#I had an epiphany as I wrote this too

[sciencewife]

Oh have you ever drawn Caroline saying her incoming “goodbye Caroline” line?

How do you see her when she said it?! I’m curious!

I had to draw her today so I could say “yes I have”

The following is, of course, my opinion.

To me, Caroline is a very intelligent, clever woman. There’s a misconception that Caroline was being your average ditzy secretary when she says this line, but to me, she was making a clever joke. She probably said it with a smile and a wink at Cave when the recording you hear in old Aperture was originally made. She and Cave worked well with each other and understood one another on a certain level, to where they just knew exactly what the other was talking about. Not sure if telepathic is the right word. But they understood each other more than any other two people in Aperture did.

But there’s a melancholy angle too, I think. Goodbye, Caroline. The meaning changes as the years went by. It starts off as a joke, but I think Caroline gives more and more to Aperture as time passes, and she devotes her life to it (Cave doesn’t call her the backbone of the facility for nothing). She gives even more once Cave falls sick and eventually dies, and she takes over.

Eventually, she’s given so much of herself to Aperture and to science—once she’s given all a human being can possibly give—that, in the end, she becomes Aperture.

Goodbye, Caroline.

[cc-nadama]

Feelings, It’s Been Too Long Since I Felt

Inspired by a Mustafa Avşaroğlu song

Summary: When a series of innocent encounters with the cleaning lady led to a more intimate relationship, Viktor finds himself absolutely smitten.

Pairing: Viktor x cleaning lady!reader

Rating: Mature

Expected Content: There are no sexual acts depicted in this work. However, there is a passionate kissing scene.

Word count: 2,440

To @the-californicationist, thank you for your kind words and advice. I finally wrote something that I felt proud of sharing.

———

Even in his deepest moments of solitude, there was this undeniable feeling—a yearning that Viktor could never shake. It was this bothersome inkling, incessant in its demand and fervent in its inclination. Forever present in his lonesome existence and forever there to remind him of his growing need for companionship.

With each passing day, the notion remained. It festered like an ill-begotten wound, clawing into his flesh until it gnawed on his weary bones. Soon, his mind became a feverish haze, lost in a stream of consciousness that delved into the primal depths of his imagination.

For hours, Viktor sat. His gaze was turned towards the window, watching the silver light filter into his laboratory. His space was a mess, cluttered with various contraptions and inventions, the metal machinery glinting underneath the pearlescent glow. Somewhere, a faint yet constant hum filled the empty air, a noise that barely kept him from the brink of silence.

Within his hands was a small device, a partially constructed piece that kept his idle hands busy. Yet, despite his best efforts to keep his mind from conjuring visages of you, it was all met in vain.

For a brief moment, Viktor caught a faint whiff of your perfume—the delicate notes of lavender and vanilla flitting in the air until it swirled around him like a tender caress. Suddenly, memories of you rushed into his mind like a babbling brook. Every little detail came to him so vividly. The way you looked into his eyes with that sweet little smile. The lovely sound of your voice while you rambled on about your day. The feeling of your fingers running over his skin.

With a shuddering sigh, Viktor slumped into his chair and closed his eyes. He was fraying at the seam, practically unraveling from the mere thought of you. The moment he had gotten a taste, you became a craving for a man who never knew he was starved. You became his reckoning—the reason behind the fall of a brilliant scientist. If you were to ever disappear from his life, Viktor would be in absolute pieces. You became his everything.

It was a simple yet profound epiphany, one that dawned on him the night you slept in his arms. Your weary head was pressed against his firm chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sleep. His slender arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him while the two of you lay on his bed.

Somehow, that night stirred something deep within him as he watched you. His gaze was tender, eyes tracing the features of your face and counting the moles and freckles along your skin. Viktor spent those blissful hours studying every little detail, committing them to memory.

“Viktor? What are you doing, it’s a quarter past midnight.”

Your voice was a delicate sound, one that complimented the peaceful stillness in his laboratory. Amidst the constant humming and thrumming, devoid of the usual clanging and thrashing, your voice was the perfect harmony that soothe his aching heart.

Within an instant, Viktor turned in his seat to meet your gaze. Even under the dim moonlight, the amber in his eyes were smoldering with emotion—something so raw and intense that it left you momentarily stunned. Before Viktor, no one had ever looked at you that way. It was as if you were the definite solution to a once insoluble equation.

For a fleeting second, nothing else mattered. Whatever words you were supposed to utter next had died on your tongue. In the absence of speech was the weight of unspoken meaning—sentiments that were never fully expressed but entirely felt. It lingered heavy in the air, begging for someone to bring it to attention.

Then, Viktor cleared his throat and looked away.

“I needed to finish some work.” He gestured to the device in his hand before placing it on his desk. He spoke in an even tone, belaying the inner turmoil stirring deep within his core. Somehow, a simple cleaning lady was turning him inside out.

Unlike his stoic delivery, what tumbled out of your trembling lips was a sheepish reply,

“Well, you should—uhm—call it a… night.” You suggested, your voice barely even an audible mumble.

You watched the corner of his lips twitch into a crooked smile, his voice sounding softer than when he last spoke. When Viktor met your gaze again, the heat behind his eyes softened—replaced with a promising warmth that made your stomach flutter.

“I suppose I could use the rest.”

Viktor made a small hum before he lifted himself from his chair. His movements were careful, using his cane to support his crippled leg. Even with the subtle hobble in his step, his stride remained purposeful. There was nothing that could stop him from walking towards you. Viktor was always determined to cross the distance, especially when it meant he could be with you in the end.

Soon, the two of you were walking down the hallway side by side. It was a long journey from his laboratory to the dormitory, navigating through several intersections and winding corridors. But, whenever Viktor had you with him, it made the ache in his leg a little more bearable.

You listened to the sound of your footsteps padding against the marble floor, noticing how the tip of his cane would make a soft clack at the same moment. It was an easy melody, one that filled the comfortable silence.

“How have you been?” Viktor finally spoke. His heart was racing—building a thundering rhythm he was sure you could hear.

It was an innocent question. One that either of you would ask on any given occasion. Viktor knew about the misgivings of your work, having witnessed some of it firsthand. Yet, he always loved to hear your recounts—rather, he loved to hear your voice when you did so.

“The usual.” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the small smile that curved his lips. It was almost unusual to see him like this—content and at peace. Viktor was a man of relentless ambition. Yet, whenever you were with him, Viktor seemed to forget about his work. Instead, all he could focus on was you. You were what mattered most in that moment.

“The councilors had a gathering earlier. Had to clean after them…” You continued, relaying the events of your day while knowing how trivial it was to a distinguished scientist like him. Yet, unbeknownst to you, Viktor needed to hear something mundane. His mind was like a loom—constantly weaving equations and theorems. He needed to hear something unrelated to his work, something monotonous and ordinary.

“I missed you.” You remarked suddenly.

Within an instant, Viktor snapped his head to the side. He looked surprised, not expecting you to say something so bold. His lips were opening and closing, searching for the right words to say.

“I… I missed you too.” He mumbled a reply. But, beneath the twilight, you saw how his eyes gleamed with sincerity.

Then, the both of you stopped.

“How have you been, Viktor?” It was your turn to ask, and when you did, you saw how his lips curved into another smile.

“Restless—until you came.” It was an honest answer. Because throughout the day, his mind was nearing the brink of hysteria. You were driving him practically insane.

Then, the two of you continued to walk, rounding the corner to where his dormitory was.

It was only when you stood in front of his door did you meet his gaze again, noticing something swimming beneath the amber of his eyes. It was almost indiscernible—yet, it made your core blossom with warmth.

“Would you like some tea?” Viktor inquired as he opened the door, gesturing for you to enter.

“That would be lovely.” You smiled in reply before stepping inside.

A few of the curtains were still drawn from this morning, offering a faint pearlescent glow to an otherwise unlit apartment. He followed you from behind, closing the door until it made a click. Then, he made his way into the small kitchen, pulling the kettle from the shelves so he could boil some water.

Whenever the two of you had your little meetings, it always began with a good cup of tea. It became a tradition—something that Viktor looked forward too.

You ventured deeper into his room and took a deep breath, smelling something familiar. It was his scent—woody, musty, and with a delicate note of vanilla. It reminded you of an old book, where the pages were browning and the ink was fading.

His room reflected his simplicity, keeping to the basic necessities while staying true to his academic pursuits. You walked over to the side of his bed, your hand tracing over the grains of his wooden bookshelf. It displayed a few of his favorite collections, with titles written in his native tongue while others pertained to the sciences.

You undid the front buttons of your jacket, folding it over the backrest of his chair.

Meanwhile, Viktor watched you from the kitchen, his eyes following your gentle movements. While the kettle remained on the stovetop, boiling on low heat, he walked over to you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the sound of his cane mingling with the soft patter of his footsteps. Then, it came to a stop just a few paces behind you.

When you turned around, you saw his slender fingers undoing his necktie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt. He gave you a knowing smile before glancing over to the bed.

“I could say the same about you.” You replied, the corners of your lips twitching into a cheeky grin. Even under the dim light, you could see the playful gleam in his eyes.

So, you kicked off your shoes and jumped into bed. Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, removing his loafers before he settling in beside you.

You lay your head on his chest, a finger tracing a gentle pattern over his skin. His nose was buried in your hair, an arm wrapped around your waist. Viktor pulled you closer to him until your bodies met, pressed impossibly close. Underneath the layers of clothing, you could feel his warmth seeping into your skin, stoking a fire deep within your core.

“I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.” Viktor whispered, his lips grazing your forehead.

You tilted your head back, wanting to meet his gaze. You could see something simmering beneath the amber of his eyes—something so intense. His desire for you was humming deep within his bones, his fingers twitching as it yearned to touch you.

Slowly, you leaned in, closing the space between you by millimeters a second. Then, your lips brushed against his chapped ones, soft and testing, wanting to see whether he would pull away. When he didn’t, you fell deeper into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close. The kiss deepened and you could feel the coolness of his fingers against your flushed cheek, hands moving to cup your face.

Viktor hummed in response, his eyes fluttering close as he melted into the kiss. Your head was spinning from the excitement, your heart pounding in your ears. It sent you into a blur of pure want, desperate to feel more of him. Your lips were moving in tandem with his, suddenly feeling something warm prod against your bottom lip. You made a quiet and pitchy sound, almost like a suppressed whine of surprise,

“Mm!”

Viktor hummed and continued his exploration, slipping into your mouth. You could feel his tongue gently moving inside, stirring something deep within your core that made you blush. It was becoming too much for you to handle, your head now dizzy from the sudden rush.

Your breathing became ragged, out of tune with your usual cadence. It was frantic and without pace, sucking in breaths whenever you could. It was only when Viktor broke the kiss did the both of you breathed again, panting heavily like a pair of dogs. Underneath the pale light, you could see his swollen lips glisten and parted while he took in a series of quick and sharp breaths.

