuring this out?” She leans back on the brick wall, crossing her arms. “I knew it. I mean, look at them. The only question is who lasts longer in bed.”

Melissa narrows her eyes at the principal. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

You smile at that, glancing at your wife, whose grumpy expression has softened into something more affectionate. She leans in closer, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before muttering, “We should’ve told them sooner. Now they’re never gonna shut up about it.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Hmm,” your wife grunts, though the smile tugging at her lips gives her away. “Maybe.”

As the crew continues to ask questions and process the fact that you and Melissa have been married this whole time, you just sit back and enjoy the moment. It’s not like you’ve been hiding your love, but there’s something nice about finally sharing it with the people you work with every day.

And even though the second grade teacher will grumble and complain, you know she secretly loves that they all know now too. Because, at the end of the day, being with you is something she’s proud of, whether she admits it out loud or not.

From across the room, Barbara catches your eye and gives you a wink, as if to say. I told you they’d figure it out eventually.

You wink back.

Later that evening, after a long day filled with laughter and revelations, you and Melissa find yourselves cuddled up on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms again. The soft glow of the lamp casts a cozy light over the room, and you can hear the faint hum of the city outside your window.

You rest your head on Melissa’s shoulder, feeling her fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. It’s a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks volumes about your relationship. You’ve always loved this about her—how she could be so gruff and intimidating to others, yet so tender and nurturing with you.

As you sit there, your mind wanders back to the day’s events. You can’t help but wonder what it would have been like if the rest of the crew had found out sooner. Would they have treated you differently? Would they have reacted with shock and excitement or simply accepted it as part of the dynamic? The thought brings a smile to your face.

“What’s so funny, amore?” She asks, glancing down at you with a quizzical look.

You shake your head, grinning. “Just thinking about how everyone reacted today. It’s kind of wild, isn’t it? They never saw it coming.”

Melissa chuckles, her laughter a low rumble in her chest. “Yeah, they’re pretty clueless ‘n a bunch of dumbasses. But it’s funny to see their faces.”

You nod, leaning into her a bit more. “I love that we’re us. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The older woman turns her head slightly, her green eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You mean that?”

“Of course. You’re my everything, Mel,” you say earnestly.

Her expression softens, and she leans down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You’re mine too, sunshine.”

As you settle back against her, a warm feeling spreads through your chest. You realize that regardless of how others might perceive your relationship, it’s what you have that truly matters. Your love, your partnership, and the moments next to her.

You know that you wouldn’t trade this life for anything. Not the snarky comments, not the grumpiness, and definitely not the way she loves you. Together, you are perfectly imperfect.

[anakin-skywalker-always]

padawan/atoc era anakin x reader, they're in love with each other (both jedi) but obviously can't come forward. Anakin confides in Padmé, reader becomes convinced/jealous that anakin is with padme

(bonus points if you can make it angsty and fluffy)

As Easy As Breathing

Hi nonnie! Thank you so, so, so much for this rec! It’s my first one on this account and it’s really quite the christening. Hope its okay, I’m not the best at angst! 

Pairing: Padawan!Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Reader (Star Wars) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none!! Should be all good, let me know if you caught anything I may have missed. Not beta read! 

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes: Anakin is canonically 19 in AOTC, reader is the same, maybe a year younger. Clone Wars have not yet started in this fic, I’m just assuming Padmé and Anakin stayed besties after the whole nonsense in Phantom Menace.

The warm sun filtering through the windows fell upon Anakin’s face, in a soft moment of solitude, the sounds of the Coruscant cityscape provided him with a brief reprieve to Padmé’s chastising. He often thought that his ability to talk to Padmé about anything was his strength, but in this moment he couldn’t help to think of it as a weakness. Anakin cringed as Padmé continued to berate him; On a rare afternoon off the nineteen-year-old padawan found himself lounging on the senator’s couch. 

“Seriously Anakin, you should just-” Padmé stilled, her slender hands finding her hips, huffing, she continued, “Are you even listening to me, Ani?” The forceful tone on his nickname got Anakin’s attention once again. 

“I am!” Anakin raised his eyebrows in addition to his hands, in mock surrender. “I swear Padmé!” 

The senator found it easy to roll her eyes at his antics, like always. But she could see the change in Anakin, could see how his emotions for his fellow padawan learner have caused conflict in him. Her friend wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating. Padmé knew Anakin was an intense person, a strong personality, everyone knew that about him. But this, this was different. He seemed lost, like he was missing something he needed to operate. Padmé found her way to the couch, sitting beside Anakin, grabbing his tanned, calloused hands in her own. 

“Anakin, if you do truely care this strongly for her, you must tell her.” Anakin’s eyes found Padmé’s own. “It would be cruel, to withhold this love.” There was a time in Anakin’s life where this is all he wanted, being with Padmé and he knew his nine-year-old self would be so excited by innocent hand holding. But his nineteen-year-old self was happier to have such a strong, nonjudgemental friend. 

“How did you know that you loved Sabé?” Anakin asked gently, knowing how the senator safeguarded her relationship with her handmaiden fiercely. 

Anakin noted how Padmé seemed to glow at the mention of her lover. A warm smile graced her pink lips, eyes crinkling at the sides, a faraway glaze coated her sparkling eyes. Her signature in the force felt warm, it wrapped around Anakin’s brain, made him feel safe. Padmé’s love for Sabé was so tangible it extended outside herself, adjusting her force signature. 

“I realised I loved Sabé when being around her became a necessity, an honesty, a truth that I did not know I was constantly seeking out.” Padmé gushed, a light trail of pink lit itself over her high cheekbones and freckled nose. “I felt as if Sabé had breathed new life into me everytime I saw her, it was natural, it was right.” 

Anakin was quiet for a moment, Padmé became worried that she had overstepped somehow, projected to far onto Anakin’s feelings. 

“Loving y/n is as natural as breathing.” He replied. 

Anakin rolled over on his hard, standard issue, Jedi temple bed. A sleepless night was not uncommon for him, but this felt inherently different. Padmé’s words from earlier in the day rattled around his brain, demanding to be dealt with. Anakin never saw love as a weakness, never saw attachment as weakness. How could he? Love was the basis of the light, the well of Jedi power that Anakin drew from was a labour of love, was purity, was peace, was built with empathy and centered by knowing himself. His love for you did not make him a bad person. 

But he knew it would make him seem like a bad Jedi. 

Not knowing your stance on him, on the rule of attachment was slowly eating away at Anakin’s peace. 

Groaning aloud, Anakin ran his hands down his face. 

Your head whipped around, anxiously. You knew it was embarrassing that you always looked for him in a crowded room, but you could not help it, you felt as if the force was electric until he calmed it. His signature singlehandedly smothering anything else it came in contact with. Being around Anakin, to you, felt as natural as breathing. 

“Looking for young Skywalker, are you?” Your master, Mace Windu asks, a small smirk whispers across his face, lightly nudging you in the shoulder. The two of you stood in one of the reception rooms of the Republic building. The Senate was hosting a charity gala with the invite extending to the Jedi temple. So, there you stood, in your best robes, breaking your neck to catch a glimpse of The Chosen One. 

“No Master.” You said, quietly. Turning your head away from the powerful Jedi Master to not embarrass yourself further with the luxury of him catching your furious blush. Your master excused himself, laughing, finding Master Plo Kloon. 

So, you stood there, alone, foolishly searching the room for your fellow padawan, the one that consumed your mind and soul. 

It wasn’t completely unlikely, you reasoned with yourself. You and Anakin were friends, were very well matched, sparring partners. But, Anakin was a good Jedi. A strong Jedi. Following orders wasn’t Anakin’s strongest suit, you’d admit. Pondering whether he would disregard the rules of attachment for you, however, was different. 

Nonetheless, like a junkie craving death sticks, you craved Anakin’s presence, his force signature was all you needed to feel right. The anxiety of the gala was too much. Closing your eyes, tightly, you reached out into the force to find him. Anakin’s signature, golden like it always was flocked to your senses, like always. 

Opening your eyes, you began to weave through the bustling crowd as quickly as one could who was masquerading as casual. 

“I’m not going to say anything to her now, Padmé.” Anakin huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest, defensively. “Not in front of all these people, you’ve got to be joking.” He scoffed. 

Sabé giggled quietly, the two women joined their arms at the elbow. Padmé just rolled her eyes at Anakin’s supposed insoclence. 

Your frame weaving through the crowd in his direction caught Anakin’s eye. He smiled, quikly raised a hand, and was delighted when your devastating smile echoed back. 

“Anakin.” You greeted him, with a small bow of the head. His name sounded heavenly whenever you deigned to let it fall from your lips. Anakin was convinced he could breathe easier with you around, like he had been purged of something suffocating him. 

“Y/N, this is Sen-” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear the name of your rival come from his beautiful mouth. Your jealousy that you held for Padmé reared its ugly head, and you couldn’t help to feel shame burn deep inside the space between ribs. 

“Senator Amidala, a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” You stuck your hand out, awkwardly hoping for a handshake. “Anakin has told me so much.” Cordial. It was a good tactic. You were a good person, a good jedi. You would not succumb to jealousy. Besides, Padmé had other qualities you were far more jealous of than just her nonexistent romantic relationship that you deludedly conjured up in your mind when you tried to sleep at night. 

“All good things I should hope.” She smiled, her soft hand finding your own, a small shake. You could empathise with Anakin for falling in love with someone like her. Someone so intelligent, powerful, beautiful. 

It was not lost on you, the way the senator’s hand quickly found the one of the woman she stood beside. 

“This is Sabé.” Anakin started, introducing Padmé’s guest. “Padmé’s hand-” For the second time tonight, but surely not the last, Anakin was cut off. 

“My partner.” Senitor Amidala said firmly, though her eyes twinkled with pride. Sabé’s own shock manifested itself into a wide smile. The two looked eachother in the eyes and you couldn’t help but feel silly. Of course. Of course. 

For whatever reason, the words you thought you had died swiftly in your mouth,  “Oh.” was all you managed to get out. “A pleasure to meet you too, Sabé.” You tried quickly to save the situation, to save embarrassment. But Padmé’s slight smile, Sabé’s coy smirk. You felt like the two Naboo women knew you, saw you. They somehow, in this embarrassing blunder of a meeting had already clocked that you harboured feelings for Anakin Skywalker. It made you feel foolish, moreso than what you already did. 

“If you’d excuse us, Jedi, we have futher business to attend to.” Sabé quipped strongly, leading her senator lover to the next group of politicians. The art of smalltalk was something else you could add to the list of Padmé’s items you were jealous of. 

Anakin turned to you, chuckling. His standard-issue Jedi robes moving effortlessly with his chest. Running a hand through his cropped hair, you felt his eyes scanning your face. You knew your blood would betray you, like it so often did around your friend, rising to the surface of your cheeks, splattering down your neck and chest. Embarrassment clung to you like a rash. 

“Don’t mind them, they like setting me up.” Anakin scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Setting you up for what?” You asked, eyeing him micheviously. Chatting with Anakin felt natural; He was quick witted and liked challenging you, he was a tease. 

And, more often than not, a flirt. 

This was different though, Anakin had an air of nervousness about him. You noticed as your fellow padawan’s large, veiny hands found the way to the back of his neck, rubbing sheepishly. 

“Oh you know…” He trailed off, looking everywhere except for your eyes, his own blue ones scanning the ornate ceiling of the reception room. “Setting us up to be alone together.” He admitted, squinting as if the words bought him some kind of physical pain. 

You quirked a brow, your arms quickly crossing your chest - a defensive stance. “Would that be so bad? Being alone together?” The words meant to be teasing, non-serious. But it was too late, the seed was planted in Anakin’s brain. 

To him, that felt like an admission of sorts, an admission that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Well, if he squinted it seemed like that. 

In a tender moment, something rare for Anakin, he reached out. Tucking stray hairs behind your ear, gently following your padawan braid around the cusp of it. 

“You know, y/n, that I want nothing more,” He smiled. It was pure, and real. You felt the sincerity in the force, the truth within him. Moreso, you felt your ear burn from the brief contact, felt your heart swell in your chest at the mere thought of being alone in close quarters with him. “I want nothing more than to be alone with you.” 

He retracted his hand, but you still felt alight with his closeness. His force signature felt palpable, you were enraptured in his warmth. He was golden. Your golden boy. 

“Why don’t we go get lost then?” You whispered, scared anything too loud would betray your eagerness. Anakin’s smile split across his face, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. Smirking he placed a strategic hand at the low of your back. He was so incredibly tall, bending over you to whisper back, 

“After you, my lady.”

—--

AN: Hehe all done! Left it open for more if you wanted, but teasing enough to be left as it is! Hope it’s alright and I hope you could enjoy at least some of it <3 

P.S This is a side account, my main is @mayhemories, so I will be answering any comments with that account but rest assured it is still me :) <3

Much love, El. 

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 17

dirty talk - miya atsumu x reader

word count: 583

kinktober masterlist

Everyone in Atsumu’s life knew he had a big mouth. He was the guy who didn’t know when to shut up. And it annoyed the crap out of everyone. His friends, his teammates, his twin brother. However, you had never once complained about it.

When you first said you didn’t really mind Atsumu’s lack of filter, everyone was rightfully shocked. Osamu had questioned you on multiple occasions about it (“how do you fight the urge to just deck him across the face?”) and Suna had straight up declared you a psycho (he was being dramatic, of course). You had a feeling that if they knew exactly why you loved Atsumu running his mouth, they would never look at you the same.

You looked on at your boyfriend right now, eyes shining with adoration and pure lust as you watched him fall apart at the feeling of your pussy clinging to his cock in a death grip.

“H-ha~” Atsumu’s moan was high and broken, his hair disheveled and matted to his forehead by sweat, red flush covering his cheeks, his neck, all the way down to his bare chest. His arms flexed when he gripped your thighs hard, pushing them further up to rest on either sides of your torso, bending you in half. You sighed when it made his dick hit deeper in you, and Atsumu cursed.

“B-baby, fuck.” His voice sounded so wrecked, you were sure you could cum just from that. “Pumped ya full of loads of cum and yer still tight as hell. God, yer so perfect. Pussy made just fer me, yeah?”

You moaned at the words and nodded furiously, the slow slide of his cock growing torturous. He was throbbing inside you, balls tight and ready for him to cum again. Your pelvis was covered in your own juices and his cum, your legs wobbling and shaking in his hold. Your core was tingling with overstimulation, but you wanted more, more, more.

“Tsumu.” you gasped, trying to convey to him what you needed. Your tear filled eyes saw his own face stretch with a wide smirk.

“Whatcha want? Another load? Ya want more cum?” His voice dropped low, eyes like molten earth, burning into you. He leaned over you, resting his weight on you, before he pulled back to slam his hips down hard against you. You yelped when he hit your sweet spot.

“You greedy slut. How much more ya want? Yer spillin all over the place. Can’t even hold this much cum in ya. But ya still want it. Fine, then. Princess gets what princess wants.”

And there was his mouth, running and running, words getting filthier and filthier, slurring together as he picked up the pace. His thrusts were getting more and more sloppy, quicker, desperate. You could feel, for the thousandth time, the knot in your lower stomach tightening. You were so close.

“Make a mess on me, baby. C’mon. Need ta feel ya gush all over me. I know you have it in ya. I know what this sweet pussy can give me. Ya want my cum? Gimme yer cum first, sweetheart. C’mon. Milk my cock-”

And you toppled over the edge, feeling more and more wetness coat your thighs and his hips, babbling nonsensical words while Atsumu talked about how good you looked and how fucking amazing it feels and oh god, he was gonna cum too….

Miya Atsumu’s big mouth came in handy sometimes. The people in his life just didn’t know that.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[rainybubbles]

How do you accidentally confess to COD men ?

Soap, Ghost, Alejandro, Gaz, König, Alex, Price

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written)

S O A P :

-"I can't lose you, Soap. Shit, you're important to me," you say while crying.

-"...I'm flattered, but can you focus on fixing my leg first?" he says.

-You blinked awkwardly.

-Let's start over and try to understand this, shall we?

-Well, you were a nurse working on a military base.

-When all the doctors asked you to wake up at 3 AM, you knew something had happened. You ran to the infirmary and saw Soap.

-He was heavily injured.

-Your heart skipped a beat.

-You and Soap had known each other since his enlistment.

- You were just an apprentice nurse, and he was a cadet. He always burnt something, and you were there to look after him, even when he accidentally burnt the ass of his sergeant.

-You had a crush on him since that time, but you decided a long time ago not to act on it.

- Soap was clearly not interested in you, and he had gone out with a lot of people.

-You can definitely say you're not his type at all, and you like your bond the way it is.

-But now, seeing him like this, it was different. Your heart was overwhelmed, and your mouth spoke before you could filter what you said.

-"I can't lose you, Soap. Shit, you're important to me," you say while crying.

-"...I'm flattered, but can you focus on fixing my leg first?" he says.

-You blinked awkwardly.

-"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm not ethical at all. You need help, and I'm talking nonsense."

-You helped the doctors and quickly went outside when you finished, in order to think about what had just happened.

-"Shit, it was so awkward. I really thought we were in a movie or something," you said, angry at yourself.

-"Well, honestly, it was fun to see you like that. I mean, it could have been the climax of a movie if Ghost had started to play the violin, and a slow-mo started on your face," a voice joked.

-You turned around and saw Soap.

-"You're supposed to lay down. You can't walk."

-"What can I say? Seeing you make miracles," he says with a smirk.

-You sighed and walked towards him, offering your arms to lead him to a bed. He smiled.

-"I'm sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have said that," you said.

-"But you mean it?"

-"That's not the point. It was not the moment, and I know the answer. It was just cringe."

-"...damn, loving me is cringe?" Soap said teasing you.

-"That's- you know that's not what I mean."

-"Yes, I know. I feel the same, by the way."

-"But you..."

-"It's been three months, I realize. I know it's longer for you."

-"You noticed," you realized, all these years thinking you were good at hiding it were in fact obvious to him.

-"Yes, but you decided not to tell anything, so I never acted on it. But I...I feel the same now, and you almost confessed, so can you give me a chance?"

-"You mean when you can take me on a date and not bleed to death?" you said, looking at his injuries.

-"Yes," he chuckled.

-"Okay," you whispered, scared that it was a dream.

-"Okay," he repeated with a smile.

G H O S T :

-"WHAT DO I DO NOW ?!" you screamed and looked at your friend.

-"Just...explain to him."

-"Oh yeah and how do you explain why I send him a fucking eggplant emoji at 4 AM without anything ?" you screamed panicked

-"Tell him the truth." your friend casually says.

-"He won't believe me. Like 'hey I sent you this emoji not because I want to fuck you, but because my brother sent me a lot of memes with eggplant so every night we sent this emoji to each other laughing. And I made a mistake and sent this to you, not him. Nobody does that. He won't believe me." you sigh."Oh fuck, he rode the text."

-"Well...he's your crush no ? I mean you talk about him often so if anything happens it could be good."

-"Yes he is, but I don't want to confess, not now. Fuck, I only met him like three times and only thanks to Soap. We're just acquaintance. I only have his number because I'm Soap's emergency contact."

-"And now he thinks you want to fuck him." your friends resumes

-"Thanks for your help." you say sarcastically."Shit he's writing, what would he say ?"

-"Well I bet on a peach emoji."

-You looked at your friend and showed them your middle finger.

-"What if I make things awkward and-"

-"You are always awkward."your friend interrupts you.

-"...thanks for your support." you said ironically.

-"I mean the worst is that he says no and when you'll meet again the only thing he remembers will be this fucking emoji. That's fine."your friend says.

-"No. I don't want to be the eggplant emoji in his mind."

-"It's too late."

-A ring interrupted your conversation.

-"It's him." you said looking at your notification.

-"And ?"

-"He sent a comma."

-"A comma?" your friend asks lost

-"Yes."

-"what does it mean ?"

-"I DON'T KNOW ! Does it mean he stops to breathe, or I should breathe or-"

-"Or he made a mistake and typed wrong."

-"No, he's good with his hands."

-"I don't want to know how you know that." your friend says looking at you

-"...I wasn't implying anything weird. He's a fucking military." you answered.

-"Ok. So what do you do ?"

-"I could send a comma too ?"

-"Yay revise your punctuations with Y/N and Ghost." your friend says ironically.

-"I...oh fuck, he sent another text."

-"And ?" your friend asks

-"Does the eggplant be used to convey a desire to meet me or is it some weird shit like Soap does usually,"you read out loud his text

-"he texts like a grandpa." your friend comments

-"Fuck you." you say.

-"Calm down, I'm just saying the truth. You should answer it's because you want him."

-"No way, I told you we're acquaintances. I have a crush yes, but we don't know each other well and I-"

-Ting.

-Another text from him.

-"Because it's okay in both cases." he texted you.

-"Oh fuck." you say with your eyes widen.

-"You can say that again !" your friend laughs.

A L E J A N D R O :

-Being a soldier means living in a community. And even if sometimes you're lucky and have your own little room, it's obviously not a hotel.

-So when Alejandro was doing a patrol to check everyone was asleep, he didn't expect to overhear you.

- But it was normal, the walls were thin and he could hear Rudy's snore from here.

-So yes, he heard you talking in your sleep.

-Except it was a fever dream you were having, and it was his name you were whispering.

-He froze.

-He didn't want to intrude, so he stepped back, but it was too late.

- He heard you clearly because of those thin walls.

-The next morning, when all his soldiers were eating together and you were present he couldn't stop looking at you. He didn't know what to do.

-He was not a moron, and he didn't want to confront you about that, but keeping this silent was also horrible.

-"Everything is good, Ale?" Rudy asks.

-"...I overheard something."

-"Let me guess, two soldiers making out? It's like the fourth time this week. Are they rabbits or what?" Rudy sighs at the new cadets.

-"No, it was not two soldiers," Alejandro answers.

-"Oh." Rudy realizes, "oh. Well...it's also common to do it solo. Why are you making this a big deal?"

-"Because they say my name."

-Rudy chokes on his bread and starts laughing.

-"Why do you find this funny?" Alejandro whispers angrily.

-"Because you seem all flustered. You're usually a smooth talker, but you seem so shy about it. It's not the first time a soldier has a crush on you, Alejandro."

-"I know, but it's different."

-"And why is it different?"

-"It's them."

-Rudy smirks.

-"I see."

-"But I can't say I overheard them, but I want to tell them I feel the same. How do I do this when all I could think when I see them is this memory?"

-"Be honest, you don't know how to lie. You're an honest man, Alejandro."

-"You're right, I have to tell them," Alejandro says. He's brave, he can do that.

-"They're coming, good luck," Rudy says and winks.

-You sit at your usual place, greeting everyone, and look at Alejandro.

-"Is everything okay?" you ask him when you notice his expression.

-"I overheard you," he says blankly out of nowhere.

"...can you be more clear, because I have no idea what you're talking about?" you say lost.

-"Last night, I was checking if everyone was asleep and I overheard you saying my name in a feverish dream."

-You raise your eyebrows and smirk.

-"Is that so?"

-He notices the smirk.

-"Why are you smirking?"

-"Because I was on cleaning duty this night; it's Mina who was in my room."

-"Oh."

-"Yes. I guess you have to talk to her," you say.

-"You're right. Sorry, I didn't know."

-"That's okay, but if I may ask, what were you planning to do after telling me this?" you tease him.

He notices your playful tone and smirks back.

-"That you don't need to dream, you can have me in real life."

-"Smooth, really smooth, Alejandro."

He smiles.

-"So it's a yes?"

-"Yes, but you still have to talk to Mina. I wasn't joking; it was her in my room last night."

G A Z :

-It was a night mission.

-You were waiting with the 141 for the order to go.

-It's been hours since you were waiting, and you knew after this mission you probably couldn't see the 141 again.

-Because you were in a different unit, and your collaboration was only for this mission.

-So you knew it was probably the moment to shoot your shot with Gaz.

-You inhale and go to his figure lying in the dark.

- "Gaz, I know we get along with each other. I can't count how many nights we spent just talking to each other on the base or even how many times we laugh together.I...I'm interested in you in more of a friend way. I know it's horrible to say that now, but afterward, it will be too late. So yeah." You say.

-Silence.

-You only hear silence as the figure doesn't move.

-You feel your heart aching.

-Shit, is he rejecting you in silence without saying anything?

-You look at the ground.

-"I think you should activate your vision nocturne, soldier. Gaz is at your right."

-Shit.

-Shit, shit, shit.

- You open your eyes wide.

-You...you just confessed to Price thinking it was fucking Gaz.

-"Shit, I'm so so so sorry. I didn't mean that obviously. I-"

-"Calm down, soldier. And go talk to him. We still have time here, but look at who you're talking to." Price teases you.

-You nod and walk towards Gaz ashamed.

- "Are you okay?" Gaz asks.

-"I just made the worst mistake of my life."

-"What did you say? Did you say to Price he had a nice ass or what?" Gaz jokes to light up the mood.

- You stay silent.

-Gaz opens his mouth. "No, you-"

-"It wasn't his ass. But yeah, I basically confessed to him, because I mistook him for someone else. ?Because obviously in the dark without night vision you can't see anything."

-Gaz laughs.

-"Stop laughing, it's horrible. I'm the worst, he probably will report me."

-"No, he knew it wasn't for him, didn't he ?"

- "Yes, but it...I'm feeling so ashamed."

-"With who do you think mistake him for?" Gaz asks.

-"I don't answer that question. I have made enough confessions for today."

-"Come on, tell me."

-"Nope."

-"Let me guess then."

-"We're only five here, I don't want to let you guess."

-"Soap?"

-"Gaz, I said no."

-"Because if it's him, I don't think he-"

-"You. It was you." You say to shut him up. "Happy, now?"

-He stays silent. You look at him.

-"Yes," he says, smiling. "Even though I'm jealous that Price got the whole speech, it felt like I'm only having the crumbs." He teases you.

-"Shut up," you smile.

-"But I'm happy, I feel the same."

-"Good, because I have enough rejection for today."

-"Ohhhh, Price's rejection is not a good experience?" He jokes.

-"I could never again look at him in the eyes," you say.

K Ö N I G :

-"I thought you were just getting to know him," Soap says.

-"Yes. And that's why I was doing."

-"So could you explain how König ended up with his vest burnt if you were just talking ?" Gaz says skeptical.

-"I...well I was lighting the vanilla candle and he was here, with his eyes and I-"

-"You were checking him out and didn't pay attention to the matchstick, isn't it ?" Soap asks.

-"I was absorbed by his eyes ! They're like so beautiful and he was so close, I-"

-"You burnt his vest." Gaz says.

-"Thanks for the reminder, Gaz. I know now my chances are ruined with him. Shit. The worst is that I can't tell him why I accidentally burnt his vest, so now he thinks I hate him."

-"Well you could find an excuse." Soap says.

-"What excuse could explain a burnt vest, Mr. explosion ?" you asked.

-"You wanted to test if his vest was fireproof." Soap tried

-"..." you said.

-"..." Gaz said.

-Soap sighed.

-"Ok it's not a good one. But I'm trying to help, okay ?"

-"I have to tell him the truth. I don't want him to think I hate him. He's so gentle with us."

-"He's here. Go !" Gaz said as he pushed you.

-You opened your eyes wide. You didn't expect you would have to do that so soon.

-You walked anxiously towards him.

-When he saw you, he stepped back a little.

-It hurt you, but it was fair after the incident.

-"Hey, König, I- I wanted to explain what happened."

-He looked at you and just nodded, waiting for your explanation.

-"In fact I burnt your vest because I was admiring your eyes.I was gazing at you. And I didn't concentrate at all on the candle and I let the matchstick fall. I'm sorry."

-He opened his mouth. He didn't know what to say.

-"I- you were gazing at me ?"

-"Yes, I find you beautiful. But it's not an excuse for what happened. I should have paid more attention to the candle" you said honestly.

-"Thanks for the compliment and the apology"

-"I hope that you don't have any grudges, or you don't think I hate you. I wanted to make it clear."

-"Oh no, well, I know it was an accident. You seem..." he stopped himself to find the right word to described how much you were screaming and scared "terrified ?"

-"Yes." you confirmed.

-"So I knew it was not intentional, but I didn't understand why. But now I know."

-"Cool, so we're okay ?" you asked.

-"You don't want to know ?"

-"Know what ?"

-"If I find you beautiful too ? If I'm gazing at you sometimes ?"

-"Oh, no. I mean I didn't expect anything, so don't feel pressured or anything and-"

-"Because I do." he interrupts you.

-"Oh."

-"Yes."

-"So if I ask you on a date ?"

-"Yes."

-"Cool, cool, cool," you said anxiously but happy

-"Tonight ?" he asked.

-"YES ! I mean, yes of course."

-He smiled under his mask and left. You walked back to Soap and Gaz.

-"So ?" Gaz asked.

-"I have a date."

-"WHAT ?" Gaz said.