“You make me feel things… I never thought possible.” Viktor muttered, his hands still cupping your face. His thumb was brushing your cheekbone, his touch light and tender.

There were no words to describe the feelings you had for him. It was profound, with no words or adjectives to do it justice.

“Viktor…” You whispered his name like it was a prayer, so soft yet reverent. Your voice was shaking, still trying to recover from the last kiss.

Without sparing another moment, his lips crashed into yours. He pulled you even closer, desperate to feel your body pressed against his while he poured his everything into one earth-shattering kiss.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—only you.

His blood was running hot with excitement, his heart blaring in his ears. Viktor felt like he was going insane. All the yearning, all the wanting, has now culminated into one fervent kiss—it was chaotic, overwhelming, like a maelstrom of emotions.

You were sinking into his kiss, completely and utterly ruined from the unrestrained passion he unleashed. You never expected to feel something so fierce from a man like Viktor. He was always controlled and immune to his impulses. Yet, when it came to you, he felt like a crazed man without reservations.

“Miláčku…” He muttered into the kiss, his voice strained and breathless.

You could hear something whistling, something sharp piercing into the quiet night. It took you longer than a minute to realize what it was, not exactly caring for whatever else was happening in the moment—except for Viktor.

Unlike you, the man heard nothing. His frantic movements remained that, fervent in his desire and consumed in the kiss. You muttered something incoherent, trying to catch his attention,

“Viktor… the kettle.”

He only hummed in response, not even stopping to hear you better,

“Viktor… kettle.” You mumbled again, a little louder this time.

His movements stuttered, as if he was beginning to realize that the kettle was indeed piping in the kitchen.

“Let it be.” He replied, his voice scratching deep in his throat. Before he could resume the kiss, you interjected with a more scolding tone,

“Viktor… we have neighbors…”

With a loud and reluctant sigh, Viktor conceded. He pulled away and gathered himself to stand.

“Fine.”

———

[b1tchyboyxd]

˚₊‧꒰ა Male wife reader x Husband ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

★ This is going to be short, I'm lazy lolzz ★ There may be several grammatical errors or things like that, I wrote this shit at 4 in the morning during a moment of epiphany, Anywayzzzz, I hope you like it

Tw: none.

Your husband had been away all day, working hard to provide for you. As the evening drew near, you stood in the kitchen, preparing a homemade meal for him, knowing how much he appreciated your cooking. Just as you were about to finish, you heard the front door open and the sound of your husband walking inside.

You continued to put the finishing touches on the dish, your heart fluttering at the thought of seeing your husband's face light up when he tastes your cooking. As he entered the kitchen, you heard him let out a weary exhale, hinting at the long, exhausting day he'd had.

You heard your husband approach behind you, and soon felt his strong, comforting arms wrap around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His body pressed against your back, as if seeking solace in your warmth and presence.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the food you'd been preparing. A soft smile formed on his lips as he spoke, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Mmm... that smells amazing." he murmured, his grip on you tightening slightly.

You turned your head to glance at him, smiling at the sight of his weary expression.

"Long day, love?" you asked gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

He nodded, mumbling a quiet "yeah" before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

The feeling of his breath so close to your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.

"I made your favorite. It should be ready in a few minutes." you said, continuing to play with his hair.

He hummed in contentment, nuzzling into your neck even further.

"Thank you... you know I look forward to your cooking all day." he murmured, his hands beginning to wander over your body, as if seeking physical reassurance that you were real and right there in his arms.

You blushed at his words and the way his hands were now caressing your body, his touches conveying a mix of possessiveness and need.

"You don't have to thank me, I enjoy doing this for you." you replied, your cheeks growing warmer as he traced the outline of your curves with his fingertips.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin for a few moments before he spoke again.

"You're too good to me. I really don't know what I did to deserve you..." he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something almost possessive.

You could hear the hint of possessiveness in his voice, and it sent a thrill through your veins. You turned in his arms, facing him fully as you reached up to cup his face in your hands.

"I could say the same, love." you said, your eyes meeting his in a tender gaze.

"Now go rest a little before the food is ready." You say.

Your husband hesitated for a moment, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

"But... I don't want to let go of you..." he protested, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of stubbornness.

You chuckled softly, gently caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"It'll only be a few minutes, love. Go sit down and relax, okay? You look exhausted..." you urged, your voice gentle but firm.

Your husband let out a sigh, his resistance crumbling as he relented to your request. He released his hold on you, reluctantly stepping back.

"Fine... I'll be in the living room," he mumbled, his eyes still fixed on you, as if afraid to look away.

You smiled at his hesitation, knowing that he would begrudgingly listen to you.

"I'll let you know when dinner is ready," you reassured him, knowing that as much as he wanted to stay glued to your side, he did need some time to unwind.

He nodded, his expression a mix of reluctance and resignation.

"Alright... I'll be waiting..." he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a few more seconds before he finally turned and headed for the living room.

With your husband temporarily taken care of, you finished up the last touches on the dish, feeling a pleasant sensation in your chest knowing that he would enjoy the meal. Once everything was ready, you carefully carried the food to the dining table and called out to your husband.

"Love, dinner's ready!" you called out, your voice ringing through the house. Moments later, you heard the sound of approaching footsteps and your husband emerged from the living room, his face still showing traces of weariness but his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food laid out on the table.

He took a seat at the table, his gaze fixed on the meal in front of him.

"Looks delicious, as always," he complimented, a small smile appearing on his lips. You took a seat opposite him, feeling a sense of satisfaction seeing the look in his eyes, knowing that you had managed to bring a little bit of joy to his weary soul.

He wasted no time in serving himself a portion, his stomach growling loudly, a reminder of how hungry he was. He took a bite and let out a satisfied sigh, his eyes closing as he savored the taste.

"Mmm... it's so good. You always know what I need, don't you?" he murmured, his eyes meeting yours once more.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his words, and you blushed a little under his gaze.

"It's just some simple cooking," you replied, downplaying your skills. "But I'm glad you enjoy it." you added, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He shook his head slightly, swallowing his mouthful before speaking.

"It's not just the food, though. It's the fact that it's made by you. That makes it special. Everything you do seems perfect to me." he said, his voice laced with adoration. You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, his praise causing your heart to flutter.

You found yourself at a loss for words for a moment, not having expected such a sweet compliment. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine affection he held for you.

"You're... too much, you know that?" you managed to say, your voice a little shaky from the rush of emotions coursing through you.

He chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What, for appreciating my wonderful Husband ? I think it's pretty justified." he replied, his tone cheeky yet affectionate. He reached across the table and took your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, his warm fingers sending tingles up your arm. You looked at him, feeling a mixture of shyness and affection.

"I can never get used to you showering me with such compliments..." you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly again, his grip on your hand firm but gentle.

"I know, but I mean every word." he said, his eyes never leaving yours. He moved his free hand to cradle your face, his touch almost reverent as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You couldn't help but lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed momentarily. A soft smile played on your lips, the feelings of love and adoration he stirred within you almost overwhelming.

"You're such a sap," you said, teasing him gently as your eyes opened to meet his gaze again.

He smirked at your comment, unbothered by the light jab.

"Guilty as charged." he replied, his expression playful. He continued to hold your hand in his grasp, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on your knuckles. "But can you blame me when I have the most perfect Husband in the world ?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

Your cheeks heated up at his words, your heart racing in your chest. "You're unbelievable," you mumbled, a mix of amusement and flusteredness in your voice.

"I'm far from perfect, you know that." you added, your eyes lowering as you tried to brush off his compliments.

He shook his head firmly, his gaze unwavering.

"Don't even start with that. To me, you are perfect. And nothing you say will change my mind." he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. He reached over and lifted your chin with his fingers, making you meet his intense gaze once more.

You found yourself lost in his eyes, his intense stare making your heart skip a beat. The sincerity and determination in his voice left no doubt in your mind that he truly believed what he said.

"You... you're impossible," you whispered, your voice almost trembling. Despite your words, you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered at his unwavering devotion.

He smiled softly, his touch still gentle but possessively holding your chin in place.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't have it any other way." he replied, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something almost primal. He sat back in his chair, but his grip on your hand didn't loosen, his fingers intertwined with yours.

You swallowed, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness under his intense gaze. You knew that look in his eyes, that hint of possessiveness that came out when he was particularly worked up.

"Are you finished eating?" you asked quietly, your voice slightly hoarse from the emotions swirling within you.

He nodded, his eyes not leaving yours.

"Yeah, I am." he replied, his voice low and slightly raspy. He didn't loosen his grip on your hand, his fingers now lightly tracing patterns on your skin. "I'm not done with you just yet, though." he added, a hint of darkened hunger in his tone.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your heart rate quickening. You knew that look, that tone of voice. It meant he had something else in mind, something that didn't involve food or rest. You tried to keep your composure, even though your body was already reacting to his touch and the implication behind his words.

"What do you have in mind, then?" you asked, attempting to keep your voice steady.

His gaze darkened, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

"Oh, I have a few ideas in mind..." he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He stood up from his chair without warning, making his way around the table towards you. He pulled you up from your chair as well, his hands on your hips as he pulled you flush against him, his body pressing against yours tightly.

You let out a small gasp as he pulled you close, your body molding perfectly against his. The heat emanating from him was almost scorching, and you could feel the hardness in his trousers pressing against you, a reminder of his desire. Your heart raced in your chest, your breath coming in short gasps as you looked up into his eyes, seeing the mixture of need and possessiveness burning within them. His hands on your hips gripped you firmly, as if he was trying to anchor you in place, as if he could never get enough of you.

He pressed you against him even tighter, his hands moving from your hips to your face, holding you in place. His eyes roamed over your features, as if committing every detail to memory. "I've waited all day for this, you know." he said, his voice low and rough. "For having you all to myself." His lips moved closer to yours, his breath ghosting over your skin as he spoke. His body was tense, coiled with need and desire.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he added, his voice filled with both adoration and a hint of desperation.

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Creativity is gone so that's it lol

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Bye~

[yyokkki]

The Prefect's Laugh

Dropping this monstrosity i wrote in September 2023 because I feel like I'm never going to leave this fandom.

First Years x gn! Prefect

Warning: I haven't played chapter 7, Prefect has a distinct personality so it doesn't really count as x reader but some people could find them relatable, a jumble of canon and non-canon events, mild cursing?

Divider by @saradika

It wasn’t that the Prefect never smiled. In fact, they may have smiled a little too often. It could be as simple as a wordless greeting or as complex as a way to cope with fear, but there was one particular expression the first years saw only once in a blue moon. The smile that comes alongside a fit of laughter.

The first time Ace saw the infamous Ramshackle Prefect smile like that was not too long after they had first met. It was a day or two after Heartslabyul’s housewarden overblotted and they’d finally gotten the rose garden in order.

While chatting about that day’s happenings, a rather embarrassing detail was brought up (embarrassing to Ace at least).

“Can we, like, NOT talk about this anymore??”

“I mean, the housewarden was really going in on you and you just stood there and took it but as soon as he said those things about the Prefect’s parents you didn’t even hold back. It’s weirdly sweet of him, right?”

Deuce looked towards the Prefect for their input to which they replied by fervently nodding their head.

“Wow, who could’ve guessed that maybe THE Ace Trappola cares about his friends??”

“…Honestly would’ve believed you more if you said you did it just to prove you could.”

“Pfft-“

Ace’s head whipped to the side, and he stared at the blooming smile on the Prefect’s face. Crinkled eyes, a hand in front of their mouth and slightly flushed cheeks as they tried to hold in their chuckles.

He wanted to make a snarky comment, something like, ‘I’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past two weeks and THIS Is what makes you break?’

Instead, what came out of his mouth was… Silence.

Maybe the new expression was too shocking as he just stared, five parts confusion, three parts embarrassment, two parts bashfulness. The most he could get out of them even with the most well-crafted jokes were slight smirks and yet something Deuce said without even intending to be funny made them crack.

He felt wronged.

And flustered.

…Shit, why are they kinda cute.

Going back to before the overblot, a day that Deuce personally considers more traumatising than his own housewarden’s mental breakdown.

Sorrowfully gazing upon the carnage of eggshells, whites and yolks jumbled up in the plastic bag branded with the words, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop, Deuce gave out another wistful sigh.

“I just hope those chicks can rest in peace.”

“…You know those eggs don't hatch into chickens, right?”

Shocked, flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned, stupefied, bowled-over; all words that could be used to describe Deuce Spade’s current state of mind.

“Wh- WHAT??? YOU’RE KIDDING.”

While Deuce was having an epiphany about the eggshell-shocking revelation, he noticed the Prefect’s slightly hunched over back and trembling frame. He was about to go comfort them when he saw their face…

And heard their laughter, ringing out like the sound of wind chimes swaying with the summer breeze, despite it being mid-September.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING???”

He looked at them with five parts feelings of betrayal, three parts despair and two parts anger. He was so offended that he immediately stormed off with the grocery bags in hand, huffing and puffing as he went on his unmerry way.

It wasn’t until later that the Prefect started feeling guilty about their reaction to the incident. It kind of felt like telling a little kid Santa wasn’t real…

They apologised, got him a book about the evolution of egg production, hugged it out and all was forgiven.

It wasn’t until much much later that Deuce Spade realised, he had only seen the Prefect laugh a handful of times, that incident taking up one of the spaces.

It had grown to become one of his favourite sounds in the world.

Jack Howl was never one for bad jokes or witty banter. Whenever he and the Prefect stood together, besides looking like a sturdy tree next to a swaying flower, they didn’t look friendly- much less like friends.

Only the two of them understood the solidarity that came with the silence. They were each others go-to when the other first years got too rowdy.

Truly the mom and dad of the group.

They would occasionally engage in conversation. Somehow when they were together, asking about each other’s day would lead to which parts of home they missed most now that they were away or embarrassing childhood memories, they hadn’t told anyone else about.

It was on a day like any other, a long while after the deep sea overblot.

Jack and the Prefect had finally started speaking to each other comfortably, yet most of their time together was spent just existing in the same room, doing their own thing.

It wasn’t awkward, at least not to the Prefect. But they had to ask just in case.

“Hey, do you ever feel like we don’t really talk when we hang out?”

“…Well, we are at the library.”

“I mean at other places too.”

Jack looked up from his notes, glancing at the Prefect with a little apprehension tracing his features.

“Why? You find it weird?”

“No, I like it a lot, just- I’m not used to it you know? Whether it’s the friends I’ve made here or my friends from back home they’ve never been the type to let the room stay quiet for over five seconds.”

They shifted slightly to cast an inquisitive glance over at him, “I can’t tell if you mind or not.”

Against his very own will, Jack’s tail started flowing slightly. So, they like being around him?

“I feel the same as you. I like our time together.”

Realising he sounded a little too soft, he immediately started backpedalling.

“Not that that means anything. I enjoy spending time with many people, doesn’t make you special.”

After finishing his piece, Jack looked back down at his notes, playing it cool. His tail, however, betrayed his feelings.

"Pfhaha, so cute, it’s like a helicopter-“

“…”

Not knowing how to defend himself, Jack got up to sit across the Ramshackle Prefect, blocking their view of his tail but giving him the perfect angle to catch all their expressions.

…It may be a little too late for him.

It all started with a godforsaken game of PG rated chicken.

Epel Felmier didn’t know whose dumb idea it was to hold a competition like this among all the first years but damn was he killin’ it.

It was almost too easy. It made him feel conflicted. Should he be happy that he’d somehow reached the finals? Or mad that it’s all cause of his face and build?? Either way, the prize was too good to pass up so he was gonna win.

So far he’d been flyin’ through with direct eye contact and a smile or two if his opponents were tougher but the final round had been filling him with a weird sense of dread, so he decided to prepare a little somethin’ special this time.

He doubted he’d have to use it though; he didn’t think very highly of the kids at NRC in this specific department…

That being until he got a text from the organiser telling him who his opponent was, that being: the Ramshackle Prefect.

Well shit.

He knew they never judged anybody, including him, for their appearance, and he’d always appreciated them for that. But in this context, it would make ‘em a tough nut to crack.

Not even mentioning, they knew his weakness when he didn’t have theirs.

He immediately pulled down their chat and started typing ferociously.

‘you. me. ramshackle lounge. after school. please?’ And send.

Might as well get a practise round in to scope the waters.

Luckily, the Prefect considered him a friend and wasn’t overly cautious, so not long after the text was sent an ‘ok’ was promptly sent back.

As soon as school let out, Epel ran into the Prefect in the mirror chamber, and they embarked towards Ramshackle dorm together.

He’d informed them of his intentions while on the way, so they got started after arriving.

First, he tried his usual techniques despite knowing they wouldn’t work. As expected, the Prefect didn’t so much as flinch.

Then they smiled warmly at him.

“Your training has been working out really well, I can see a little more definition on your arms. How do you even do it? What you lack in a natural constitution is already being made up for by your will and perseverence! It's really rare to find people like you out there.”

Shit, a genuine compliment about his mental and physical growth! That’s critical damage, how could they be so dirty, using his weakness against him?

Well, if that’s how they’re gonna play it.

Epel held up his two hands in front of him, forming a heart with his fingers.

The Prefect looked unfazed. They just smiled at him, mockingly (Epel’s perception).

Fine. He’s been left with no choice but to pull out his secret weapon.

“I-If you were a fruit, you’d be a FINEAPPLE!” Absolutely humiliating.

But also absolutely effective.

The Prefect’s mask started cracking at its seams.

“F-fineapple? I never thought I'd ever hear you say anything like that- Pfft hehe-“

He'd won, but his face was as red as his namesake as the visage of his Prefect’s tinted cheeks and choked back giggles entered his heart.

On the day of the competition, he lost miserably. The Prefect ended up passing the prize onto him, claiming they were only participating for fun, but he wasn’t really upset.

It’s for the best that no one else sees that face anyways.

Sebek Zigvolt’s sole purpose for living is to serve his young master as a reliable retainer.

In order to be reliable, he must excel in both academics and athletics. Athletics weren’t worth mentioning and he found all academic subjects easy enough.

All except for art, that is.

Making use of a medium to place your creative vision onto a surface sounded simple, yet the product had never lived up to his expectations, creating a habit of casting fire spells to burn the causes of his shame.

After yet another round of sweeping up the ashes of a canvas, he’d decided enough was enough. As unbecoming as it was, a good retainer would ask for help when he really needed it.

And he really really needed it.

His next course of action was to head over to the staff room and inquire with the Art professor for private lessons, only to be told that she had no empty slots in her schedule.

“If you don’t mind learning from another student, I recommend asking the Ramshackle Prefect to tutor you. They’re one of the best among their peers and I’ve seen them offering help to other students during my classes so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

That magicless human? He’d only ever spoken two or three sentences to them, and he couldn’t stand the uncouth beast following them around every hour of the day, but if they truly were one of the best…

Thus started a deal he would come to regret in the future.

The Prefect wasn’t a bad teacher. They’d gotten him to start on the basics before even thinking of the elaborate portraits he’d always been hellbent on doing.

Once he’d finally grasped the techniques needed, he immediately jumped onto the opportunity to paint his young master, using one of his sacred wallet sized photos as reference. The Prefect stood beside him the whole time, pointing out mistakes and fixing any parts he deemed unsatisfactory.

The only qualm he had was that they’d protested to his idea to paint a wall sized mural, stating that it was too advanced.

With a beautiful portrait in tow, he returned and hung it up near his shrine. It couldn’t compare to his young master’s radiance but it had been the best thing he’d ever painted and he was felling pleased with himself.

An idea came over him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help after all…

And that was what led to him showing up at Ramshackle outside of lesson hours with a small canvas nervously clenched in his hands.

“Human. It didn’t turn out as well without your guidance, but this is a little token of appreciation for your help these past few weeks.” He pushed the portrait into the Prefects hands, ready to accept criticism.

“…”

“Human..?”

“…Pffhehe-, I never expected you to do something so heartfelt for a ‘dumb human’. Heh, I guess I really grew on you!”

“Why are you laughing?! ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME??”

If he had his sword on him he would be unsheathing it right now.

“No, no, thanks man, I love it.”

The brightest and most genuine smile he’d ever seen from them blossomed.

He felt his face burn and his heartbeat rise to an abnormal degree as the Prefect’s warm gaze felt as though it were boring into him.

…I must inquire with Master Lilia what hex this human has placed upon me. Right this instant!

[netherfeildren]

Evermore

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.

-OR-

The Thanksgiving AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP

A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]

New Year’s Eve follow up

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

“You’re doing so good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him. 

“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter. 

“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”

You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?” 

“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”

“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother. 

Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done. 

“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers. 

You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine. 

He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.” 

You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”

He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”

The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.

Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad. 

You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has. 

You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside. 

The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there. 

He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust. 

You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot. 

He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it. 

“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass. 

“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.

“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”

“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”

“Baby…”

Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough. 

“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.

“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him. 

“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”

“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him. 

“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go. 

He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately. 

He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this. 

He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.

He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him. 

He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.

There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that. 

He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.” 

You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby. 

When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you. 

New Year’s Eve follow up

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[drdemonprince]

This may sound like a backhanded compliment, but I'm not intending it that way, I just don't really know how to articulate it better.

Unmasking autism had such a positive impact on my wellbeing. After reading it, I basically came away with the impression of you being smart and competent - which you 100% are IMO. Then I randomly found your tumblr like last week and realized you're also kind of a hot mess. It makes sense. Dr. Demon Prince is also you, but not what is reflected in a widely published book.

There wasn't a moment of epiphany where you overcame and transcended. You just continued being you, which is a complex and messy human. I guess I didn't see the connective sinew between pre-diagnosed riding-the-struggle-bus Devon and the PHD Devon who wrote an impactful book when you're the same person.