-" WHY DID Y/N HAVE A DATE WHEN THEY PUT HIM ON A FIRE AND I CAN'T EVEN HAVE ONE ?!" Soap whined

-You laughed. You didn't know why, but you definitely knew you were lucky he said yes.

A L E X :

-You were a barista at a coffee shop. You were taking Alex's order as usual, since he was a regular when your colleague interrupted you.

-"I prepared the order of the regular hottie you were talking about."

-You looked up at Alex.

-You looked at your colleague.

-He opened his eyes wide.

-"Oh shit" your colleague said.

-"I'm sorry Alex." You said, "This one is on the house and the next time my colleague will serve you. Sorry again." You gave him his coffee and left in the backs now not only your chances were ruined, but you could be possibly fired.

-Shit, it was unprofessional to talk with your colleagues about your crushes on some clients.

-But this was worst because the said client knew that now.

-He knew he was the hottie.

-"Hey", your colleague said after few minutes "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

-"That's okay you couldn't guess he was here. In fact you could because it was his order, but yeah..."

-"But I'm happy."

-"Happy ?" you said a little angry by his remarks now.

-"He let you that." he said giving you a paper.

-"What..." you took the paper and saw a number :"glad to be called a hottie by a hottie, call me."

-"oh wow"

-"It's like a romantic movie !"

-"Absolutely not."

-"YESSSSSSSS" your colleague teased you.

-"I'm just glad to not be fired right now."

P R I C E :

-You were an interpreter. During a long, boring brief, you were chatting with Gaz.

-"Nikolai, Lasswell, Price. Kiss, marry, kill," he says.

-"Lasswell is married, Gaz." you answer.

-"Then Ghost."

-"I kill Nikolai."

-"You dare to kill him!" Gaz says shocked.

-"I mean, I like him. He's a good guy, but I don't know him well. So yes, kill him, kiss Ghost, and marry Price."

-"Your judgment is so biased," Gaz says laughing.

-"Biased?"

-"You only marry Price because you like him."

-"Yeah, that's the point of the game. It's based on preferences, Gaz," you say.

-He smiles.

-"You don't deny what I say."

-"It's because that's obvious, I have a thing for him. Plus, everybody knows Price is like the perfect husband material."

-"Hmm, thanks for your comment," a voice says.

-You and Gaz look at each other.

-The whole room is staring at you.

-Lasswell points the microphone at your right, which is still on.

-"Fuck," you say and your voice echoes throughout the room.

-"Sorry about that," Gaz says, and he switches off the microphone.

-"We are so dead," Gaz says.

-"I am so dead, you mean. I'm surprised if they don't replace me with another interpreter at the end of the day."

-The meeting ends, but as Gaz and you are leaving, you hear Price calling you.

-You hesitate but walk towards him.

-"You know what I'm about to say."

-"Yes, Sir, it was inappropriate, and we should have paid attention to the brief. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. As you can guess, my goal was not to let this slip," you answer.

-Price nods.

-"Good. You can leave."

-You leave the room.

-You thought it was the end, Price clearly rejects you.

-Yet a few weeks later, when the mission ended, Price approached you.

-You were sitting at the bar with the 141 celebrating the success.

-"So you're not working with us anymore," he said.

-"Yeah, that's the end of my mission." You answered, smiling.

-"So it's not inappropriate if I ask you on a date?"

-"A date? Wait, you-"

-"I keep my work and personal life separated."

-"Shit, so if you didn't say anything, it was because we were colleagues."

-"And because it was fun to see you defeated," he chuckles.

-"You're mean." You laugh. "But that's a yes."

If you want more my Call of Duty masterlist : here

My masterlist : here

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hi darling! You' ve done incredible works! Could you please take a request for Raymond Smith with competency and size kinks?

Thank you for reading this 🩷🩷🩷

Thank you so much!

For once, I am so fucking happy with this but I really hope you like it. No pressure tags @yourwinchesterbros @rayslittlekitten @youflickedtooharddamnit

Masterlist

Roll Your Own

Contains: Cannabis use, competency kink, size kink, oral sex (f receiving) P in V, fluff.

1.6 K words

Ray is good at everything he does

You watched as Ray carefully picked the flower away from its stem, placing it in the grinder before sealing it and twisting the top with practised, precise movements. Seconds later, he was softly sprinkling the finely ground herb on the rolling paper. Meticulous fingers placed the filter at the end and finally rolled the joint tight before he slid it in front of you. "There you go, Love."

He made his with the same precision, with the added addition of tobacco from a cigarette, and you sighed. "That shit will kill you know?"

He chuckled warmly and shook his head. "There's plenty of stuff that's going to kill me, and a good, old fashion fifty fifty is not one of them." He reached out, squeezing your knee lovingly before flicking on his lighter and lighting your joint, then his own. His eyes remained on you as you inhaled, and he waited until you puffed out a lung full of smoke before speaking. "Good?"

You nodded. "You always rolled good joints, even if you complain about the new school nonsense I like."

The weather was warm enough that all you needed to be comfortable was a blanket over your lap and Ray sitting next to you. He slung his arm around the back of the bench and over your shoulder, pulling you close as the smoke blew away in the wind. "This is nice."

He smiled. "Yeah, it is." You leaned into him, somehow, whether it be the way he dressed or the way he carried himself, he managed to make himself look so much smaller than he was. In truth, he was broad and tall, with all lean muscles and coiled strength, and without all the trapping of high society dress, he was an intimidating large man. "You look lost in thought." He had pressed his nose to the side of your face, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as he spoke.

"I'm just thinking about how hot your are with your shirt off, and how I'd kill for some hot chips." It was getting close to dinner time, the lights around the barbeque turning on as the sun set over the hill.

He sighed and pressed his lips to your temple. "I can get you some hot chips, then we'll see about the other thing."

He stood up and stretched out his hand, pulling you to your feet before walking you to the kitchen and sitting you on a stool at the bench. Everything happened like a dance, the cutting board came out, then the knife out of its block and the potatoes from their bag in the cupboard. He liked showing off, a small smile gracing his face as he cut the potatoes into perfect, even lengths while the oven preheated, knowing you were watching with wrapped attention at every movement of his long fingers.

"See something you like?" He was a smug bastard when he wanted to be.

You nodded. "Yes, delicious carbohydrates."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip turning up into a smirk. "What did you call me?" There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as the chips entered the oven, and he was walking over to you with a swagger in his step. "They'll be ready in forty minutes, how about I get some wagyu out of the freezer too?"

You nodded and placed your hand on his cheek. "I would like that." He leaned down and kissed you, his beard scratching your skin as his lips sealed on yours. He pulled away, brushing a stray hair from your face as he looked down at you lovingly. You craned your head and pecked his jaw. "You know what else I'd like?"

He smirked, his face lightening up as he shook his head. "Dinner before dessert, Love"

****

Dinner was lovely, Ray had once again outdone himself, everything was perfect. The quiet moments like this were the best parts of the day, with him stealing glances at you every time he thought you weren't looking. You talked about your day and Ray his, and with dinner done, you moved to the couch. It didn't take long for you to climb onto his lap, and he smiled into a kiss as you pushed his mustard yellow sweater off his broad shoulders. His hand found your face, and he fiddled with the buttons on your shirt, each one popping open with care.

He used his body weight to lift you off him and spin around, taking your hand and leading you up the staircase, stopping to press you into the railing so he could kiss you. It was only a short intermission, but it left you breathless nonetheless, and by the time you were through the threshold of your shared bedroom, you were ready to sink to your knees.

He stopped you with a smirk, and you raised your eyebrow. "What gives?"

He ran his finger down your sternum and leaned in close, his lips bumping yours as he spoke. "I want dessert."

You blinked. "But…"

He shook his head. "No buts, get on the bed."

You huffed, but you couldn't hide your smile. "You are a terrible husband, depriving me like this."

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed, lifting your hand to his chest to lay over his heart. "You wound me."

You use the excuse to remove his button down. "Yes, and you deny me."

He shook his head as he stripped off the rest of your clothes and walked you backwards towards the edge of the bed. "I could never deny you anything." He was gazing down at you with such deep affection that it almost hurt. "Can I put my mouth on you now?"

You nodded, laughing as you pulled back with you onto the bed. He kissed his way down your body, stopping at your breast to give each one attention before continuing on his journey. His massive hands ran down your legs, lifting them up on his solid back as he settled on his belly on the bed. He kissed the insides of your thighs, each kiss soft and reverent as he made his way closer to your core.

He licked you from entrance to clit, and you gasped out his name as your hips bucked. He stilled for a moment, throwing one forearm over your hips so you couldn't twitch away and wiggling down so he was keeping your legs apart with his shoulders. He began in earnest when he knew you couldn't shift away from his seeking mouth, closing his lips around your clit while his other hand reached up to play with your breast, and despite the lack of his weight on your body, you felt utterly covered by him.

He was moaning like you were the one getting him off, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you with each pass of his tongue. The edge inevitably appeared, and you lifted your hand from his hair to cover your mouth to avoid what would have been a wail, then everything stopped, and he was looking up at you with both expectation and concern. He lifted his arm off your hip and reached up, wrapping it around your wrist as he brought it downwards. He pressed his wet lips to the very centre of your palm before placing it flat on the bed and smiling softly. "Don't hide anything from me."

He didn't give you time to respond, returning right back to his mission with even more vigour this time. It didn't take long for the peak to crest again, and you found yourself falling into what seemed to be endless bliss as he licked you through it. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before pulling away and wiping his face with his hand. "Thank you, Love."

You reached out, rushing to free him from his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one go before spreading your legs to accommodate him. His lips found yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist as you reached down to grab his cock so you could guide it inside you. Without the help of his fingers, it was a stretch, and you buried your face in his neck as he took over when you got too overwhelmed.

It must have been a lot for him too, because he was wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you up to sit in his lap, your chest pressed to his as he slowly rocked his hips upwards. He pressed his forehead to yours as you shared a breath, his eyes locked to yours as he picked up the pace. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on."

You felt so close to him like this, his considerable arms wrapped around you as he held you tight. You could feel his body rippling with each movement until he adjusted again and one hand left you back in favour of rubbing your clit. "Come on, my Darling, I can feel how close you are."

Your teeth latched on the meat of his shoulder as you came, pulling him with you as his rhythm faltered. You stayed like that for a time, catching your breath while his lips lay on your temple. Eventually, you parted and he pulled you with him as he laid down, brushing your sweat stuck hair from your face as you rested your head over his heart. "That was lovely."

He smiled lazily. "Yesn it was." He rubbed your nose with his, then kissed you. "I love you."

You took his face in your hand, and he fought the urge to nuzzle into your palm. "I love you too Ray."

Fin

[engeorged]

Harry's Stag - Part One

As I stepped out of the taxi, the cool Amsterdam air washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The canals, the narrow streets, the lively hum of the city—it was just what I needed. A lads’ weekend with my best mates, a chance to unwind before I marry the man of my dreams.

I glanced at the guys, a wave of affection washing over me. Jim and I had been mates since we were kids, practically growing up together. Tall, lean, with that rugged, outdoorsy vibe and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through any nonsense, Jim was the steady one—the rock who always kept us grounded.

Banning and Noel came into our lives during university when we all played rugby together. Banning, with his quiet confidence and sharp mind, was always thinking a few steps ahead. He had this knack for coming up with a plan, making sure we stayed out of trouble and found our way home in one piece. Then there’s Noel—scruffy, blonde, and a bit shorter than the rest of us, but with a cheeky grin that could charm his way out of any mess he managed to get himself into. He was the joker of the group, ensuring we were never bored.

And then there’s me, Harry, the soon-to-be groom, the guy who’s somehow managed to land the most amazing man in the world. Jason is everything I’ve ever wanted—6’5, blonde, and brilliant, working in finance but with a heart of gold. He’s got this mix of confidence and kindness that makes me fall for him all over again every time I see him. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, and I know it.

But right now, all I want is to forget about the wedding planning and just enjoy this weekend with the guys. We’ve been through so much together—high school dramas, university antics, and everything life has thrown at us since. This weekend is our chance to let loose, to celebrate before everything changes.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I woke up, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement. Today was going to be one for the books. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs with the guys to tackle the hotel’s breakfast buffet. I’d always seen buffets as a bit of a challenge—something I’d perfected during our rugby trips in uni when the lads and I would try to outdo each other with how much we could eat.

The spread was impressive: stacks of pancakes, sizzling sausages, crispy bacon, eggs done every way imaginable, and fresh pastries that looked like they’d come straight out of a bakery. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I grabbed a plate, ready to dive in.

Jim, always the early riser, was already at the buffet, piling food onto his plate. “Morning, mate,” he said with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“You know me,” I replied, grabbing a bit of everything and then some. “Never one to turn down a good breakfast.”

We settled at a table, and I started working through my plate, enjoying the food and the banter. Before I could even make a dent in my meal, Noel appeared with a plate stacked high with more food. “Mate, you’ve got to try these pancakes,” he said, dropping them onto my plate without waiting for a reply.

I laughed, not thinking much of it. “Alright, alright, keep them coming.”

Banning, ever the strategist, chimed in as he sat down. “You’re missing out on the scrambled eggs. Here, have some more,” he said, adding a generous portion to my plate.

As we ate, the conversation flowed, and I found myself reminiscing about our old rugby trips. “Remember that all-you-can-eat steakhouse in Leeds?” I asked, chuckling. “I think I put away enough to feed a small army that night.”

Jim nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, and you still managed to play the next day. You’ve always had a hollow leg when it comes to food.”

They kept the food coming, and I kept eating, not really noticing how often one of them would toss something extra onto my plate. I was too caught up in the nostalgia, the friendly competition from our uni days, and the general excitement of the weekend.

But as I started on my third plate, I felt a familiar tightness in my stomach. The kind that crept in during those old eating challenges when I’d push myself just a bit too far. My belly was starting to feel heavy, the waistband of my jeans pressing uncomfortably against my skin. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the growing discomfort.

Still, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge—even a self-imposed one. I kept eating, even as my stomach began to bloat, pushing out slightly against my shirt. Each bite was a little slower, the food sitting heavily in my gut. I could feel my belly rounding out, the once-flat surface curving just a bit more with each mouthful.

“Feeling full yet?” Jim asked an innocent enough question, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“A bit,” I admitted, patting my stomach, which was now firm and slightly swollen. “But you know me—never one to quit while I’m ahead.”

The guys exchanged quick glances, subtle but not lost on me. I shrugged it off, thinking they were just reminiscing about old times like I was. But deep down, I had a nagging feeling that they were up to something. Still, I was too focused on the food and the fun to really care.