It is very encouraging to me to see that. I too can be a hot mess, but also competent at what I am good at. Looking forward to reading Unmasking for Life.

I wish that people would realize that every single author they have ever gotten something meaningful from is a goddamn fucking mess with fucked-up relationships, questionable morals, intellectual and emotional blind spots, compulsions, and insecurities that radiate off their person as clear as sunlight. and it's not just authors either. every professor or teacher or mentor that you've ever had is completely incompetent in so many areas of their life that you can't see; every boss who has intimidated you is ultimately feckless to the extreme and has probably completely obliterated their marriage, finances, or just their whole life in five different ways. nobody that you look up to has any fucking idea what's going on, and every authority figure around you papers over the holes in their person with the symbols of propriety and status. nobody's admirable, nobody knows what the fuck's going on, most humans are driven by their emotions, their desire to be loved, and a collection of insecurities that have been katamari damacy'd onto them throughout the course of their life. Don't be impressed by anyone. Don't ever think that someone is out of your own intellectual or emotional league, or use them as a cudgel with which to punish yourself for all that you lack. these dumb motherfuckers lack a whole lot too. and you can take what is useful from a person, or an idea, without expecting purity or perfection from them. All that is good in humanity comes from us as snarling, petty, insecure, cheating, angry, wounded, crazy beings.

thank you so much for reading, and I do take what you have to say as a type of compliment. You're regarding me more as a human being now rather than as a symbol, which I appreciate. I hope you like the new book.

[infamous-if]

Dec ✮ 12 ✮ 2024 – update

Part of me hates doing these mostly because it's a whole lotta nothing and me just repeating everything I said the last update (lol) but I do like doing it because I like keeping people updated, even if it's a non-update. I may sound like a broken record (pun not intended) but I know a lot of people don't catch my updates every time so it's nice to just keep people informed yk yk

✮ — Part 2 + rewrite

Fun fact: I had written an entire essay about my excitement for the rewrite and chapter 3 and beyond but it got too long!

It boiled down to me wondering why I'm so excited for this rewrite and realizing it's because I feel comfortable enough to approach it with complete creative freedom. I wrote the first iteration of the demo with the constant worries swimming in my head like "I hope people understand what I'm trying to say here" and "I hope this situation is being read the way I intended for it to be read." And I think I sort of had those thoughts tenfold while writing Part 2. If you paid attention, you can probably see where I was trying to shut down certain discussions in the narrative lmao

Recently I had a tiny epiphany and reminded myself that it's not always about what I intend to write, but what is being understood by each reader. And yes this is basic writing 101 but let me have this moment of clarity okay. Embracing that means I can proceed with Infamous without holding back and sticking to my guns in regards to what I want for this story aka I'm just going to write what I write and like....not worry about the rest you feel (while of course integrating the common critiques and suggestions and improving on the things Infamous falls short in—I am not Shakespeare lmao)

ANYWAY my point is that I'm excited to fix up the demo !!! and just go back to it with complete confidence in myself and write whatever the heck feels right to me (and write the rest of the story lolol) and return with a better story than I have now for everyone!!

✮ — December will be for

planning what I'm going to improve and squeezing that in a reworked outline so it can flow much better narratively.

Outlining Chapter 3 and hopefully have the bare bones first draft drafted up which is mostly just be writing blocks of descriptions

I'm not sure I'll have anything substantial to justify looking for beta testers so soon yet but maybe!

work on my spice writing babey writing/reading spice makes me actually physically recoil but im determined to get better! which reminds me to finish the 6k follower gifts!

And also take a small breather because I am moving!

✮ — Patreon

I've already mentioned this on Patreon and a few times on here, but I do want to reiterate that Patreon content is coming out in bulk this month, in case anyone was wondering why I'm not posting as frequently. The content is still the same in terms of the quantity, it just won't be released every few days! thank you guys for being understanding of that <3

✮ —

My activity has is decreasing little by little due to my move but I do read every question and try to at least answer one question a day. I get quite a few mentions lately so I have to sort through those since I do get tagged in things, but I miss them due to my notifications. Usually I hope for the best and hope tracking the tag puts it on my dashboard <3 im not ignoring anyone!

That's all for now! Hope everyone has a happy December and Happy Holidays!

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 149 }

wingmen.

megumi fushiguro x fem.reader

no curses | high school au

warnings: slight crack, but mostly fluff.

dedicated to @xbarrjallenx

to my beloved girl,

you are all that i can think of. from your bright eyes, to the way your hair seems to shine from beneath the sunlight-

you drive me crazy.

i am madly in love with you.

please say that you’ll be mine someday?

-yours truly,

your admirer.

{ … }

your lips were parted with absolute shock in response to reading the love letter that was left within your locker. your mind was in a haze as you kept reading the neat script over and over again.

in fact, you were still in shock because you didn’t think that something so sweet could even happen to you!

you recall waking up this morning feeling stressed and nervous about your upcoming trigonometry exam. even with your best friend’s meticulous and detailed notes, you ended up goofing off with nobara and yuji and didn't do much studying (much to megumi's chagrin!)

you had plans of going over your notes with megumi during homeroom, but after receiving such a sweet love letter, your desires to study went down the drain. your eyes kept trailing over each written word, but couldn't seem to recognize the style of writing at all.

as your fingertips trace at the written words, you suddenly had a epiphany-

perhaps your friends could help you figure out just who this secret admirer was!

with your eye practically glimmering with hope, you slam your locker shut before making a mad dash to your classroom, almost too eager to see megumi, yuji, and nobara again.

{ ... }

megumi was simply looking over his notes when he sees you bursting into the classroom. your features appear flustered, and he could see the way your strands of hair fell across your face.

he feels his lips twitch in a slight smile, but successfully fights back those happy emotions because it just wasn't in his style to be anything but cool, calm, and collected while in the presence of his friends-

(even if he did have the tiniest crush on you-)

but he digresses.

while yuji and nobara were talking about some new music video that was dropped by their favorite band, you take quick strides to them while holding up what looked like a letter from within your hands.

"guys look! someone sent me a love letter!"

upon hearing your outburst, yuji and nobara stopped talking about the new music release and turn their attention to you.

"whoa! that's so cool! do you know who wrote it?"

"this is actually sooooo sweet!"

megumi frowns upon hearing how overly happy and excited yuji and nobara were, which was what made the warning bells go off within his head. standing from his seat, he closes his notebook and goes to where you were all huddled together.

megumi narrows his emerald green gaze down at nobara, seeing a suspiciously familiar piece of stationary. he was itching to see just what this letter was all about when he snatches it away from nobara's hands.

"h-hey! i was still reading that!"

but he ignores nobara's protests, scanning through each written word as his forehead began to pulse with annoyance.

this was nobara's handwriting when she actually tried to write neatly!

just what were these clowns up to?

"come with me." megumi returns the letter to you and picks up yuji and nobara by the back of their uniforms, leaving you alone as you went back to staring dreamily at your love letter.

hearing both of his friends laughing while dragging them out into the hallways was more than enough proof that they had done something. only when he knew he was away from you did he finally begin speaking.

"what the hell are you guys up to?" megumi hisses at them both, feeling the annoyance grow when they casually look away from him. "i know that letter was written by you, nobara. so spill, what's going on?"

"i'm just trying to be your wingman." she tells him with a wink, all while smirking at him. "because yuji and i both know that you don't have the balls to tell her yourself."

his face began to turn hotter in response, nearly being choked with embarrassment as he pointed an accusing finger at her, "it's none of your business! if i want to confess to her, then i'll do it on my own terms!"

"yeah, surrre, you've been saying that since the end of our middle school year... and we're in our second year of high school now." yuji reminds megumi with a snicker.

"haha, yeah, yuji knows what's up! so that's why, we're gonna keep sending your beloved letters until you actually confess!"

"no, you won't-"

nobara then flashes him a sly smile, "did you not see how happy she looked after receiving that letter? she would be utterly devastated if we stopped... or maybe... even more hurt if you don't write the letters yourself."

megumi freezes, thinking back on to the joy that paints your features and how excited you were to have such a letter. in fact, seeing your sweet smile was enough to make his heart clench in response...

perhaps the reason why he was so angry and annoyed was because his friends had managed to make you smile first-

not him.

megumi moves away from them with a click of his tongue, shoving a hand within the pocket of his pants, "fine. you got me. just... don't send her anymore letters, okay? i'll come clean to her soon."

while megumi kept his back turned, he couldn't help but smirk when he hears yuji and nobara high-fiving each other, knowing that their plan was a success.

{ ... }

at the end of the school day, (when you were sure you, yuji, and nobara had failed that trig exam), you drag your feet across the linoleum floors of your school, switching out your slippers with your actual shoes when you saw a folded note fall out of your shoe cubby.

your eyes go wide when you received yet another letter, but this time, it wasn't written on a cute stationary, or even placed in an envelope.

instead, it was a folded piece of what looked like a torn page from a notebook. feeling intrigued, you unfold the note as it read.

hey, i wanted to apologize to you, since the letter you received this morning wasn't from me-

but it was written on my behalf.

those words were really cheesy, and there's no way in hell i'd ever say such things-

but that doesn't mean that my heart doesn't race for you;

it doesn't mean that i don't find you beautiful, or think about you all the time.

if you want to know who i really am, come meet me at the school's rooftop.

i'll be waiting.

-your admirer

your heart begins to race, because this handwriting was one that you actually recognized-

for you had seen such neat writing while copying and reading over a certain sea urchin head's notes.

with your heart pounding from within the confines of your chest, you immediately push your legs forward, allowing your footsteps to echo across the floors. you ignore the burning felt against your feet as you saw the door leading to the rooftop, pushing it open with the entirety of your weight.

your chest heaves with each breath that escapes from your parted lips, eyes now narrowing with a fondness when you see megumi standing several feet away from you.

his expression was shy, with his hand running across his hair as he waits for you. allowing the door to shut from behind you, you step closer to megumi and smile up at him. you don't say a word, allowing him to speak first. your eyes meet with his tranquil gaze, basking in his sighs when he says.

"nobara was meddling again... she was the one who wrote that note and put it in your locker."

you let his admission soak in before nodding, "...and...what prompted her to do such a thing?"

megumi remains silent for several seconds before admitting, "it was because of my own hesitance."

he frames at your face with his two hands then, making your face heat up in response as you were forced to look up at him. with eyes filled with adoration for you, and you feel megumi press the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip before telling you, "but, i won't hesitate anymore..."

leaning closer to you, you allow your eyes to shut in response when his lips finally met with yours in a kiss that you had been waiting for since the moment you first laid eyes on him...

a.n. - ahhh finally wrote another story for the best boy! i had a lot of fun writing this story, even if it's feels like it's been forever since i wrote for megumi 🥹 i hope you readers still enjoy it!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[redvexillum]

When I first jumped into Vexitober, I genuinely thought I was gonna die. Like, poof, gone. I wrote and posted every single day for a whole month, convinced I could walk it off after a quick break. Spoiler alert: I was wrong. Then came Smutmas. "Oh, it'll be fine," I told myself, "I'm splitting the workload with Kit!" Yeah, no. I once again found myself writing and posting daily like some manic holiday elf.