As I polished off the last of my pancakes, the tightness in my belly became more pronounced. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my slightly rounded stomach, feeling the pressure building inside. Regret started to creep in—a familiar sensation from those rugby days when I’d pushed my limits a bit too far. My shirt stretched a little tighter across my middle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should’ve shown some restraint.

But then I caught myself. I’d eaten way more than this before, especially during those wild university days. This was nothing compared to some of the eating challenges I’d taken on—and won. A bit of bloat wasn’t going to slow me down. I could handle it, no problem.

With that in mind, I shrugged off the discomfort. It was just breakfast, after all, and we had a whole day ahead of us. “Right, lads,” I said, standing up and stretching, trying to shake off the heaviness in my gut. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Jim clapped me on the back, and I could feel the tension in my overstuffed stomach as he did. “Let’s head out and explore, mate. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

I nodded, determined to push through the fullness. I reminded myself that this was all part of the fun, and I could definitely handle more. With one last glance at the table, I followed the guys out the door, ready to see what the day had in store.

As we headed out into the bustling streets of Amsterdam, the food still sitting heavily in my stomach, I told myself I was just being paranoid. These guys were my best friends—they wouldn’t pull anything on me, especially not right before my wedding.

After finishing breakfast, we decided to take in some of the sights. Amsterdam was a beautiful city, and I was excited to explore it with my best mates. The weather was perfect—clear skies and a gentle breeze, making it an ideal day for wandering around.

We started by visiting some of the city's iconic spots, like the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. But as we strolled along the canals and through the narrow streets, I could feel the heaviness in my belly from the massive breakfast easing a bit. By late morning, we found ourselves at one of the bustling local markets. The place was alive with vibrant colours, delicious smells, and the chatter of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to local delicacies. It was the kind of place where you could easily lose track of time, wandering from stall to stall, sampling the best that Amsterdam had to offer.

"Harry, check this out!" Banning called out, waving me over to a stall where a vendor was selling fresh stroopwafels, still warm from the griddle. He handed me one, and before I could even think about whether I was hungry, I found myself biting into the sweet, caramel-filled treat. It was delicious, the perfect balance of chewy and crunchy, and despite the fullness I still felt, I had to admit it was hard to resist.

"How about some cheese?" Noel chimed in, appearing beside me with a small platter of local Dutch cheeses. He popped a piece into my mouth before I could protest, grinning as I chewed. The rich, creamy flavours melted on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good it tasted.

As we moved through the market, the guys made sure I didn’t miss a thing. Every few steps, they’d find something new for me to try—a slice of fresh apple pie here, a handful of chocolate-covered nuts there. They seemed to be in a competition to see who could find the most delicious treats, and I was the unwitting contestant.

“Harry, you’ve got to try these!” Jim called out, holding up a tray of poffertjes, tiny Dutch pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. He handed me the tray, and before I knew it, I was popping the fluffy little pancakes into my mouth, one after another.

With each bite, my belly grew heavier, the tightness from breakfast now back and mixed with the new wave of food. But the guys kept bringing me more, their excitement and enthusiasm contagious. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, watching as I dutifully sampled everything they put in front of me.

At one point, I realised I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. “Guys, I think I’m good for now,” I said, laughing nervously as I held up a hand to stop another treat from making its way into my mouth.

“Fuck that!” Banning said, laughing. “We’re just getting started. You’ve got to experience everything, mate!”

Despite my growing discomfort, I couldn’t help but go along with it. After all, this was supposed to be a weekend of indulgence, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil the fun. So I kept eating, letting the guys guide me from stall to stall, each new bite adding to the growing pressure in my belly.

By the time we were ready to leave the market, I could barely keep track of everything I’d eaten. My stomach felt impossibly full, a heavy, warm weight pressing against my waistband. As we walked away, I noticed the guys exchanging amused glances, but they didn’t say anything, and I didn’t push it.

As we left the market, I was feeling stuffed from all the sampling, but the guys weren't done with me yet. Just as we were about to head back towards the city centre, Banning spotted a stall selling fresh pastries. The aroma of warm, buttery dough filled the air, making my mouth water despite the heaviness already sitting in my gut.

“Hold up, lads,” Banning said, veering off toward the stall. “We can’t leave without taking some of these with us!”

Before I could protest, he was at the counter, ordering a large bag of assorted pastries—croissants, danishes, and something that looked like a massive cinnamon roll, all warm and fresh from the oven.

“Here you go, Harry,” he said, shoving the bag into my hands with a grin. “Something to snack on as we walk.”

I chuckled, trying to hide my unease at the thought of eating anything more. “You sure you guys don’t want to share these?”

“Oh, we’ll help,” Jim said, but I noticed the sly smile on his face. “But you’ve got to lead the charge, mate. You’re the groom, after all.”

With no real way to refuse without seeming like a party pooper, I sighed and reached into the bag. The croissant I pulled out was soft and flaky, practically melting in my hands. I took a bite, the buttery richness spreading across my tongue, and I had to admit—it was damn good.

As we walked, I found myself nibbling on the pastries, more out of habit than hunger. The guys encouraged me with every bite, grabbing a pastry here and there, but always making sure the majority of them ended up in my hands.

By the time we reached our next destination, the bag was nearly empty, and I felt like I was carrying a lead weight in my belly. The waistband of my jeans was digging into my skin, and I subtly tried to adjust it to relieve some of the pressure. The guys, of course, were loving every minute of it, exchanging knowing looks as I dutifully finished off the last pastry. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were up to something, but for now, all I could focus on was the heavy, bloated sensation in my gut. It was hard to believe I could still stand, let alone keep eating, but with the lads around, I knew there was no way I’d get out of it. 

After leaving the market with my belly full of pastries, we found ourselves wandering through the winding streets of Amsterdam again. The city was buzzing with life, tourists mingling with locals, and the smell of food and drink filled the air. My stomach was still groaning from all the food I'd packed into it, but when the guys suggested stopping for some beers, I figured it might help take the edge off.

“Let’s hit up a few local breweries,” Jim suggested, his eyes lighting up. “We can’t leave Amsterdam without trying some of the best beer in the world.”

I agreed, hoping that a few drinks might dull the ache in my overstuffed belly. The first brewery we hit was small and cosy, with wooden tables and an impressive selection of local brews. The guys ordered a round of pints, and I gladly accepted mine, taking a long, deep sip. The cold, bitter beer slid down my throat, and I could feel it spreading warmth through my chest.

The first pint went down easily, and for a moment, I almost forgot how full I was. The alcohol worked its magic, numbing the uncomfortable pressure in my stomach. The guys were in high spirits, laughing and joking as we finished our beers and moved on to the next brewery.

By the time we reached the third stop, I was starting to feel a bit more relaxed. The bloated sensation in my gut was still there, but the beer had taken the edge off. Each point seemed to settle on top of the food in my belly, adding to the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my body.

The guys were keeping pace with me, ordering pints at each stop and making sure I always had one in my hand. I knew I should slow down, but the alcohol was doing its job, and I found myself caring less and less about how full I was. Instead, I focused on enjoying the moment, the camaraderie, and the laughter of my best friends.

At the fifth brewery, the drinks started to catch up with me. My head was buzzing, and the bloated feeling in my stomach was returning, more pronounced than before. I tried to keep up with the guys, but I could feel my belly straining against the waistband of my jeans, each sip of beer adding to the swelling pressure.

I glanced down at my gut, now noticeably rounder and heavier than it had been earlier in the day. The fullness was almost overwhelming, but the beers had numbed me enough that I could push through it, at least for a while longer.

Jim noticed me looking at my stomach and clapped me on the back. “You alright, mate? You’re keeping up like a champ!”

I managed a grin, even though I could feel the tightness in my belly with every breath. “Yeah, just feeling it a bit,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done with the tour,” Noel said, raising his glass. “Just a couple more, and then we can grab some food to soak it all up.”

The mention of food made my stomach churn, but I pushed the thought aside and lifted my pint in a toast. As we moved on to the final stop, I could feel the beers sloshing around inside me, mingling with the pastries and everything else I’d consumed that day. 

But the guys were right—the beers had dulled the ache, at least for now, and I was too buzzed to care about what might come next.

By the time we reached the final brewery on our tour, my belly had become an undeniable presence—both to me and, I suspected, to anyone who glanced in my direction. It felt like a boulder, heavy and firm, pressing outwards against the fabric of my shirt. The once-flat surface was now a taut, rounded dome, the skin stretched tight and smooth. Every step I took made it sway slightly, a reminder of just how much I’d eaten.

I rubbed my swollen middle, trying to ease the growing pressure. Suddenly, a deep belch forced its way up, loud and unexpected. The guys turned, grinning, and immediately erupted into cheers.

“There he is!” Noel laughed, clapping me on the back, which only made my belly slosh uncomfortably. “That’s the spirit, mate!”

Another belch rumbled up, and this time I didn’t even try to hold it back. The guys whooped and cheered even louder, egging me on as I laughed along with them.

“Keep ‘em coming!” Banning shouted, raising his pint in a mock toast.

I shook my head, grinning as yet another burp escaped me. The relief was temporary, though, as the pressure inside me continued to build. Every step made my belly jiggle slightly, and I could feel just how bloated I was becoming. The gas from all that beer wasn’t helping, either, making me feel even more stuffed than I already was.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The lads were loving it, and there was something satisfying about knowing I could still outdo them, just like in the old days. Even if my stomach felt like it was about to burst, the cheers and laughter made it all worth it.

Despite the discomfort, there was a part of me that was fascinated by how much my body had changed in just a few short hours. My normally lean frame had been overtaken by this massive, swollen belly, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer volume I’d managed to pack away.

The guys noticed, too. I caught Banning’s eye as he glanced at my gut, and he grinned, clearly impressed. “That’s one hell of a belly, Harry,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

Jim nodded in agreement, raising his pint in a toast. “To Harry’s belly,” he said with a laugh. “May it keep growing!”

The others joined in, their laughter filling the air as I gave a half-hearted chuckle. I could feel my stomach stretching even more as I took another sip of beer, the pressure building to a point that was almost unbearable.

As we finished our drinks, I leaned back in my chair, trying to find some relief from the tightness. My belly was now a prominent, round sphere, pressing outwards with a fullness that I couldn’t ignore. It was a strange mix of discomfort and pride—I’d never seen myself like this before, and despite the ache, there was something almost amusing about the sheer size of my belly.

By early afternoon, I was starting to feel the effects of our beer-filled morning. My head was buzzing pleasantly, and my steps were just a bit slower as we made our way through the bustling streets. I was thinking about suggesting a quick stop back at the hotel to freshen up, but before I could, Noel was already leading us toward our next destination.

“We’ve got a special lunch spot lined up, Harry,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Proper local place. None of that touristy crap.”

I was too relaxed to argue, letting him steer me down a side street and into a large, rustic-looking restaurant. The inside was all dark wood and heavy beams, with long communal tables and the rich smell of roasting meat filling the air. My stomach rumbled in spite of the heaviness I was already feeling, and I figured a good meal might help soak up some of the beer.

We found a spot at the end of one of the tables, and Noel didn’t even bother with menus. “We’ll take four of your specials,” he told the waitress with a wink, and she nodded, jotting it down before disappearing into the kitchen.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing around at the other diners. Most of them were locals, digging into plates piled high with food, glasses of cider clinking together in toasts. It was lively, warm, and exactly the kind of place that made you feel at home, even halfway across the world.

“So, what’s the special?” I asked, eyeing Noel suspiciously.

“Wait and see,” he grinned, taking a long pull from the glass of cider that had just been set in front of him. “You’re gonna love it.”

Moments later, the food arrived, and my eyes widened as the waitress set a huge platter in front of each of us. There, in the centre, was a whole roasted chicken, crispy and golden, surrounded by a mountain of fresh bread and a full litre of cider.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, staring at the feast. It looked incredible, but there was no way I could finish all that. “You guys trying to kill me?”

Banning smirked, already tearing into his bread. “Consider it a challenge.”

“Come on, Harry,” Jim chimed in, pulling a hunk of chicken off the bone. “You said you were hungry this morning.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean all day,” I laughed, even as I reached for my fork. The smell of the roasted chicken was too tempting to resist, and I figured I could at least make a dent in it.

We dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites of juicy chicken and sips of the strong, dry cider. The bread was warm and crusty, perfect for soaking up the rich drippings from the chicken, and despite my full stomach, I found myself going back for more, over and over.

The guys were relentless, though, nudging the bread my way whenever I slowed down, refilling my cider glass before I’d even finished it. Every time I thought I was done, Jim would carve off another piece of chicken and drop it onto my plate, or Noel would push the bread basket back toward me with a grin.

“You’ve got to try this with the cider,” Noel insisted, handing me a slice of bread slathered in the drippings. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

I took the bread, biting into it with a mix of enjoyment and trepidation. It was delicious, of course, but I was starting to reach the point where every bite felt like a struggle. My stomach was stretched tight, the combination of beer, cider, and food weighing me down.

But there was something infectious about their enthusiasm, the way they kept the mood light and fun, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. These were my best mates, and they were making sure I had the time of my life. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?

“Only the best for you,” Noel added with a wink, though there was a glint in his eye that made me wonder just how much more they had planned for me.

After finishing the meal, I leaned back in my chair, feeling utterly stuffed. My usually firm belly was now uncomfortably stretched, the tightness pressing against my shirt. The button on my jeans felt like it was about to pop, and I had to loosen my belt a notch to alleviate some of the pressure.

The full feeling wasn’t just in my stomach but seemed to radiate through my entire body. Every bite of the juicy chicken and every piece of bread had added to the bloated sensation, and the cider had only intensified it. My stomach was protruding noticeably, an unfamiliar softness replacing the tight abs I’d worked so hard to maintain. It felt heavy, like a weight pressing down from within.

I looked around at my friends, trying to ignore the discomfort, but the sight of their grins and the way they patted their own full bellies didn’t help. “I think I might have overdone it,” I admitted with a chuckle, rubbing my distended stomach.

“No way, mate,” Jim said, giving me a friendly thump on the back. “You’re just getting into the spirit of things.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to stay in top form,” Noel added, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You don’t want to be the one to miss out.”

Despite the lighthearted teasing, I could barely move, feeling the fullness with every breath. I glanced down at my bulging belly, the fabric of my shirt straining against the roundness. It was a far cry from the trim figure I was used to seeing.

As we finally left the restaurant, I had to walk slowly, my steps deliberate and careful. Each movement reminded me of just how much I’d eaten, and I knew that if I didn’t get some relief soon, the discomfort would only grow. But with the guys still in high spirits, I knew the day was far from over, and whatever they had planned next, I’d have to muster the energy to keep up.

As we left the restaurant, the afternoon started to blur together. The combination of food and cider had left me pleasantly tipsy, and the usual sharpness of my thoughts had softened. My bloated stomach felt heavy, but the excitement of the city kept me moving, albeit at a slower pace.

After the epic lunch, I was convinced I couldn't possibly eat another bite. My stomach was so full and bloated that it felt like a lead weight was strapped to me, each step making my distended gut jiggle slightly under my shirt.

We started walking again, heading toward the canals for a leisurely afternoon tour. The sun was shining, reflecting off the water as we strolled along the cobblestone streets. I tried to focus on the sights—the charming, narrow buildings, the boats gliding by—but the heavy, stuffed feeling in my gut was impossible to ignore. Every step made me acutely aware of just how much space my belly was taking up, stretching my shirt tight across the firm, rounded expanse.

We hadn’t gone far before we passed a street vendor selling fresh Bitterballen. The savoury aroma of deep-fried goodness filled the air, making my stomach rumble despite the fullness. Bitterballen are traditional Dutch snacks, deep-fried balls filled with a rich, creamy beef or veal ragout, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re often enjoyed with a dollop of mustard.

Noel, ever the enthusiast, was already haggling with the vendor before I could even process what was happening. “Harry’s got to try these!” he said, handing over a few euros and grabbing a serving of the hot, golden balls.

“Mate, I’m so full I can barely move,” I protested weakly, but Noel just grinned and handed me a paper cone filled with Bitterballen.

“Come on, you’ve got room for one more,” he said, winking. “It’s part of the experience.”

I took the cone and popped one of the Bitterballen into my mouth. The crispy exterior gave way to a rich, creamy filling that was both indulgent and comforting. Despite the tightness in my belly, the flavour was irresistible. With each bite, I could feel the food settling heavily on top of everything else I’d eaten, adding to the relentless pressure in my gut.

We continued along the canal, and it wasn’t long before Jim spotted another vendor—this time selling churros dusted with cinnamon sugar. He practically sprinted over, eager to buy a bag for me before Banning could get there first.

“Here you go, Harry,” Jim said, thrusting the warm bag into my hands. “You’ve got to keep your energy up!”

I stared at the churros, my stomach groaning in protest at the mere thought of eating more. But the guys were watching me expectantly, their excitement palpable. I couldn’t let them down, so I forced myself to take a bite.

The churro was crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and coated with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. It was delicious, but as I swallowed, I felt my belly swell even more, the tightness becoming almost unbearable. Each bite seemed to expand my gut further, stretching the skin to its limits.

“Harry, you’re a machine!” Banning laughed, clapping me on the back as I forced down the last of the churros. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

Neither did I. My stomach was now so full that it was starting to feel rock-hard, a firm, rounded dome that pushed out from under my shirt with every breath. The waistband of my jeans was cutting painfully into my sides, and I could feel my skin pulling tight over the swollen mass of my belly. I wanted to stop, to sit down and let my overstuffed gut settle, but the guys weren’t having any of it.

We passed another vendor, this one selling warm, cheesy croquettes, and before I could even protest, Banning had bought a handful and was offering them to me.

“Last ones, I promise,” he said with a mischievous grin, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was far from finished.

I took one, biting into the crispy, gooey centre, and immediately felt another surge of fullness. My stomach was now a tight, distended ball, and each bite made it feel like I was stretching it to the breaking point. But the guys kept egging me on, practically shoving the croquettes into my hands as we walked.

By the time we finally finished the canal tour, my belly was truly enormous—a swollen, overfilled sphere that jutted out in front of me, heavy and round. The tightness was almost unbearable, and I could barely stand up straight, the weight of my gut pulling me forward with every step. 

And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t help but laugh along with the guys, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. My friends were practically fighting over who got to feed me next, and I was helpless to stop them. My once-lean frame had been transformed into something out of a cartoon, my shirt now riding up to expose the pale, stretched skin of my bloated belly.

As we headed back toward the city centre, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. The day was still young, and the guys seemed determined to see just how much more they could cram into me. And as much as I wanted to protest, I knew deep down that I wasn’t going to stop them.

By the time the afternoon sun started to dip, I was struggling. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the heavy, swollen mass of my belly swaying in front of me, throwing off my balance. It had gone from feeling full and stretched to being outright painful, a tight, solid ball that was almost too much to bear. The guys were still in high spirits, laughing and joking as we walked, but I was finding it hard to keep up. 

"Guys," I groaned, finally coming to a stop and placing a hand on my distended gut. "I need a break. Can we head back to the hotel for a bit? Just a quick snooze, let my stomach settle."

I was expecting some pushback, but surprisingly, they all nodded in agreement. Maybe they could see the strain on my face, or maybe they were just ready for a break too. Either way, we turned in the direction of the hotel, and I started to imagine the sweet relief of lying down and letting my poor, overworked belly rest.

But of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple.

As we rounded a corner, we passed a small, bustling shop with a line of people snaking out the door. The smell of fried potatoes and various toppings filled the air, and Jim’s eyes lit up when he spotted the sign.

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing my arm and pointing toward the shop. “This is the place I’ve been telling you about! They make these famous fries with all sorts of toppings. We’ve got to try it.”

I felt a knot of dread tighten in my already cramped stomach. “Jim, I’m seriously about to burst here. I don’t think I can fit anything else in.”

But Jim wasn’t having it. “Come on, Harry, you can’t come all the way to Amsterdam and not try this. It’s part of the experience! We’ll just get one big platter to share, no big deal.”

Banning and Noel were already nodding along enthusiastically, and before I could argue any further, they were steering me toward the door. Inside, the place was a fry-lover’s paradise—massive trays of golden fries, each topped with a ridiculous amount of extras, from melted cheese to pulled pork, jalapeños, and creamy sauces.

We ordered the biggest platter they had, a monstrosity as wide as the table itself, piled high with fries and every topping imaginable. It was the sort of thing meant for a group of a dozen, not four guys who had already been eating all day. The sight of it alone made my stomach lurch in protest.

I tried to push back. “Guys, seriously, this is insane. I can’t eat all this.”

But Banning grinned at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll help, don’t worry. But you’ve got to at least give it a shot, Harry. Think of it as a challenge.”

I knew there was no way out, not with all three of them looking at me like that. So, with a resigned sigh, I picked up a fork and dug in.

The first few bites were delicious, the crispy fries and rich toppings a perfect combination. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach stretching further, pushing against my waistband and straining the limits of my shirt. The tightness that had been a constant presence all day was now bordering on unbearable, a pressure that made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer fullness of my gut.

Still, the guys kept urging me on, and somehow, I kept going. They were making a show of eating their share, but it was clear that most of the food was ending up in front of me. Every time I slowed down, they’d shove another forkful of loaded fries in my direction, laughing and cheering me on like it was some sort of competition.

“Harry’s taking the lead!” Noel shouted at one point, and the others whooped in agreement. 

I felt like I was in a daze, barely able to comprehend what I was doing as I continued to eat. My belly was now so bloated that it was pressing against the edge of the table, a round, firm dome that seemed to be growing larger with each bite. My shirt was stretched tight across the distended curve of my gut, and I could feel the seams straining with every breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I dropped my fork, unable to eat another bite. The platter was mostly empty, but my stomach felt like it was about to burst. I leaned back in my chair, groaning as the pressure in my belly intensified. It was a strange mix of pain and satisfaction, the kind of fullness that made it impossible to do anything but sit there and let my body digest.

The guys, of course, were loving it. They were all grins and high-fives, clearly proud of themselves for pushing me to this point.

“You’re a legend, Harry,” Banning said, clapping me on the back with a laugh. “I don’t know how you did it.”

I didn’t either. All I knew was that my belly was now so swollen and distended that I could barely move. It jutted out in front of me like a solid, round ball, the skin stretched tight and smooth over the massive bulge. I could feel every inch of it, the fullness pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe, let alone think.

As we finally left the fry shop and started heading back to the hotel, I could barely keep up, my gait slow and awkward as I tried to accommodate the heavy mass of my gut. It felt like I was carrying a bowling ball strapped to my stomach, the weight of it pulling me forward with every step.

And yet, as uncomfortable as I was, there was a part of me that couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of my belly. I’d never been this full in my life, never even imagined it was possible to eat this much. It was almost impressive in a way, and despite everything, I found myself laughing along with the guys as we made our way back to the hotel.

By the time we finally made it back to the hotel, I was exhausted. My belly was so full and heavy that each step felt like a challenge, and the thought of just lying down was the only thing keeping me going. As we entered the room, the guys were still buzzing with energy, laughing and recounting the day’s events, but I could hardly focus on their words. All I could think about was getting out of my too-tight clothes and giving my aching stomach some relief.

I headed straight for the bathroom, barely pausing to acknowledge the banter going on behind me. Closing the door, I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath as I let the tension drain from my shoulders. Then, with a grunt of discomfort, I began the laborious task of peeling off my clothes.

First, I unbuttoned my jeans, which had been digging into my sides for hours. The moment the button popped open, my belly surged forward, free from its confines at last. I couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the sensation—the relief was immediate, but the sheer weight of my gut was startling. I tugged the waistband down over my hips, letting the jeans fall to the floor, before yanking off my shirt, which had been stretched to its limits.

Once I was finally free of my clothes, I turned to face the mirror, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. My belly—normally flat and firm—was now a completely different shape, swollen and rounded out in front of me like a tightly inflated balloon. The curve of it was almost shocking, jutting out so far that it seemed impossible it was my own body. My skin was stretched taut over the massive dome, with the light fur that usually covered my stomach now spread thin and sparse across the smooth, distended surface. 

I reached out tentatively, running a hand over the swell of my gut. It felt solid and unyielding, the kind of fullness that left no room for anything else. My fingers brushed against the fine hair that coated my belly, usually soft but now pulled taut over the curve, emphasising the tightness of my skin. The fur seemed almost out of place on such a massively bloated belly, a reminder of how much my body had changed in just a few short hours.

I took a step back, turning slightly to see my profile, and my eyes widened at the sight. The curve of my belly was even more pronounced from the side, a heavy, rounded bulge that hung low and full. It almost didn’t look real—like something out of a cartoon, exaggerated and impossible. And yet, there it was, a testament to just how much I had consumed.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at myself in the mirror. I knew I’d eaten a lot, but seeing the evidence in front of me like this was almost surreal. I couldn’t believe how much I’d managed to pack away—how much my belly had expanded to accommodate it all. I looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball whole, my normally lean frame now dominated by this massive, swollen gut.

A mix of shock and disbelief washed over me. I’d seen my belly bloated before—college eating challenges had often left me stuffed, but never like this. This was on another level entirely. I could feel the weight of it, the sheer fullness pressing down on me, making it hard to stand upright. Every movement made my gut jiggle slightly, a constant reminder of how tightly packed it was with food.

Despite the discomfort, there was something almost fascinating about it. The sight of my body so utterly transformed, my belly swollen beyond anything I’d ever thought possible, was strangely compelling. It was as if I’d crossed some invisible line, entered a new territory where my body was no longer my own but something else entirely—something massive and insatiable.

I ran my hand over the curve of my gut one more time, feeling the tightness beneath my palm, the way my skin stretched over the fullness. Then, with a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed back into the room, where the guys were waiting. 

I stumbled out of the bathroom, still in a daze from the sight of my bloated belly, and made my way to the bed. My legs were heavy, my body protesting with every step as the weight of my overstuffed gut dragged me down. As soon as I reached the edge of the bed, I let myself fall backward, the mattress groaning beneath me as I sprawled out on top of the covers. The sensation of finally lying down was a relief beyond words. My belly, round and tight, stretched upward, and I could feel the strain in my skin as it tried to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food I’d packed away.

I let out a long, contented sigh, resting a hand on the taut dome of my stomach. It was firm to the touch, barely giving under the pressure of my fingers. My eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, I was lost in the sensation of being so full, so heavy, so utterly stuffed.

The sound of laughter pulled me from my reverie. The guys were still buzzing with energy, moving around the room as they started to get ready for whatever was coming next. Jim was the first to strip off his shirt, revealing a flat but slightly rounded belly—nothing compared to mine, but still showing signs of the indulgence we’d all participated in today. He patted it with a grin, turning to show it off to Banning and Noel.

"Look at this," Jim said, chuckling. "I’m usually flat as a board, but today... man, I’m starting to show a little gut. Must have been all those pastries at the market."

Banning, who was already down to his boxers, laughed and flexed his own stomach, which was a bit bloated  than usual but nowhere near as distended as mine. "Yeah, I’m feeling it too. I think I’m still carrying around half that platter of fries we demolished earlier."

Noel joined in, lifting his shirt to reveal his own slightly swollen belly. "Same here. It’s like we’ve all turned into little food balloons, but I gotta say, Harry definitely wins the prize for the biggest gut." 

They all turned to look at me, sprawled out on the bed with my massive, bloated belly on full display. The contrast between their smaller, slightly rounded stomachs and my own overstuffed gut was almost comical. I looked like I’d swallowed a whole watermelon, while they’d only nibbled on a few snacks.

Jim grinned and gave his own belly another pat. “How are you even still conscious after all that? You’ve gotta be on the verge of passing out, mate.”

I could only groan in response, too full and too tired to form a coherent reply. My belly felt like it was about to burst, every breath a reminder of how far I’d pushed myself today. But despite the discomfort, there was a strange sense of camaraderie in the room, a bond forged through our shared gluttony.

The guys continued to joke and laugh, comparing their own bellies and teasing me about mine, but I barely heard them. All I could focus on was the heavy, aching fullness that filled every inch of my midsection. I rubbed my hand over the curve of my stomach, trying to soothe the tightness, but it was no use. I was beyond stuffed, my gut stretched to its absolute limit.

Even so, as I lay there, I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. I had no idea how I’d let myself get talked into eating so much, but in some weird way, it had been worth it. The guys were having the time of their lives, and despite my current state, I couldn’t deny that a part of me was enjoying it too.

For part two

For more of my stories click here

[peachesofteal]

Peachy I am so in love with the dead disco Omegaverse AU! It absolutely plays on my heartstrings!

Can we have a continuation of the story so far? What happens when Darling finally comes off of her heat—I’m ready for the tough conversation!!!

-💀👻

18+ MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / mature themes

takes place after this

Your head is stuffed with cotton. It’s full of nonsense, heavy and confused, like you’re drifting between a dream and reality, only one thing painfully clear.