By the time New Year Kisses rolled around, I was certain I'd finally caught a break. "Short drabbles," I said. Short. Except, surprise! Each one turned into a fully fleshed-out one-shot because apparently, I don't know how to stop. So here I am, months later, writing this post because my brain and body have collectively filed for divorce. Yesterday, while working on a story, I hit a point where I legit thought I was going to throw up. From writing.

Why did I do this to myself? Was I scared of fading into obscurity? Did I think if I stopped posting, everyone would forget me? I guess I’ve been conditioned to think that stories are like fast food—something to be devoured, forgotten, and flushed away as we move on to the next shiny thing.

But then I had this epiphany: Holy shit, that’s unhealthy. I’m fucking tired.

Stories aren’t fast food. They’re experiences. They take time. They deserve time. And maybe… I deserve some time too.

So yeah, all this rambling to say—I'm gonna be okay with not writing AND posting every day. I’m learning to slow down, breathe, and enjoy the process again.

Haha... I think.

[tophat-69]

it's the good, defining itself

Following the events of the series finale, Viktor saves Jayce by sending him back in time and across realities to the night everything changed, and unwittingly revives himself as well. Viktor is determined to undo his past mistakes even if that means leaving Jayce behind. That idea is complicated by their souls now being intertwined. And fate isn’t done with them yet.

Read it on AO3

Length: 92.4k words (complete)

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Jayce Talis/Viktor, background Silco/Vander

Tags: Post-Canon Fix-It, Soulmates, Dream Sharing, Time Travel/Alternate Universe, Zaun Revolution, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mental Health Issues

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Disability, Discussion of Mortality, Canon Suicidal Ideation

Author's Note: I wrote this by putting out a chapter a day for 22 days as I went from the holiday break, to the flu, to pneumonia. I'm still not entirely sure how that happened and I'm pretty sure it was a fever dream. That could, however, still be the pneumonia talking.

Read if you want Viktor being adopted into the Zaun crew by force, ending up mentoring Powder and Ekko, while also fighting for Zaun's independence and figuring out that maybe yes Jayce is in love with him despite the whole destroying-the-world thing.

Excerpt Below Cut

It’s a strange thing to consider, how a body can be shredded to its base components and reduced back to the stardust from whence they all came. How a soul can be disassembled, thoughts and dreams and ambition boiled down to a single spark. 

How time and space are human constructs, imposed by simple mortals to make sense of the endless dream they’re all merely players within.

It’s stranger still that Jayce Talis recognizes the feeling of his atomization well enough to identify it the moment it begins. He was expecting it when he took Viktor’s hand, but not the peace that came with it this time. Standing in the belly of the Hex Gates, it had been terrifying to find himself unraveling. Now he finds it almost romantic how their edges fray and clear the arbitrary boundaries between them.

Jayce would have been content with scattering into oblivion. He’d accepted that his end was near, and to reach it with a man he long ago discovered was the other half of his soul… that was better than he could have dreamed. 

Jayce knows that they’re both thinking it, can feel Viktor alighting on the same bleak humor as Jayce does, attuned and enmeshed as they bleed into each other. This is another precipice that they are perched at the edge of, this time together. It is the beautiful and ironic bookend to two doomed lives that they each separately contemplated ending, just to be pulled back by the other.

There are no divides between them. He can feel Viktor’s resignation to his failure, his relief at finding a peaceful end to a life of pain, his dreamer’s idealism that twisted with the power that consumed him, his guilt at the losses that he caused, his fear of oblivion, and above it all the boundless affection that thrums between them, matched and merging with Jayce’s own devotion. But as warm as it feels suffusing them both as their souls ebb with their consciousness, it’s the last of those emotions that is so dangerous. 

Jayce, who couldn’t let his partner go regardless of the cost and the promises broken, recognizes that a moment too late. 

He can feel when a sharp frisson of intent sizzles suddenly through the blurred boundary between them.

Viktor has always been focused and directed, fierce and driven, so unhesitating that even his most rational choices seem impulsive. But there is intention in everything that Viktor does. He is a man of science that alights on epiphanies in brilliant flashes of genius, and a man of action who’s always raced against time.

For not the first time, Jayce finds himself fatefully a step behind.

Viktor, don’t…

Viktor’s intangible hand thrusts through the misty dissolving cage of Jayce’s ribs, grasping the spark of Jayce’s soul the way he once seemed to cup the whole world in his palm. For Jayce. Always for Jayce.

Viktor’s eyes burn golden, now a mere impression in the yawning expanse of space, twin stars. A single pulse of determination fuses Jayce back into consciousness even as his body fades away. 

Viktor’s voice is an ethereal whisper in Jayce’s thoughts as light blazes through the darkness of space like a supernova. 

Live, Jayce. 

Read the Rest on AO3

[bachiras-toaster]

The videos : ̗̀➛

GETO SUGURU x f!reader (x GOJO SATORU)

cw: filming, voyeurism, m!masturbation

wc: 1.3k

an: connected to something i wrote for kinktober. as i finished writing one of the drafts i literally had an epiphany and needed to write this story for geto’s perspective too. you’ll get gojo’s perspective on day 23 c;

link to the kinktober fic

That video was not in Geto’s list of things that he expected to see that night, especially not after the wonderful evening that you had just shared with him. The entire evening out you spent with Suguru was full of laughs, jokes, flirting, and much more. Hell, he even walked you to the apartment of his best friend for convenience.

Despite being extremely close with Gojo, Geto could never help but feel a tinge of jealousy whenever he remembered that being best friends with Satoru meant that he got to spend more time with you. Of course, you knew Gojo first, and that’s how you had even come to meet Geto, but ever since knowing you, Geto has never once been able to get his mind off of you.

He spoke about you endlessly to Gojo, to which he would just encourage his words and implored him to talk more about what he did with you. Whenever hs spoke to his best friend about the time he spent with you, he spared no details. Not only because Gojo was his best friend and he, quite literally, told him everything, but also because whenever he started talking about you, he just couldn’t stop. It was like your name rolled off his tongue in such an easy way that he was like an open faucet of memories he shared with you.

Even when it came down to the private stuff, he left nothing out. In fact, he felt himself go into such extreme detail when he described his intimate moments with you. You had never actually had his dick inside of you, but he did give you head on occasion. And whenever he told Gojo about the night where he did, he would talk about it in such immense detail that it was like Gojo was practically seeing the moment unfold as he told him. He described the curve of your ass, the way you tasted, how you sounded- Everything.

And despite all that Geto had told, Gojo swore from the bottom of his heart that he had zero interest in you— Sexually or romantically. You and Gojo were best friends and he could never see you the way Geto did, ever.

Gojo wasn’t exactly the master of deception, but maybe he just believed him because of how close the two of them were. A part of Geto had always known that Gojo must’ve been lying because there was no way that he couldn’t harbour any feelings for you, but he chose to believe Gojo’s words every time anyway.

So when Geto returned back home from his date with you to see a single video message in his phone from Gojo, he stood still for a whole minute or two in his bedroom just rewatching the fifteen-second clip that Gojo had sent him.

“Don't be a brat, (Y/n).” The heavy pants from the video groaned- The voice clearly belonged to Satoru. "Tell Suguru who's fucking you good."

The sounds of your moans, as well as the endless cries for Satoru’s name filled Geto’s ears. He had to seat himself down because of the shock, but his eyes were still widened at the screen, replaying the video for what felt like the ninth time now.

However, he wasn’t as angry or irritated as one would expect— Which is probably why Gojo had even sent the video of him fucking you to him in the first place. He wasn’t jealous or annoyed, he was actually feeling quite aroused. Maybe if it was some other random guy pounding his dick into the girl that he liked, he would’ve felt murderous. But it was Gojo. Hell, he had even sent a nice, high-quality video to his best friend so that they could share the moment together.

He just couldn’t look away. It was such perfect angle. Your parted legs making way for Gojo’s heavy dick inside of you, Satoru’s large arms laying on your hips as he pounded away like you were just a little fuck toy, and the way he could see your slick line his dick in such high quality just made his mouth water even more. There was a clear erection growing in his pants, and he had been involuntarily inching towards it as he kept replaying the video again and again.

He had already allowed his veiny cock to spring free as he swiped his thumb over his slit, gathering his precum so that he could prepare fucking into his fist at the video. He had already screen recorded the message the second time the video replayed, so the moment was already perfectly preserved in his camera roll, but he continued watching the clip from him and Satoru’s text messages anyway.

With the video still playing in the background, Geto frantically typed away with his left hand, sending the messages in such a hurried and desperate pace as he continued to get off to your filthy moans.

“fuckimg hell”

“shes takinf yoy so well”

“god sje looks so wet”

He panted as the text messages went through amat a quick rate. He didn’t cease typing. In fact, he was already preparing himself to send another load of desperate text messages, hoping that they would get through to Satoru in time. They were just another load of short texts, this time asking for requests, begging Satoru to make her scream his name next.

Likewise, in the same manner in which Gojo had done, Geto opened the camera and aimed the lens towards his thick dick, his hand already stroking it harshly with the sound of wer squelching being hard as his hands ran down his length. Though, in contrast to the video that Gojo had sent him, instead of being just a few seconds long, Geto had decided to film right until he was able to catch his high.

There were times he sped up, and times he slowed down, but the things he said were all the same. His low grunts were accompanied by the sound of your name heavy on his tongue, as well as short babbles about how pretty you looked getting fucked dumb by his best friend. His tip was practically glowing red as his palm sped up, the though of your wet pussy being pounded keeping him going.

“God, (Y/n), this is all for you.” He groaned out, the sound of his lip smacking along with his low moans was heard in the background of him jacking off. “You looked so fucking beautiful getting fucked by Satoru… I wanna have my turn with you next…”

He felt himself chuckle as he sped himself up even more, his back arching for better access as his stomach began to knot with the sensation.

“M’gonna be so fucking mean with you the next time I see you… Gonna make you take my dick instead of my tongue… And m’gonna make you take it until you pass out…” He grunted heavily, hoping that the video was catching every single filthy threat that he was allowing to escape his lips.

Not before long, he had released himself all over his palms, letting out a loud groan, along with tour name, as he did so.

Five minutes and seventeen seconds, the video time read. And without a second thought, he sent it straight back.

[soveru]

SWTOR: Sith Inquisitor OC Headcanons

Part two Part one

Spoiler alert under the cut ;)

Something I forgot to mention last time

Based on the mechanics of the assassin class, she definitely scared people by appearing behind them (phantom stride ability) A double-bladed lightsaber, of course!