Your heat is fading away, you’re nestled between two very warm bodies. It’s a hazy kind of warmth, the type that hangs heavy in the air, and your face presses further into the searing temperature of skin, seeking, smelling. You’re drinking in the scent of your alphas, blinking to try to clear your eyesight in the dark. The smell of them, woodsmoke and balsam, sinks through your consciousness until you’re shifting restlessly, detangling your limbs from the web of bodies, pushing and pulling against their grip.

You come to reality very quickly, and fear floods your nervous system.

No. No, no, no- you… you didn’t, they… they can’t have been here. They shouldn’t have been here-

“Omega.” Johnny murmurs against the back of your head, hand holding your hip steady, stroking circles into your skin to soothe you, keeping you in place. “Ye with us?”

You whimper. You can’t help it. It comes second nature, slipping out before you can stop it. Your muscles seize, like they’re preparing to spur you into action, and the room spins.

“No.” Simon murmurs. “Settle, darling.” He starts up a deep hum from his chest, harmonics vibrating through his bones to yours, genetics and hormones reacting to the pull of his designation, your body going boneless between them. “That’s it, good girl.”

Something is wrong. Beneath their efforts at producing a calming, soothing scent and atmosphere, there’s a tinge of anxiety. Of worry. Of distress.

You swallow.

“What’s going on?” You whisper, clenching your eyes shut.

You don’t want to face this. You don’t want to hear it… the truth. What they’ll say to you. About you.

Whispers of your past shudder across your mind, memories that you’ve worked so hard to keep away, locked up in a little box somewhere in the back of your consciousness.

You’re dirty. Your heats are dirty. You’re disgusting, like all omegas. Useless. Nothing. Just a thing to be bred, to be used. You have no value.

“I need ye to take a deep breath for me.” Johnny coaches, hand nestling against your breastbone from behind. When you do, it’s a struggle, jagged and rough. His lips find the shell of your ear, breathe fanning over your cheek. “Another one, darling. Try again-“ your ribs expand, and he kisses you sweetly. “Good. That’s it, just like that.”

“Are you hungry?” Simon asks, and you nod automatically. You’re starving, and they’ve most likely been listening to your stomach rumble for hours. He gives you a gentle smile. “I’m going to start some breakfast, and Johnny’ll get you in a shower in a minute.” You nod again. You feel like jelly, sore all over, and you imagine you probably haven’t been out of this bed in days.

The door opens, orange dusk filtering in from the living room as Johnny gives you another kiss along your jaw and sits up, pulling you close.

“Alright darling. Let’s get in the shower.”

Simon made way too much breakfast.

All your favorites, which is a good sign, you guess. And Johnny is glued to you, holding you in his lap on the couch while you eat, moving your plate and your coffee cup to and from the table to your hands.

Maybe this means they won’t throw you out.

“So.” You try to smile but it feels forced and wrong. “Am I in trouble?”

“No.” Johnny vows.

“No, of course not.” Simon agrees, pulling the plate from your fingers with a gentle tug. “But there’s a lot we need to talk about.” Your nose tingles with the threat of tears, and you fist your fingers together.

The silence is loud for a long moment. Uncomfortable, until Simon breaks it.

“I’m not going to ask why you didn’t tell us, because we know.”

The tears start immediately. You’re breaking under the weight of your shame, your fear, your past. It’s too heavy, and it hurts, ice in your chest like you’re dying.

“You know?”

“I called your doctor.” What? He what? Anger, and panic wells up in the back of your throat.

“You had no right-“

“You left the flat in the middle of your heat, in a near feral state. We found you on the street with another Alpha trying to lay a claim to you. I’m sorry for invading your privacy, but I’m not sorry for protecting you. We needed to know what was going on.” You tamp down the urge to jump to your feet and run out the front door. Johnny keeps his arms firm around your body, and you press against him anxiously.

You can’t do this. They’ll want to talk about it. They’ll want to know everything. They’ll know you’re dirty.

“Darling, hey. Look at me.” It’s Simon again, trying to catch your eye. “Everything is alright. There is nothing, nothing that you could ever do, or ever tell us, that would make us love you any less.” He’s so soft with his words, trying to coax you, but your head swings back and forth in denial.

“That’s not true.” You have to get out of here. Something is banging at the brink of your mind… something wild and raw, something trying to claw its way in. It’s violent… and feral. “I have to go.”

“What?” Johnny tugs you in tighter, but you thrash against the feeling, hysteria bubbling up in your stomach.

“Easy.” Simon wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing just a bit. “Why is that not true?” When you don’t answer, he sighs. “Omega.” It’s a pull, the command of an Alpha, and you grit your teeth.

“I… I was always taught that heats are wrong, that Omegas are useless. That I’m-“

“No.” Johnny stops you. “There’s nothing wrong with ye.”

“You don’t understand.” You protest, and they both watch you mournfully.

Johnny presses his lips to your hair, and Simon pulls your hand into his.

“So tell us.”

[wildechildwrites]

Promise

John Price/Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: lil bit of angst

No Use of Y/N

Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Your husband comes home unexpectedly with his team in tow

A/N: *Posts something* *Disappears for another four months*

AO3 Link: Promise

John’s posture visibly relaxes as he steps through the front door, knots in his shoulders unraveling as he rounds the corner and spots you. The sun’s setting, golden rays filtering through the kitchen window, wrapping everything in a warm glow. You’re stirring a pot on the stove, humming to yourself, and as you turn to look at him, lips curving softly, John murmurs a hello, voice reverent with poignant adoration.

Your bright eyes flick from his to the three curious pairs behind him, and you click your tongue in disapproval. “John, if you'd called ahead, I could've ensured I made enough for your guests.”

“They're not staying long, love, just–”

“Oh, nonsense,” you cut him off, waving your hand as if to brush away the thought, tone authoritative. “You sort your business, and I'll see what can be done to stretch the meal. Honestly John, what kind of first impression is that; me turning out your boys without dinner?”

You cross the warmly lit kitchen and give him a quick peck on the cheek before introducing yourself to his companions, a bright smile on your face. Soap hasn't quite managed to pick his jaw off the floor, so Ghost leans over and shuts it for him. Gaz smiles back at you, recovering from his shock with more ease as he extends a hand to you.

“I'm Kyle,” he says keenly, and the stormy face of his captain, standing just out of your eye line, makes him quickly drop your hand. “The boys call me Gaz.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Gaz.” You reply, genuine warmth threading through your voice before you turn towards the two other men. “You must be Ghost and Soap.”

“Aye,” Soap replies after a beat, “Price never mentioned he had a…” he trails off awkwardly, and Ghost smacks the back of his head. You laugh lightly, not having to look at your husband to feel the glare he’s shooting his soldiers.

You reach your hand towards John, and he tangles his fingers in yours automatically, pulling you towards him. You give him a playful smile before turning back towards his boys. “He’s a big advocate of separating work from home. Won’t even let me call him Captain.”

The suggestive lilt in your voice makes the men duck their heads, and you turn to John, watching the tips of his ears turn pink with barely concealed glee.

“We’ll be in my study,” he grumbles.

The men can hear your laughter ringing as they head down the hall.

You can’t help the thread of anxiety twisting low in your stomach as you add more broth to the soup you’re making. The less you know, the better, but the unexpected presence of John’s entire team sits poorly with you. He didn’t even send you a warning text, entirely out of character, exacerbating your unease. Muffled voices filter through the walls, and you try to distract yourself, curbing your instinct to eavesdrop. The soup is simmering on the stove, so you go to the pantry and grab a box of brownie mix and a bag of chocolate chips, quickly mixing all the ingredients together and popping the pan in the oven.

You’re licking brownie batter off the spatula when John comes back into the kitchen, and you can tell by the expression on his face that you’re not going to like whatever he’s about to say. He takes large, quick strides towards you, and you manage to toss the spatula in the sink before he sweeps you into his wide arms, tugging you to his chest in a tight embrace. You inhale as deeply as you can, pulling the familiar scent of him into your lungs.

“I’ve got to go out of town.” He finally says gravely. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to contact you until what needs to be done is done.”

There’s a high price to being married to a military man. John’s gone more often than he’s not, and when he does slink back home to you, it’s always with new scars and fresh nightmares, things that weigh on him in a way you’ll never be able to comprehend.

You know, with a sort of inevitable finality, that John won’t get to retire. It’s not in his nature, and no matter how much he loves you; he loves the job more. He’ll come home in a box one day, and every time he leaves, you have to accept it might be the last time you’ll see him.

Unwanted tears gather in the corners of your eyes, and you give yourself a moment, face pressed against John’s chest, willing yourself to be strong. Your voice is muffled when you finally speak, unwilling to pull away from the comfort of his arms.

“There’s a go bag full of clean clothes in our closet. When do you need to leave?”

John squeezes you tighter against him, burying his nose in your hair. His heartbeat is loud in your ears, steady as always.

“We’ll stay for dinner, but we’ll be leaving tonight. I’m so sorry, love.”

You dance around each other like it’s a normal night, basking in the warmth of the oven and his company, choosing to ignore the tug at your heart strings, the quiet sounds of his team filtering through the wall. You can feel his watchful eyes on you while you fill the bowls with generous scoops, but you pretend not to notice, humming to yourself with a cheer you don’t feel.

The timer on the oven dings, and you pull away, quickly turning so John can’t see the redness in your eyes. You know what you signed up for, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“I was going to make some grilled cheese to go with the soup, will you get them started?”

The silverware clinks merrily, the living room filled with the sound of quiet chatter. The table hasn’t been this crowded since two years ago, when you convinced your sister to come for a visit. She’d brought her little ones, and John had doted on them, acting so soft and attentive, making you absolutely melt. You see echoes of that same care in his interactions with his men, hidden beneath an artificial shell of severity.

“This migh’ just be the best soup I’ve ever tasted,” Soap pipes up, elbows tucked uncomfortably to avoid jostling Gaz, “I’da kept you a secret too, with cooking like this.”

“Johnny.” John’s voice is a hard warning, but he betrays himself with the slightest curve of a smile beneath his whiskers, a spark of pride in his eyes.

“There’s some soup left on the stove, if you boys are still hungry.” You smile. “And I’ve got brownies for dessert.”

The appreciative noise Soap makes borders on obscene. “Dinner and dessert? Do ya’ want another husband?”

The thud of John’s boot connecting with his Sergeant’s shin echoes through the room, and you try and fail to stifle a snort. Gaz quirks his eyebrow at you, humor dancing in his expression, and you let out a giggle before slapping your hand over your mouth self-consciously.

“Apologies.” Ghost pipes up dryly, inclining his head towards Soap. “We don’t have ‘im house trained yet.”

You let out another laugh. “It's alright, I'm still working on John.” The boys laugh, and your husband shoots you a look.

“You’re fostering insubordination, love.” He says gruffly, and you smile sweetly at him, grabbing his hand under the table and giving it a tight squeeze.

The men eat fast, faster than you’d like them to, the meal ending too quickly. Ghost and Soap clear the table, cracking dad jokes that make you roll your eyes good-naturedly, and Gaz plants himself solidly in front of the sink, ignoring your protests.

“Let me do the dishes,” he says stubbornly, an immovable brick wall, ignoring your attempts to shove him out of the way. “My mum would have a fit if she knew somebody cooked for me and I didn’t do the washing up.”

“I’m not going to discourage his good manners; he rarely gets to put ‘em to use. Come and sit with me for a minute.”

John’s leaning against the kitchen door frame, his warm eyes crinkled with amusement at the scene in front of him. You whirl around with a grumpy look.

“John, order him to let me take care of it,” you command, pointing at Gaz, and your husband just laughs, reaching out to grab your hand.

He leads you away from the bustle of the kitchen to his study, shutting the door behind him. His normally pristine desk is strewn with papers and maps, and you try and fail not to look too much, wondering what’s in Mexico that could need such urgent attention. John sits in the wide leather chair behind the desk and pulls you into his lap, burying his nose into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin. You both inhale deeply, folding into each other.

The silence is heavy. You’re too aware of the ticking clock, the inevitable goodbye. You’ve barely had him for a few hours, and then you’ll be alone again, in this house designed for the two of you, constantly listening for the familiar sound of footsteps, desperately waiting for the phone to ring.

“You know, love,” John murmurs, “If anything were to happen to me, the boys would make sure you're looked after. Kate too.” He pulls back to look at you, his expression earnest. “Made them swear to it.” Your stomach drops like a rock, the tears you’ve been fighting all night rising back to the surface. John's thoughts have been in the same place as yours, lingering on realities best left unacknowledged.

You choke around the lump in your throat. “I don’t need anyone looking after me. I just need you.” You wrap your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him. “Just come back home, John.” Your bottom lip wobbles, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, and he sighs mournfully.

“None of that, love. You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“Just–” you cut yourself off to smother a sob. “Just promise me you’ll always come home.” You want to beg him to stay, beg him to never leave you again, but you know he has to go. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be the man you married. You’ll settle for an unsustainable guarantee, worthless words with no force behind them. Your wedding ring sits heavy on your finger, a noose around your neck.

The lie sours in the air between you.

John’s gaze is melancholy. His thumb gently brushes away the tears making their way down your cheek, and he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

“I promise. Always.”

You walk the boys to the door, making sure they’ve got everything they need, slipping the last brownie to Soap when no one else is looking. You give your husband a tight hug, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before turning towards his men.

“It was nice to meet you all.” Your face is blotchy from your earlier tears, eyes still rimmed with red, but you smile as sincerely as you can.

Gaz reaches his hand out. “It was a pleasure. Thanks for dinner, it was delicious.”

You ignore the offered palm and pull him in for a hug, hoping it’s not overly familiar. The way Gaz relaxes into your arms tells you he needs it, and you give him an extra squeeze before pulling back. “You’re all welcome anytime you want a home cooked meal.”

When you turn to Soap, he sweeps you into his arms eagerly, crushing you tight enough against him to draw a strangled squeak from your lungs. “You’re a dead brilliant cook,” he says, voice oozing sincerity, “Price’ll have ta beat me out the door with a broom.”

“Johnny.” Your husband’s warning tone is enough for Soap to release you, grinning cheekily. You shoot John a reassuring look before turning towards your last guest.

Ghost eyes you warily, his posture unnaturally stiff. You open your arms slightly, tilting your head, a silent offering. There’s a beat, and then Ghost steps into the hug with the faux indifference of a moody teenager, throwing one arm carelessly over your shoulder. You have to stifle your urge to laugh. “Be safe,” you say softly, and there’s a shock of warmth in his icy stare even as he grunts noncommittally.

You’re plunged into empty silence when the men file out of the house. You watch them get into their cars, a bitter taste in your mouth. John turns to look back at you, saying something you can’t hear to his men before running back, slamming the front door behind him firmly. Your heart leaps.

“Forgot something,” he says, and grabs you, pulling you in for a searing kiss. You melt together, lips parting against his, arms automatically reaching up around his neck. He pulls back, and you tighten your grip around him.

“I love you,” it’s a desperate plea, an impossible ask.

“I love you, too.” John says, and his eyes slide to the door, strong fingers untangling himself from your hold.

When he leaves, he takes the warmth with him.

[vampcubus]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : the sub rengoku thirst i was talkin' about. just wanna fuck him stupid and watch him struggle to keep up, ya feel me? :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!kyojuro rengoku, fem!dom!reader, kyojuro’s raging breeding kink, dumbification, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight choking kink. :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 1k+

Moonlight filters into the room from the window, illuminating Kyojuro’s body in a silvery light. 

Kyojuro is hardly coherent by now, reduced to a dumb drooling puppy as your ass slaps against his thighs again and again, gummy walls squeezing him so snug it’s like you’re trying to milk him of every drop of cum. He’s eager to give it to you, fiery eyes all half-lidded and glossy, transfixed on your pretty pussy swallowing his cock. It’s maddening; how tight, hot, and perfect you feel wrapped around him.

“You’re stretching me out so much, Kyo. I love the way your cock feels inside me,” you praise, and his blond lashes flutter, head tipping further back.

“It’s yours — all yours, my love. ahh, it belongs to you. I belong to you.” He babbles nonsensically, hips finally starting to buck up into your vigorous bounces. “Use me for your pleasure.”

You can’t help but moan at that, twitching around him. Ultimately Kyojuro strives to please you, his pleasure is a byproduct of that desire. You can see it in the worship that gleams in those bright eyes, fixated on where your bodies meet.

“Want me to use you, huh?” you pant, rolling your hips in a circle. “Want me to ride you till I cum all over your fat cock?”

Kyojuro moans at that and his hips jut upwards into you with surprising force. 

“Yes, please,” he laughs breathlessly, and a grin tugs at your mouth corners though you try to fight it. His fucked-dumb smile is too infectious.

Even smiling, Kyojuro looks beautifully pathetic underneath you, hands grabbing uselessly at your hips. He’s holding rather than guiding, conscious not to disrupt your pace.

You peel one of his hands from your hip and guide his thumb to your clit, moaning delightedly when he swirls the rough pad over it in time with your thrusts. Your pussy squeezes around him and again his hips jolt, hitting that sweet spot perfectly. Your mouth falls open, hands bracing on his shoulders as you slam yourself up and down his cock with more vigor. 

Kyojuro starts making these urgent cries, his dick pulsing with need within you.

His thumb slurs over your clit for but a moment before he’s sobbing, “Please, may I cum with you?”

He might actually burst into tears if you refused him, balls full and heavy with a backlog of cum from being denied orgasm endlessly. Even in your delirious state, you find it in your heart to be merciful, eyes soft and adoring as you brush a few sweat-slicked strands of golden hair from his sticky forehead.

“Fill me up lots, Kyo,” you purr.

“Oh, gods-” His eyes roll back into his head at the mere implication, body screaming for release. “I will, I will!”

“Put a baby in me,” you whisper, and the strangled noise he makes in response is hardly human.

Yes, he’ll do that. He wants to make you a mommy, fill you to the brim with seed til you can’t hold anymore, see you swell with child – his child, he muses possessively. breed you, he wants to breed you.

He’s wound so tight, so close to snapping in two. Your soft fingers trace soothing shapes across his cheeks as your greedy cunt swallows him whole, your honeyed praises and the soft look on your face a stark contrast to how you devour him, take what you need from him without mercy. Something inside him aches, not out of longing but of love for you. He loves you to the point of pain, to madness.

“C-cumming, I’m-” 

He’s so loud when he finally cums, ropes and ropes spurting out of him in a warm stream, filling you entirely. The feeling makes you erupt with shivers, eyes half-lidded and watching intensely as he writhes and bucks, emptying his balls into you. His end inspires you to chase your own, a necklace of fingers encircling his throat as you fuck yourself on his cock with more enthusiasm. 

A white ring forms at the base of his cock as his cum starts to leak out, some sticking to your thighs as you move. His mewling is reduced to pathetic croaks as his head gets fuzzier and fuzzier, and he pinches his eyes shut at the overstimulation.

He feels you flutter around him and forces his eyes back open to watch you fall apart, going slack-jawed when finally you gush around him, hand tightening around his neck as you shake and moan. Your bouncing slows to a grind, fingers loosening around his throat, to which he gasps for air, but it’s stolen from him once again as he’s thrown violently into a second orgasm, back arching off the futon to meet you. 

It’s more intense this time, ravaging through him like nothing he’s ever felt before. It has to be your fault, you have to know what you do to him.

Kyojuro doesn’t realize he’s passed out until he comes to, blinking rapidly at your creased brows as you hover above him worriedly.

“There you are. Was too busy cumming my brains out to notice you fainted! You ok, baby?” you asked sheepishly, and Kyojuro can’t help but be entertained at the change in demeanor. His hand takes yours, fingers filling the empty spaces between your own and squeezing affectionately.

“More than ok, my love. You were wonderful as always — ah, careful w-we’re still…” he flinches when you shift in his lap, still stuffed full of his cock.

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” you giggle, that patronizing lilt returning to your voice. Kyojuro’s mouth goes dry, his cock twitching back to life within you. “You told me to use you, and I’m not finished using you yet.”

“Oh, then my apologies!” he chuckles heartily, it’s full of mirth… and a bit of righteous fear. “Feel free to-”

A pitiful sound leaves him as you start up again, your mixed fluids making it slippery and much too easy to return to a brutal pace. His honey-colored eyes gloss over, tongue falling out his mouth in a way that makes your loins throb.

You’ll be the death of me, he thinks. Though as he drools, begs, and fills you to the brim until he’s cumming dry, he concedes that a little death wouldn’t hurt.

[futurebird]

This entomologist does not exist.

I decided to find out if any progress had been made on the science behind why some ants are attracted to electrical fields. After filtering out exterminators (it's so demoralizing to search for information on creatures you love and find nothing but people who know nothing about them boasting about how they will kill them all) I found what looked like a blog. But, who the heck is "James Brown"? Never heard of the dude. Maybe he could be my new friend if he likes ants enough to blog about them!

As far as I can tell, these people are phantoms. That's cruel on multiple levels. If I was not familiar with this SEO (Search Engine Optimization) trick I'd spend time looking for them both (to politely tell them about the errors in their blog... which I would assume they would care about since they love insects.)

But, I know what this is now. It's probably the exterminators behind all of this. To get their page ranks up they need "legitimate" pages such as personal blogs to link to them. So they make fake versions of the blogs.

They are pretending to be *ME*

We are expected to take this kind of BS as "harmless gaming of the system." but I find it incredibly distrustful and hurtful. It's making it harder for people to find each other by putting all these fake people in the way. It's LIES the pages are full of half-true nonsense. It's making people know less and filling their heads with false facts.

And this kind of page is what you find FIRST in nearly all search engines. You won't find Alex Wild or the formiculture forum.

You find these mendacious SEO ghosts.

These fake pages ought to be blacklisted to oblivion. But, I don't see any search engines taking this seriously at all.

Not really in their interest to do that, is it? We need to make more noise about just how terrible these pages are. Fake experts? Fake people? Fake images? Fake facts?

Information pollution & fragmentation of natural networks of human learning. A rot on the body of human knowledge: any search engine that puts such pages at the top should be ashamed.

We had a very lively conversation about this on the fediverse (join us if you've been looking for a better kind of social media.)

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Lady Celestine: Navigator of the Constellations:

The Forgotten Hero of Yore

The Merlyn of the KBASW (AU) & the love of Arthur's life.

Just to be clear Merlyn & Celestine are the same person it's just her disguise when she goes out.

For: @kirbyoctournament

Character Overview/Personality: She's the combination of Merlin from Disney's Sword & the Stone, Queen Eclipsa from SVTFW, Willy Wonka from (Wonka 2023 ), and Merlin from (the 2008 TV series).

She's an optimist... many of her peers mistake it for being naivety but in reality she's well aware of the darkness in the world... she sees it every day with her powers. Since seeing so many terrible things in the future she treasures the present and is always grateful for the things she enjoys in the now. (Also there's another reason for this....)

And finds the joy in the darkest of times...

She likes to be overly prepared... And tend to keep (*hoard) things they might need... Often tends to hold things she doesn't really need. With Arthus side eying her "You really need to keep that."

"Don't look at me like that Wart... WE MAY NEED THIS HARPOON ONE DAY WHO KNOWS & YOU'LL THANK ME LATER !" *proceeds to carry bloody harpoon home... with Arthur facepalming himself*

They actually did end up using that harpoon 3 months later & Celestine rubbed it in Arthur's face for an entire week. This constant hoarding led her to the first iteration of the Dimensional Cape, which started as a dimensional bag to store all her stuff. (LMAO).

This brings me to Celestine's wisdom & sass: similar to Merlin (the series & Disney) is filled with cleverness & comebacks. When she's doing her diplomatic work and out and about she knows how to do it "gracefully."But when she transforms into Merlyn, she lets loose exactly how Merlin is when he becomes Dragoon. Has no filter and becomes a chaotic old man throwing shade left & right

She hates' cursing so as resulting in hilarious, nonsensical words to place them: Fiddle sticks, biscuits, sweet butter crumpets, etc ~

Her future sight has made her a very empathic person... knowing the suffering of others in her visions. Creating a very kind, caring individual who wants the best for everyone, for them to be happy.

Keep reading for extra content & lore: (Which include spoilers for KBASW so tread carefully!) Other than that please continue...

Lore related content: (If you just want a short read)

In Denial (Oldest lore)

What Kind of King's in My Blood (Background info)

Celestine is Merlyn: (Most Current lore)

And fair warning I low-key wrote a novel... but there's a special prize at the end if you read all of it. (Extended Lore)

Lady Celestine serves as a catalyst for the anime Kirby series...

Now Celestine can't predict the exact future... only show potential paths. But her powers can guide people to the outcome they want and the path that constantly changing.

Absolom made Celestine focus solely on her future vision and trained her personally... He tried to paint himself as this kind saintly father figure towards her... but in reality, wanted to monopolize her ability.

He tremendous amount of pressure on the poor girl...(Mother Gothel Style "Mother knows best) Believing the only thing that made her valuable was her future sight. And one more thing about Celestine... SHE HATED HER FUTURE VISION! She didn't just see the future... she experienced it! Feeling all the raw emotions of the scene.

However, Absolum would guilt-trip her: "Oh you don't want to let everyone down... you're the only one who can do this... you're so special... you can't disappoint everyone..:

Causing her to grit her teeth and bear with it... Absolum was like a father to her she couldn't say "No." Plus it's not like she could let them down... One day she had a terrible vision foreshadowing the demise of Shiver Star...

The people of Shiver Star were infected by Dark Matter's essence... Nightmare & his demons robbed them and stole all the planet's resources... while the people were possessed and had their life sources absorbed by Dark Matter.

Celestine immediately ran to the other Heroes of Yore & Absolum.... for this and assured the worried child they'd take care of this... "don't worry we'll use this information and take care of it."

And they didn't just take care of it... THEY MADE IT WORSE! Seeing an even more terrible vision appeared before her.

~

Celestine: Wait I thought you said you'd-

Absolum: Oh but my child we did you said that planet was a goner anyway... they were already possessed.... it would be so wasteful if all those resources would fall to Nightmare...

Sir Uther: We cleared out the planet before Nightmare did. And killed all of those who were going to be infected & spread it throughout the galaxy... we prevented the problem before it even happened...*gives a wicked smile*

Absolum: Yes we couldn't have done it without you *gives a wicked smile*

Celestine couldn't help but blame herself for the downfall of Shiver Star... A few hours later Celestine's warpstar cracked-

"No problem... I think," Absolum

To remedy the situation, Absolum tried to fame concern for her but in reality was keeping her in the temple to hide that she was "broken." She could still tell fortunes just at random, they just had to keep her near the temple and store them whenever they came to her.

Absolum was still reeling at how could this happen... he didn't want to expose his little mistake. (In truth he knew he was working too hard and put her to work earlier than most, because of her ability... CHILD LABOR AM I RIGHT?!.) It was still too valuable, they can't risk having her break some more...

Thus, Celestine became a caged bird.

Uther felt that she was a failure unbecoming of a Hero of Yore and not deserving of her title. She can no longer do the ability properly and with her body always hurting how was she going to fight on the battlefield!

Along with that thought she be too emotional anyway... always trying to steer them to the future... the least amount of damage... HE WANTED PROGRESS! Often opting for the method that would get him results not caring about the collateral damage!

Icarus shares in Uther's sentiments, with the added notion that she got away with lazying around doing nothing. Just got to sit there waiting for the next prediction to come around. He & Uther were doing all the heavy lifting and she was still being treasured by Absolum... (he wasn't jealous of the attention or anything...)

Thus resulting in Icarus having the brilliant idea of sticking Celestine with all the political fairs (the paperwork). Which seemed like a good idea at the time (a decision they would all come to regret).

Unbeknownst to them... they had given Celestine all the diplomatic power in the galactic court. Managing to win over the galactic council with her charm and grace. Uther had always used his power to intimidate his ideals.

However, Celestine had a softer approach and was seen as far more likable in the... (this was before the council was corrupt and this was due to Celestine's influence...) Often resulting in the members to come to her for their problems. Uther couldn't beat her in this arena... being reminded all too well this was a political battle as well.

For Icarus, you see there was a... certain deal he wanted to part take in... a deal with Halacandra. Where did the GSA partner up with and believe that he could easily impress with his inventions... with their queen?! ( Minerva Mim - Magolor's great aunt)

What happened... the king was supposed to be here whys he spent an entire month sucking up to him who was this queen...

The queen was not impressed & ended up showing technology far greater than his... for the first time, Icarus was forced to eat humble pie... "How could this have, surely this is some sort of mistake shouldn't the king be here-"

"Oh he's dead... and unlike him, I'm not to be won over by pretty words and flattery now you offend me... why would I ever want to do business with a lowlife with you!"

Madam made sure to inform the GSA they would not be doing business with them & Absolum desperately wanted to get that deal. Then Celestine volunteered to remedy the situation & suggested inviting her here.