Lightning! She uses it at every opportunity. Her teammates don't really like being near her on the battlefield, because sometimes it's dangerous for their health. (In general, if we talk about the game itself, every time she attacks enemies - there is literally a thunderstorm field created, which shoots lightning at everyone around). (This is actually the first picture I've drawn with her)

She really likes spaceships. Her ship, the Gravestone, Moff Pyron's fleet. The eternal fleet generally delights her

She had a flagship called "Epiphany" while she was on the dark council, and I'm sure she would have named any ship that would become her flagship the same way

I'm pretty sure she loves droids too. Except for SCORPIO (there's no reason for me to keep her alive) (but she still thinks SCORPIO was funny)

She kept Senya and Arcann alive just to observe and influence the people of Zakuul (it's always easier to control people when you pretend to be their friend). At that moment, she thought that she would use the people of Zakuul to overthrow Vaylin. Well, that's pretty much how it worked out, wasn't it?)

The second reason - she thinks they are hilarious. (Omg Arcann have so deep voice, i love it, really)

If the Sith draw power from some emotions, then the core emotion of Ha'leth is passion. For life, people, power, wealth, influence and so go on. I also think she found some kind of balance during her "vacation" with Satele and ghoust of Darth Marr in Odessen's Jungle

She definitely thinks that Dark Council meetings are pretty boring. Especially when all sorts of showdowns and redistribution of power begin instead of solving real issues. (I'm sure that the Sith spend half the council time arguing before getting down to business) I also have pictured this long ago ("what the f, gosh")

She one of the most powerful sith in the galaxy, but mostly hides her presence.

There's really no reason for this. She just likes to pretend she's weak and then smear everyone who underestimated her.

Yeah, she's done this trick countless times.

Unpacking ancient tombs is a favorite pastime. I laugh at this post every time I see it

She tried to flirt with every powerful Jedi who joined the Alliance just to see how they would react

I wrote in the previous post with screenshots from the last chapter that she might have problems with her head. Especially because of all this mess with the force ghosts. So... it's part of my headcanons now

I'm sure she has three "main" masks - behaviors that she uses depending on the situation. And maybe a few more. I'm pretty sure that people who know her well can tell when she switches from one role to another.

Just imagine Darth Nox, the Commander, and Ha'let Kallig in the same room, assuming they're all the same person.

[souperbloom]

deffo need some subtle sub!luke in my life - maybe y/n and the guys are all talking about sex lives & one of them slips out that luke once mentioned wanting y/n to be in control because it was usually the other way round, so later on they give it a go!

nothing too extreme, just y/n making decisions, praising luke & being on top etc

you don’t even want to know the sound that came out if my mouth when i got this notification.

(if u requested this reveal yourself.) (im joking.) (maybe.)

enjoy <3

————————

secrets, secrets. [L.H.]

🖤 boyfriend!luke

after what seems to be a secret revealed, you and your boyfriend Luke try something new in the bedroom.

a/n: FIRST LUKE SMUT WOOOO. i wrote most of this while listening to classical music which i just think is so silly and on brand for me. i also had a last minute epiphany and changed the title whoops.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed/smoking, angst if you squint, sub!luke (duh), pet names, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), orgasm denial, protected sex.

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You hadn’t checked the clock for what seemed to be hours.

The guys and yourself had been wrapped up in a heated discussion sitting in a circle in Calum’s living room, all stoned on your own accord.

The conversation had been flowing since the moment you all sat in your respective places, turning from lighthearted banter into something much more vulgar than you were used to. You all hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, which meant there was a lot of ‘catching up’ to be had.

But you weren’t quite sure how the simple conversation of ‘how have you been?’ morphed into something along the lines of: ‘have you ever had a dirty dream about me?’

"You’re lying! I can see it in your eyes!" An eager Michael shouts across the room at his dear friend, and your boyfriend, Luke. You watch the entire ordeal unfold perched atop Luke’s restless thigh.

He tries to hide a measly smile, as Michael has caught his bluff.

"Okay, fine… It was one time. Nothin’ to fuckin’ write home about."

"How does that even happen?" Calum, baffled, rubs his hand on his chin.

"It means he thinks about ya’ before he goes t’sleep," says Ashton confidently, motioning towards Luke with a cheeky grin.

"No! That’s not— no."

"Luke, c’mon. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure we’ve all had some pretty fucked up dreams about each other." Michael tries his hand at consoling your boyfriend, whose cheeks were now glowing red.

"I’m not embarrassed. You just— you forced it out of me. A man’s allowed to have secrets, y’know."

Secrets.

It always came back to telling secrets.

You’d like to think that you had a pretty open and honest relationship with your boyfriend, as well as his best friends.

But there were still some things about them that you didn’t know.

And you were afraid you were about to find them out.

"Speakin’ of secrets…" Ashton begins, adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, "…I’ve got one."

Bingo.

"Go ahead. This is a safe space," you say teasingly, trying not to acknowledge the fact that you had been so high for the majority of this conversation that you had completely forgotten to speak.

"Ashton’s got a seeecreeeet." Calum teases Ashton in a singsongy tone, but Ashton’s face was reading more serious than anything. He clears his throat before speaking his mind.

"Call me crazy, but takin’ on the submissive role in bed has gotta be one of the greatest things on Earth. And if ya’ haven’t tried it, then you’re not livin’ right."

You quirk your brow, and take a look at the rest of the room. Each of the guys’ faces were contorted into a different stage of grief.

Michael was amused, clearly. His eyes were wide and glassy like he had just witnessed one of the Seven Wonders. Calum’s jaw was practically touching the floor, trying to bite back a smile that was so obviously hard to hide.

And then, there was Luke.

He wasn’t making a face— his expression was unreadable. The only thing you saw was his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He swallowed hard, and you noticed that.

"Dude… what? I did not expect that from you…" Michael was still in awe of his friend, as he cupped his cheek with his hand.

"Don’t make assumptions, Mikey. You only live once."

As much as you wanted to say you were shocked, you honestly weren’t. You didn’t know a whole lot about Ashton’s sex life, but this didn’t surprise you. He’s the kind of guy to try anything once.

"Well? Don’t be a prude… Tell us what happened."

"Y/N—" Luke blurts, seemingly attempting to stop this conversation from unfolding.

"What? Am I wrong for being curious?"

"No, no— I agree with Y/N," says Michael, "Since you wanna rave about your endeavors as a submissive princess… Tell us all about it."

Michael’s sly comment earns a snort from Luke, who had been trying to remain steely faced since the moment he had called him out for having sexual fantasies about him. You smile to yourself, eyes darting between Ashton and your boyfriend as their stare down commences.

"What’s so funny over there?" Ashton quips.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shoot down to his lap. "Nothin’."

"Ash, get on with it." Michael was fed up, and ready to hear all about what Ashton was so persistent about.

You can’t help but stifle a giggle as Ashton lets out a sigh. He was taking this a lot more seriously than you thought he would.

"I’m not sure what came over me— but there was this one time. I guess I was feeling particularly lazy er’ somethin’, but I asked her to take over for the night. I won’t get into the nitty gritty but let’s just say; it changed my fuckin’ life."

"I am way too high to be talking about this right now." Calum says, his eyes wide as he is still processing everything.

Ashton continues, "Somethin’ about the feeling of your fate lying in your lover’s hands is just so… exhilarating. You never know what’s gonna happen next— you learn to expect the unexpected… It’s fuckin’ great, man."

Upon Ashton's admission, your seat in Luke's lap shifts slightly. He adjusts you, pulling you closer into his torso and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Still can't picture it, but... I believe ya'," says Michael with a nod of approval. You laugh, feeling your boyfriend's fingertips drumming against your stomach.

"You guys ever tried it? Don't mean to pry but, as Y/N said, this is a safe space."

The room goes pin-drop quiet. Nobody wanted to speak up; not you, not Luke, not anybody else. It seemed as though this conversation had died out quicker than it came to be.

"Oh, come on. You guys are the freakiest fucks I know. Seriously? None of you?" Ashton presses the group for answers, his eyes landing on you. But you just shrug.

"I'm always on the bottom, Ash. You're preaching to the choir."

"Oh trust me, we know."

"Cal—" Your boyfriend huffs, cutting off his friend and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Confused, your eyes search around the room for any sign of an answer. You seemed to be out of the loop, which was unlike you in these kinds of situations.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You can’t help but get a little defensive, now zoning in on the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingernails anxiously biting into your waist.

"Nothing! He means nothing..." Luke tries to defend, his voice a bit pitchy.

You bite back a smile. “Secrets, secrets are no fun…"

"Unless they’re shared with everyone, fuck, I know! But you don’t have to—"

Calum butts in, "Mate, relax. I’m just messing around."

"No, no— don’t give me that bullshit. What were you trying to say Cal?"

You weren’t sure why, but feeling left out of some sort of inside joke or secret was making you angry. Your temper was mellowed from smoking, yet this whole back and forth was getting to you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Luke lets out a sigh from behind you, dropping his chin on your shoulder in defeat. He didn’t feel like arguing anymore, with the rest of the room dead quiet as they wait for Calum to speak.

Calum on the other hand was holding back a high smile. A look of ‘I know something you don’t know’ was plastered proudly across his cheeks. He rubs his hands together, glancing at Ashton and Michael before he opens his mouth.

"I know you pride yourself on being a pillow princess Y/N, but… Luke wants to see you in charge."

Immediately, your face flushes pink. You didn’t know what you were expecting Calum to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

It was almost as if everyone in the room was trying not to burst into laughter, Ashton and Michael slapping each other’s legs to get the other to stop snickering.

You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat, taking a second to look each of your friends in the eye.

"Well, this is news to me—"

"You fuckin’ suck, Cal." Luke blurts, embarrassment and anger laced through his tone.

As you sit cross legged, still perched on Luke’s thigh, you feel a tap at your lower back. This was your boyfriend’s cue; an unspoken means of telling you 'let’s get the fuck out of here.'

"I’m sorry," Calum laughs, "I didn’t mean t’ hit a nerve with that one."

"Luke, wait—" pleads Michael, who had been rather quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

"I think we’re gonna head out."

Soon enough, you’re rising to your feet, and your boyfriend is quick to follow. He grabs your bag from off of the floor, scooting you closer into the awkward energy of the circle. The rest of the guys just look at you in pity, but you were far too busy in your own head to notice their stares.

Luke wanted you to be in charge?

"Can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to," Ashton shrugs, clasping his hands together between his knees, "I guess we’ll see you two tomorrow?"

You purse your lips to reply to Ashton, watching your boyfriend feverishly pack up your belongings and shift you towards the nearest exit. But Luke is quicker than you, cutting right to the chase.

“Yeah, sure. Somethin’ like that."

The entire car ride back to Luke’s apartment was silent.

You were still hung up on how awkward those last few minutes had played out; but a part of you was just dying to know more about Luke’s little secret.

Pushing boundaries was something that you hadn’t yet considered when it came to you and your boyfriend. Your relationship was fairly new; with the both of you still testing the waters and occasionally stepping out of your comfort zones.

Luke was excellent at reading you. He paid very close attention to detail, which was one of the things that had you falling so hard for him in the first place.

But there was a piece of you that felt guilty for prying this all out of him, the way his entire demeanor seemed to drop when Calum spilled his beans. He was embarrassed, from what you could tell. And you weren’t quite sure what to do.

"Luke?" You pop your head out of the bathroom door, your face wash in hand, looking into your master bedroom at Luke splayed across the mattress. He’s still fully dressed, laying flat on his back with his shoes hanging off of the side.

You, however, took it upon yourself to get ready for bed. You took off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and changed into a little plaid pajama-short set to try and get your mind off of the awkward energy still floating in the air.

"Luke…" He hadn’t replied the first time you called out his name, so you tried your luck again. This time, he just sighed, before turning his head to face you.

His sandy blonde curls were haphazardly strewn across the made comforter. His body restless, as he drummed his hands along his abdomen and waited for you to reply.

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Mhmm."

Your shoulders drop in defeat, your eyes still lingering on his lanky frame. He lets out a deep breath before looking at the ceiling again, gnawing on his bottom lip mindlessly.

"I’m sorry," you say, "I didn’t mean to embarrass you."

"You didn’t."

His short replies were making your stomach churn. It was unlike the both of you to be so cautious with each other, walking on eggshells in hopes that the other would just let up and speak their mind. You didn’t want to make it worse, either— it seemed like this affected him, and the last thing you needed was for it to be your fault.

You turn back to face the bathroom counter, continuing your nightly skincare. But from behind you, you hear shuffling. The sole of a shoe hitting the floor, then another. The sound of a jacket unzipping, and pooling to the floor as well.

You could see Luke’s slouched posture in the mirror through the doorframe, watching him slowly rid himself of his clothes and leaving him in nothing but his grey t-shirt and pink heart boxers. The ones you gifted him for Valentine’s day.

The water was warm as you started to wash your face, warm enough to let yourself relax for a moment. It dripped down your forehead, into your eyes, momentarily shielding you from your surroundings as you bent over the sink.

In your daze, you turn the faucet off, your eyes screwed shut and vision starry. But as you blindly reach around the counter for a towel, you feel someone hand it to you.

"Here," the familiar voice drawls from behind you, before you feel a broad hand slither around your waist.

You let out a whimper from the back of your throat, unable to say "thank you" now, as you grab the towel from Luke’s hand realize his hips are digging into your backside.

When you dry your face and regain your vision, you stand upright. Luke’s torso is warm, and inviting, his blistered palm making headway beneath your shirt to drag across your torso. In the mirror, you see his face contort into a mellow smile, his curls pushed back away from his eyes.

"Hi," You whisper into the mirror, water dripping off of your eyelashes and down your cheek.

"Hi, pretty."

"Are you mad at me?" You hated asking that question.

"Of course not, why would I be mad at you?" Luke replies, pulling you into his cotton t-shirt.

"You seemed like you were a few minutes ago." The feeling of his fingertips was getting to be distracting.

"No, no. It was just— something I’d been meaning to tell you but… I just never got around to it."

"Oh."

His other hand has made it to your waist. "Are you mad at me?"

"Never."

"Good to know."

For a moment, the two of you stare at your reflections in the mirror. Luke’s eyes rake down your body, his hands still wandering along the delicate skin of your tummy beneath your shirt. You sigh into him, leaning backwards to rest your head on the crook of his neck.

"Wanna try something new tonight?" He asks, his voice huskier than before and mumbling into the top of your head.

"Mmm, like what?" You were unable to hide your melodic hums as his hands move closer beneath your breasts.

You already knew what Luke was going to ask of you, the excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach as his eyes wandered, pretending to think.

To be honest with yourself, you had already thought a lot about what’d it’d be like if you two switched places for a change. But you were always too nervous to bring it up, especially in the heat of the moment.

"Want you t’ be in charge tonight, pretty. Do whatever you want t’me. Think you’d be interested?"

"Yes," you breathe without even a second thought, entranced by his fingertips as they creep towards the waistband of your shorts, "I’d love to."

"Sounds good t’me."

Not a second passes before Luke is spinning you around to face him. He dips down, and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, leaving you with a fuzzy head and a fluttering stomach.

When you pull away from him you notice the twinkle in his ocean blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was a look of anticipation. Pure excitement. You were about to try something new with the person you loved most in this world, and he was about as thrilled as you were.

You could just tell.

"How can I be good for you, pretty? Wanna be your good boy tonight."

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you figured it’d be best to just play it cool.

"Wellll—" You press your index finger to his chest, "Maybe start by getting on the bed?"

"Are you gonna come with me?" He asks sweetly, still holding you in his hands.

"Of course, baby… But I need you to just sit tight and wait for me, okay?"

He nods quickly, biting back a smile between his teeth before he’s shuffling out of the bathroom towards the bed. You linger in the doorframe for a moment, watching in complete awe as Luke crawls to the top of the mattress and sits with his back resting against the headboard.

Doing exactly what you had asked him to.

You start in slow strides towards him, swaying your hips with each step in hopes to kill some time.

You wanted to figure out a game plan. Since you’d never done this before, you weren’t sure where to start; and as much as it wouldn’t be shameful to ask Luke for advice, you wanted to impress him.

"Okay, done. Now what?" The anticipation in his voice made you want to just explode on impact. He was just the cutest fucking thing.

"Hmmm," you hum, crossing your arms as your eyes scan his body, "I’m gonna need that shirt off."

"Yes ma’am."

He then crosses his arms in front of his torso, pulling the hemline of his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side, revealing his bare chest sprinkled in sandy blonde chest hairs.

As you watch him move, you gnaw on your bottom lip, scanning down his practically naked body and thinking of all of the things you could do. All of the things you could do to make this right for him. To make this worth wild.

You glance down at your plaid pajama shirt, clad and held together by buttons that gap between your breasts.

And then, you get an idea.

"You ready for me baby?" You ask your boyfriend, whose legs had been crossing and uncrossing impetuously as he watches you near closer to the bed.

"Mhm."

"Gonna play a game with you, m’kay?"

"M’kay." He mocks your gentle tone.

Before you could explain the rules of this new, made-up game of yours, you start to move. Dipping one knee down into the mattress, then the other. You crawl to him, straddling his lap and settling down atop of his obvious hard-on.

He was turned on just by the thought of you.

"It’s very easy," you start to say, reaching for the first button of your blouse, "and there’s only one rule."

Luke’s hands hover around you awkwardly, unsure of where to rest them, unsure if he was even allowed to touch you at all.

"What is it?" He asks, swallowing and adjusting himself beneath you.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His eyes widen. He had finally noticed your hand lingering and toying with the button on your top.

"You’re pretty, baby. The prettiest."

And with that, the first button comes undone. You move your hands down to the second.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip, his hands now stagnant at his sides and twitching by your calves.

"You’re so pretty. Prettiest girl in the world."

Second button, undone.

"Tell me I’m pretty, baby. Tell me again."

As you reach for the third button, you make a point to grind your hips down, swiveling them in a way that he’d feel it. His face contorts in bliss, petal pink lips parting slightly.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty… Prettiest I’ve— ever seen."

Third button, undone.

"Tell me more, baby. Tell me again."

You grind your hips down again, and a soft whimper escapes the back of his throat. You could feel his hands fidgeting down by your legs, reaching out to touch something that wasn’t even there.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… My pretty girl— ah—" He's cut short with another dig of your hips. The paper thin material of your pajama shorts leaving absolutely no room for the imagination. You could practically feel his cock twitching beneath your core, but you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

With his last words of affirmation, you undo the last two buttons on your own accord. The breeze from the air conditioning makes you shiver, instantly perking up your nipples.

Luke noticed that, too. He always does.

"So, so pretty…" He utters with one last labored breath, as if it were the last he’d ever take, upon seeing your chest.

"You did so good for me, didn’t you baby?"

Luke hums quietly, clearly feeling some sort of release due with the pressure of your body on top of him. You notice his hands trembling still, down at his sides and oblivious to the thought of touching you.

"You can touch me, y’know. Been’ such a good boy for me so far."

The eye contact between you was like trance; it was gentle, and warm. Still wavering with uncertainty, yet eager to continue. Luke’s hands eventually make it to your waist, something he had been dying to do since the moment you straddled his hips.

You could tell he was still hesitant to let his fingers roam as they usually would, and that was definitely getting to your head.

You swivel your hips one last time without a single word, dipping down to kiss him. Your hands are quick to cup his face, lips interlocking eagerly for the first time since this morning.

It’s not long before your tongues begin exploring, tangling together in the sweetness of your kiss.

You’re still grinding your hips. He’s still in a trance.

Luke’s hands had moved to grip your ass, pushing it down while simultaneously bucking his hips up into your core. This action of his makes you disconnect from him for a moment, a disapproving look in your eye.

"Ah ah ah," you tut at him, his cheeks now squished between your palms. He quirks his brow.

"What?"

"Not so fast, pretty boy. You said I could do anything, right?"

He chuckles, eyes flicking down to your lips, "I did say that, didn’t I? You're right, baby. Tell me whatcha' need from me... I'm all yours."

You suck in a deep breath, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that keep poking at your head and telling you to just let him have his way with you. You wanted to remain stern, whether he took you seriously, or not.

"How about this…"

You let go of his cheeks to shrug your pajama shirt off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the floor next to his tee. His pupils shake, eyeing down your breasts.

"…You don’t get to cum ‘till I say so."

"Oh, fuck— you're too good t'me..." His voice is soft and melodic, already so willing to give up the power he usually claims. "Yes. Yes..."

Your palms lay flat on his broad chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

He was anxious; anxious in the way that one more subtle touch to his flesh would send his heart thumping right through his ribcage.

You couldn't contain your excitement anymore; just looking at him was already creating a slickness in your panties.

But Luke could've stared at you for hours.

"Are you sure, Lu?" You ask once your delicate boy once more, tracing little hearts with your pointer fingers across his pecs. He nods eagerly, eyes going doe.

"Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. Have your way with me, please."

With a tug at your bottom lip, you take his words as your cue. You're quick to take out a condom from Luke's bedside dresser, and even quicker to shift your ass down to rest on his thighs.

As you move, his stare lingers. He nods at you slowly, to remind you of his approval. How desperately he wanted you to have your way with him.

His cock twitching and practically popping through the button of his boxers was already telling you everything you needed to know.

To try and read his eager pleas, you begin to palm him delicately through the pink heart fabric, heavenly sounds spilling past his lips and floating to your ears like a siren's melody.

He was grunting, whining; almost as if he were in pain.

"Easy now, baby," you coo gently, as a shiver runs down Luke's body, "Still my good boy, right?"

"Mmmmph."

"Good, good. Just like that, pretty baby." You squeeze your hand around his length, and his jaw falls completely agape.

You weren't planning on teasing him for much longer. It almost felt cruel to do so.

So, instead of waiting any more, you release him from the button of his boxers.

His tip was already leaky with precum; angry and red, that angelic face of his melting the second you wrap your manicured fingers around his shaft.

Tipping down to take him into your mouth, you hollow out your cheeks, tongue laying flat against him as you start to bob your head.