Absolum agrees seeing there is nothing to lose, Uther believes this was just a desperate attempt to try to be useful while Icarus is excitedly waiting for her to fail.

Meeting arrives Celestine takes care of everything personally and at the end of the day. Queen Minerva is all smiles and arrives with a contract, "Alright I've changed my mind, and I'll do the deal as long as I'm working with her."

Minerva wasn't interested in Icarus' inventions but Celestine's alchemic formulas were revolutionary. And just had to have her on their team.

Absolum was shocked and relieved... (maybe this girl had more than one use after all...) and was constantly praising her. And because of her connections with Minerva... she'll need a bodyguard now when she leaves the GSA base but what the why it was worth it.

And Icarus oh how badly he wanted to be part of the mixing pot, but he had to go through Celestine. Who was more than happy to reject his proposal and experiments. (Icarus never forgave her for this.)

She was becoming too influential now ... This resulted in Icarus scheming with Uther... to get rid of her.

Thus beginning the creations of the Ancients & the Halcandrans, with Celestine & Minerva leading the helm. Alongside Dairus Drosselmeyer (Minerva's right-hand man & Daroach's great uncle)... they created many of the legendary treasures... that were now scattered about the galaxy.

(These were kept secret from the GSA... Minerva knew the truth of the situation... for you see during the meeting she had hidden away Kirby's prediction not of him just defeating Nightmare, but the reawakening of Void Termina & Doomsday... and showed it to the Queen and she understood... that's the other reason why she said yes to her)

Minerva helps Celestine create the Kabu's across the galaxy and presents them as "safe houses for star warriors" but in reality, they were all preset guides to Kirby's prophecy.

And helped her create Triple Star... Thus the creating the vigilante Merlyn.... Her work as Merlyn didn't go unnoticed and the people of the galaxy started to recognize the hypocrisy of the GSA. Which made the Ancients & the other's blood boil.

This resulted in having Uther send in his send three of his best soldiers: Sir Nonsurat, Dame Morgan, and last but not least (you guessed it WART... I mean Sir Arthur.)

Kirby's prophecy spoke of "a match" to start the spark that would flame of a new era of peace...

Arthur- Match/ Meta Knight - Spark/Kirby - Flame

At the time she didn't know who it was; the prophecy was incredibly vague with which one it was. But she wasn't going to pass her knowledge to any of them without being sure. (She didn't want another Shiver Star incident to happen... not again...)

But how would she determine which one it would be... they all seemed the most unlikely candidates as "the match." How could she weed out which one... A TRAIL, A TEST, A GAME!

So like in tales of old, Celestine did these little tests of character... and would secretly tag along during missions. Giving them all a chance to see which one it would participate in... Giving them little riddles of the monster Nightmare would do. But she always gave them a choice... (breadcrumbing) and "can't force anyone to change."

However, three of them all seem annoyed at this except for... Sir Arthur was the only one captivated and interested. It takes a while for Arthur to accept Merlyn's but only after the events of:

What Kind of King is in My Blood:

That makes him actively ask for Merlyn (Celestine to help him change) and pretty much becomes Celestine's partner in crime. And as to become a willing student... merely wishing not to become like his master (Sir Uther).

However, their little sparring match still happening, with the condition that he should win... Merlyn's not allowed to be called him Wart... (Needless to say she fought him twice as hard.)

(This post-Celestine is Merlyn:) It goes into more detail about their relationship here but... I added a few things.

Romantic feelings only start after that...

Basically, before they knew they were head-over-heals for each other their love could never be in reality. Not just because of their positions but something else...

After her warpstar broke... she received a terrible vision of her body eventually breaking and her disappearing into star dust. Foreseeing her early death...

She had initially accepted but after all the friends she made (and falling in love with Arthur) she did everything she could to stay longer for them... Celestine tried to keep herself together as long as she could, and managed to keep herself alive a little longer (than she was supposed to) but now she could feel it... she was running out of time.

How was she supposed to tell her everyone... Minerva would be devastated, who was going to help Darius (& Minerva) with his creations, who would protect her followers, and stop Uther & Icarus from making the galaxy into a wasteland...

And worst of all she'd leave Arthur all alone & heartbroken. Who's supposed to tease him now, make sure he doesn't do anything reckless, keep that ego in check, make sure he isn't a prat, to remind him to smile and enjoy life... to laugh... oh her poor little Wart...

No there must be another way...she couldn't tell any of her friends... she wasn't giving up yet... However, little did she know that was the least of her worries...

Celestine was always careful with hiding her connections with her alter-ego... and Arthur, but there was one person who did figure this out. Sir Nonsurat; after Arthur had saved "Merlyn" from his grasp he started to see a pattern.

Arthur had been an accomplice to Merlyn's along... "HOW DARE ARTHUR, I KNEW YOU NEVER DESERVED YOUR POSITION AND WITH THIS YOU WILL BE RUINED FOR SURE."

Thus, Celestine received numerous horrible visions (she got them all at once)... of Arthur being found guilty in a trial. And at the end of each, Arthur had refused to sell her out, remaining loyal to her, confessing his love for her, and dying. And then she saw her demise as well... her body finally breaking right after... poofing into stardust.

Being completely overwhelmed, she burst into tears. Desperately searching for a future where they could both live... (a future where she could be happy with him.) However, it was either that she & Arthur had escaped and her body would explode and Arthur would be captured (by the GSA) and executed right after for his desertion).

Celestine couldn't help but believe that she had destroyed Arthur's future all because she had gotten involved... (it was Shiver Star all over again.) Just like in the other futures... what could she possibly do...

Perhaps...she could solve one problem with another...

So, before the day Nonsurat was going to turn in his report of evidence... Celestine had stolen it away. And with the help of Darius, they manipulated the information to frame someone else...

Nonsurat was infuriated once he found his evidence to be stolen... But he didn't want to cause an uproar, so he demanded a completed search of every squadron. Under the pretext "there is a traitor among us, and they've stolen my documents..."

A complete search required every general to be accounted for. Nonsurat observed Arthur carefully only to find him especially giddy!?

Arthur: I do hope the search is finished soon... The sooner we finish here the sooner I can give Celestine this-

Kit Cosmo: Code red! Everyone needs to come to the Courtyard immediately! Were under attack!

Arthur: By who?!

Kit Cosmo: By... Lady Celestine...

~

(She had already known Icarus was trying to take her down... so using her Nonsurat's evidence, she had successfully framed herself... handing it in in the guise of one of Icarus' informants.)

With the information he had put together and received, Sir Icarus concocted a false trail that Celestine was leaking information and was secretly in cahoots... with Merlyn.

Since it was a trial that involved someone as high-ranking as her... she knew the trial would exclude a select few. And since she knew Nonsurat would warrant a search... she knew it would be the perfect thing to keep Arthur out of the trail.

Celestine: Well, if I am going to get locked away... I might as well make it worth the sentencing.

It was at this moment that Celestine unleashed her demonic owl (she had hidden away) and bit off his head Absolum; killing him instantly. (Madoka Magica style). Icarus tried to stop her but failed Celestine resulting in his wings being ripped off. And officially went on a rampage letting out all those years of unbridled rage & sorrow she had kept in.

Then she remembered quickly about Kirby's prediction... quickly she created her own army of Hydro Clones... to leave them all at bay.

She went into her lab and quarters and destroyed every piece of magical research and Alchemic formula. She wasn't going to let them benefit & use her research any longer and most importantly to keep Kirby's predictions... but one person who managed to get through the army... it was none other than Uther.

Uther: I always knew you were a little witch~

Celestine: That was a sham trial & you know it ... You forced my hand

Uther: You should; 've stayed in your place, someone weak as you, you are not worthy of your spot as a Hero of Yore-

Celestine: Well you are not worthy of your spot as leader! You never were and one day you'll fall you'll see *at that moment Celestine received another vision-*

At that moment Uther thought this was the perfect chance to lung at her but this backfired... he accidentally ended up seeing Celestine's vision too... And it visibly shook him to his core.

Being overwhelmed by the very visions that plague Celestine, (claiming before she was emotionally weak, was causing him to be paralyzed by fear...) It was a vision of his throne crumbling down& everything he built and it was being led by one astral... he couldn't make out the face... was... was it pink...

Celestine tried to pull away so he couldn't see the rest of the vision... and ended up striking his right eye to stop him... Uther was left frozen while Celestine could feel her body about to break and desperately made her escape... But as she stormed out...

Uther: Will make sure you're vision will not come to pass I will find that pink warrior if it's the last thing I do... And I'll- you'll die by my blade gah- *Still paralyzed because of the vision & couldn't get up

Celestine: Sorry Uther... but I'm afraid that honor won't go to you...*runs out to find Arthur* I've already selected my champion...

In the commotion, Arthur manages to find her, desperate he reaches, Celestine:

Arthur: We have to... you need to run-

Celestine: Graduation time Wart *sees a cast of other soldiers & on-looker watching* - Let's see what you're made of! Just treat it as one of our sparring matches and we'll be fine-

After all the losses in their sparing matches, Arthur finally manages to beat Celestine... "Well done, Arthur- you've finally done it, you've w-" * Visibly starts to break... and falls- and Arthur catches her

(Celestine pulls up a smokescreen so no one can see them... however, three people manage to sneak in)

Arthur: Celestine, what's happening to you-

Celestine: I've come to the end of my time- due to my condition my body was bound to break... I didn't mean to hide it... I really thought I could beat the odds... I'm sorry War- Oh I guess I can't call you Wart-

Arthur: NO! If that's the case you weren't in the best condition- *starts crying* I didn't really win-, you have to stay *sobs profusely* You have to stay and call me Wa-Wart!

Celestine: Figures *chuckles...* it takes you this long to finally admit you like the nickname ... Thank you Arthur you made my life short all the worthwhile... I hope you can forgive me

Arthur: There's nothing to forgive Cel- Celty, *cries* I love you, please there is always something... There's always, you told me that... You're the greatest mage in the galaxy... there's got to be...

Celestine: I surely hope that light of you doesn't get snuffed out *smiles warmly* it's going to be hard Wart but remember this...

Keep your eyes open and beware of the bad in the world... but also hold on to the good as well... you don't have to look, just know that it's there... it'll keep you from falling...

(the quote that Meta Knight said to Kirby originally came from Sir Arthur... that was told from Celestine...)

And even should you lose your way I know you'll find it again... you'll always be a worthy king to me. I love you too Arthur... and I always will.... (*they share one passionate kiss*)

It was a kiss Arthur had so longed for, but it was laced with so much sorrow and joy all at the same time...

Arthur: I don't wanna let you go-* Gets knocked out by Minerva...

She had informed Minerva before the trial (and of course was devastated but was willing to fulfill her last request). And who stood behind her were Darius & Kit the only three witnesses to what really happened. Kit realizes that Celestine is Merlyn... She then handed off and knocked out Arthur to Darius & Kit Cosmo.

And made sure they promised to paint Arthur as the hero who defeated her. And fled the scene and Minerva went to her best friend and hugged her one last time... and fled with the others.

When they had all left to safety... she lifted the smoke screen only to see a hoard of Ancients led by Uther try to arrest her. She flew into the air Celestine had her Gravity wicked moment... as her body finally was about to shatter into pieces.

Celestine: I curse you all, *putting one final spell cursing the Ancients* (basically she's the reason why they all disappeared)

As her body started to implode they mistook it to be a suicide bombing and she was planning to take them all down with her... thinking quick the Ancients Crystalized to prevent the explosion...

But in that moment she has one final vision of Arthur taking the seat as leader of the GSA. She smiles and says "I always you could do it Wart *starts cry* It's just too bad I'll never be able to see it in person".

Arthur woke up in the hospital wing hearing... Darius & Kit recount the story of the incident. With the way Kit & Darius spun it was Arthur who saved the day... (Arthur realized this was all part of Celestine's plan: to give him a title that would protect him even when she was gone...) Arthur * began to weep* with Kit trying to comfort him the best he could...

Making Arthur (to the Ancients) irreplaceable... being able to take down a Hero of Yore when they (Icarus & Uther) could not. Being extremely grateful (and needing a new holy figure), gave him the title of "Holy Knight," and said they owed him one favor...

(So basically he got credit for defeating the love of his life & took her place as the GSA's holy figure...)

So in summary:

Before being detained, she managed to rip off Icarus' wings, blind Uther in his right eye, and kill about 500 Ancients. She was trying to escape only to be stopped by Sir Arthur, who defeated her in battle. But tried to escape only to be cornered by the remaining soldiers... and seeing she had nowhere else to run...

Despite the efforts of the Ancients to paint her as wicked, people could not believe in the shame of a trial. Especially Minerva, when she heard this false slander on her best friend (she had enough of it)... she declared Halcandra's formal separation from the GSA. Cutting them from Halcandra's advanced technology caused an even bigger scandal. And had put her down to silence her as well... removing her...

(What happened to Darius... well that's a story for later)

Ruining their reputation even further... destroying the pristine image they had built up until now. And those who were at the trail were split in the middle... On one hand, it seemed like she had gone on a rampage because of her unfair judgment and merely reacted because she was pushed into the corner. On the other hand, she had always been hiding away her true nature & hatred for all of them, and once she had been found out... she unleashed all of it.

Were both true...

As a result, the Ancients tried to erase her from existence... from the galaxy, with only the remaining Ancients & the Heroes of Yore remembering her... Celestine had become forgotten.` Basically, she was described as (by the Ancients) the unspeakable third who tried to destroy them all & maliciously take them down with her. And she had to be erased...

However, this did not remedy the situation... Uther was still haunted by Celestine's vision he must hunt down the pink warrior... he will not have his reign end. Icarus was all too happy to take over the Halcandra projects... however, was always constantly reminded of being reduced to flightless astral and still hates her to this day.

While everyone had forgotten Celestine: they all remembered Merlyn. But even though, "Merlyn" had become a legend, many doubted the actual existence... of this supernatural being.

However, there was one person who managed to remember her... and that's where her story ends...

Or maybe not...

Her crystallization saved her preventing her from exploding... So she was still alive in there. They tried to hide her crystal in a cave and seal it off so no one would find her... Little did they know that the cave held one of the dark portals of Morpho accidentally ending up in the underworld...

And guess who ends up accidentally winds up there.

BTW they got married in the Underworld

I actually planned this out to be a tragedy, but I ended up making them have a happy ending... (that I can't reveal just yet how it happens in the story)

BUT BEST BELIEVE OUR GIRL GETS EVERYTHING SHE DESERVES AND SITS ON THE THRONE WITH HER KING WHERE SHE BELONGS!

And if you read this long thank you for reading! <3