Sucking him off had always been one of your favorite things to do. In your head, it gave you a purpose— and you always loved the praise that would come with it.

But with the power dynamic now in your favor, you were already enjoying it all the more.

"Fuck me, pretty... So fuckin' warm..." Luke groans through gritted teeth, taking his hands to comb through your hair. You hum at him, sending a vibration down your tongue and directly through his body. He jolts, as if he’d been struck by lightning, while your hands begin to claw at his hipbone.

The walls of Luke's bedroom felt like they were closing in on you, each heaving breath that he was taking was making you dizzy. Your nails leave little crescent etchings deep into his flesh, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time you duck down.

"Fuck... fuck fuck fuck–" He grunts, he whines, he continues to writhe beneath you, completely at your disposal. You were eating up every single sound he made, every little spasm of his hands or jerk at his hips.

Picking up on the signs, you could tell he was close. He didn't even have to say it.

"Y/N... I–I'm..." He can barely even finish his thought before he's grabbing your hair in a handful. You always loved it when he was a little rough with you, and this time was no different.

With a tug at your roots, you hum around him again. His body comes lurching forward, almost as if to stop himself from fucking your throat.

"Baby– M'close..." He finally utters, which brings you to toss your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whisper, watching his cock fall thump against his stomach and twitch here and there, "You’ve been so good for me so far."

"I have?" He asks the question sweetly, genuinely. With a little twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, of course you have, my pretty baby…" you say, running the back of your hand down his belly, "Gonna keep it up for me, right?"

"Yes."

"Such a good boy."

Luke tosses his head back, his bottom lip held captive by his teeth, and lets out a whine the moment you start to get off of him. The fact that he was whining at the loss of your touch was enough to send you over the edge right then and there, but you wanted to keep your promise.

You hastily discard your pajama shorts, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Luke whimpers again upon seeing you naked— you didn’t bother to wear your panties tonight.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N… My pretty little flower—" Luke sighs, in awe of you, despite the lingering sexual tension in the air. He always made it a point to compliment you, no matter the scenario.

"Thank you, Lu," You can’t help but giggle and blush, making your way back to his lap to straddle him.

Again, his hands find your waist. He sucks in a deep breath, eyes wired shut.

After only doing this for a little while, you were already comfortable talking to Luke in a more dominant way. The trick was to not think about it too hard. Just let the words roll right off of your tongue.

Simple enough, right?

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby." Your words are soft like down pillows yet loud enough to get a rise out of him. He shifts beneath you, still closing his eyes.

"Fuck me… please? I’m achin’ for you."

You take his pleas as your sign to start, wet enough from merely the obscene sounds spilling from his lips. The condom you had grabbed was still at your side so, you rip the package open with your teeth.

When you start to roll the condom down over his length, he lets out a hiss. Could have been the temperature; or maybe he was just too desperate to be ashamed of his sounds.

"Shit—" He whines, clutching onto your hips as your hand pumps his cock a few times.

"Easy, baby," you purr, adjusting yourself upwards to line him up with your dripping slit, "You ready for me?"

"Mhm— yes… yes please, angel. Please— fuck me."

His throaty cries only furthered the butterflies floating around in the pit of your stomach. You could barely contain yourself as you hover over him, biting your lip as you sink down onto his cock.

The both of you let out a collective groan; the feeling of him filling you up completely just seemed too perfect.

You lower your body so that you completely engulf him, taking his length fully and making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Feels good, pretty baby?" You ask, still buzzing.

"Mmph—" He whines, anchoring his hands to your hips as you start to swivel.

"Need you to use your words, Lu… Tell me."

You’re gentle with him, at first. Treating him delicately, like picking off the petals off a daisy. He seemed so weak beneath you and something about it was making your head spin. Your heart was bursting at the seams.

"Yes, Y/N— Feels s’fuckin’ good—" Luke whimpers, digging his fingernails into you, and holding onto you with his entire soul fleshing through his fingertips.

His cock twitches inside of you, as you continue your rhythm of grinding hips. It’s easy for you to tell when to pick up speed, testing his limits by his face alone.

"Such a good boy, baby.. You’re doing so fuckin’ well."

You start to notice the familiar furrow of his brow, that concentrated little notch in his forehead.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t seem to look away

"Y/N, I—"

He says your name again. It’s syrupy, like honey dripping off of his tongue. You place your palm flat on his tummy, tossing your hair out of your eyes to match his gaze.

"Takin’ my pussy so well, aren’t you?" You ask him, but don’t expect an answer. His face of concentration was telling you all you needed to know. How hard he was working to please your demand.

"Mmm… Th-think’ m’doin’ a good job…" He nods slowly, and you smile.

"Oh baby, you are… Keep goin’, m’kay?"

He smiles with a hum, through heavy, bated breaths.

"M’kay."

The sweaty flurry of blonde curls and baby blue eyes was slowly starting to unravel. The rise and fall of his chest was rapidly picking up speed, before he started to snap his hips up into you.

A slapping sound engulfs the walls of his bedroom, but you have no reason to complain. His cock was stretching you out, hitting that sweet spot with every stroke.

"Fuck, Lu—" You can’t help but revert to your old ways; yet not completely giving in, and letting him hold the reins. He was still beneath you, practically melting as your bodies entwine.

And that, was an incredible feeling.

"Y/N—" he whines, broken by panting, "m’close."

You nod sloppily, your tits bouncing at the speed of your swiveling hips.

"Hold it, baby— still my good boy, right?"

"Yes, yes… I am, Y/N. M’ a fuckin— a fuckin’ mess for you…"

A catty smile sprawls across your cheeks, feeling your orgasm budding lowly in the pit of your stomach, and satisfied at the way you had him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Mhm, yes you are. Such a pretty mess..."

Your orgasm was on the brink now, ready to burst and run through your body. Sloppy sounds filled the air; panting, whining, groaning. It was all meshing in your ears like the tune of a fucking song.

You felt your face tinge pink upon seeing your boyfriend’s concentrated expression, feeling a tad bit sorry for being so demanding.

So, you finally decide to let go.

"Cum with me, baby—" You gasp.

"Wha—"

"Let it go, Lu. Been s— so good for me, fuck!"

And with that, stars and galaxies are fogging your vision. You let out a cry as you finish, your walls clenching tightly around Luke’s cock as he does the same. He gives one last quick snap of his hips before you’re collapsing completely, going limp on his chest with him still inside of you.

You could hear his heart thumping through his chest; your sweaty bodies practically letting sparks fly. His hand moves to rub your back, as you both collect your devices.

"Was I good enough, baby?" He asks sweetly, that soft voice from before coming into play and making your stomach flutter.

"More than enough."

He giggles; seeming a bit shy about the semantics of it all, before planting a kiss at the crown of your head.

You can see his eyelashes fanning against the apples of his cheeks, glistening in the light of your bedroom as he grins up to the ceiling.

"I’m glad," he beams, "And you were right, by the way."

You pop your head up from his chest to look him in the eye. "About what?"

"Should’ve told ya’ about this a lot sooner."

With a shake of your head, you tut at him teasingly, just happy to feel closer to him than you ever have before.

"Guess it’s not a secret anymore."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

I and @aquinnix co-wrote this fic, Zed And Scar’s Guide on How Not To Do Basic Science, for @hermitadaymay’s Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event!

My chapters, “Gravity, Velocity, and Basic Physics” and “Conductivity and Meteorology”, are below the cut!

Gravity, Velocity, and Basic Physics

Honestly, neither of the culprits, who also happened to be the victims, could remember how it began.

But where it started was certain. At a sheer cliff-face on a particularly tall mountain whose peak reached past the clouds.

Zed planted his hands on his hips, squinting past the blindingly white snow up to the flat landing some hundreds of blocks upwards. “All the way up there?”

Scar nodded, his face painted in a grin far too genuine to be real. “Yup! I mean, I’ve seen mountain goats make it up there, and sheep too, and some chickens, and the occasional horse, so why couldn’t you?”

“I mean, why not? It’s technically science! Because… gravity!”

“Yeah! Good luck!”

Zed almost immediately regretted his classification of the request as science. Most of the cliff was nearly vertical, with only the tiniest footholds for his hooves. And he wasn’t exactly used to walking on solid rock and slippery gravel and fresh snow, so the whole affair hurt like the dickens.

From somewhere down below, Scar called up what could be called encouragement. “You’re doing great! I can hardly see you, but I’m sure you’re doing great!”

“Thanks, I think? Oh, and how do you intend to get up here? I can’t be doing this all by myself! Science is cooperative, after all.”

A pause. He had not considered this whatsoever. “Uh. Well. I think I’ve got ender pearls in here somewhere…”

“Break your feet if you wanna.” Zed resumed climbing for a moment, but then he had an epiphany. “Wait. Don’t you have wings?”

“Wings. Wings? Oh, yeah, wings! I’m a half-vex, so I can fly! Right!” Manifesting the half-transparent, and honestly kinda pathetic flappers, Scar made for the cliff at a pitiable pace. “I’ll be right there!”

“Sure you will. See you at the top!”

Putting his all into not slipping off and falling and certainly dying, Zed made a mad scramble out of the rest of his climb. Externally, the whole affair looked rather desperate and haphazard. Internally, he was exclaiming ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow with every new hoof- and hand-hold.

But somehow, he made it.

Collapsing into a panting heap among the snow and grass, he only rose when a scream echoed from somewhere below. Popping his head over the edge, Zed saw Scar dangling from a single outcropping (that he had conveniently missed on his own ascent), beating his wings into a hurricane in an attempt to stay aloft.

“ZEEEEEEEEEEED HEEEEEEEEEEEELP MEEEE—”

“Oh, you’ll be fine! And I surely have something to drop you…” Rooting around his pockets, the scientist produced a few arms-lengths of useless sewing string, a bundle of spider eyes, and, finally, a good, sturdy chain about as long as a spruce can grow tall. “Grab on!”

Without looking over the edge, Zed dropped the chain, which had a soulfire lantern on one end, and a caldron on the other. Dropping the lantern down, he anchored the caldron with a swiftly collected bucket of powder snow before bothering to check on Scar. Evidently, from the noises alone, he was still terrified.

“Zed? Zed? Zed, you’re gonna bring me up, right? Right? Zed?”

“Of course! But this is another chance for science! There’s something called velocity I’m rather interested in. And you might be the perfect test subj— I mean, assistant for the job! Interested?”

“I mean, if it gets me up this cliff, yeah! Go ahead and do science!”

“Gladly!” Promptly downing a potion he found in his pockets, which was probably strength, he planted both hooves and grasped the chain. “Hold on tight, until you’re going so fast you can’t handle it!”

“Why would I be going fast wait wait wait this is fast this is reaAAAAAAAAA—” Quickly returning to screaming, Scar indeed hung onto the chain for dear life as Zed put his whole body, which wasn’t much but was still something, into swinging him around in the air. Not very far in the air, mind you, but he was still airborne.

The screaming continued for an almost concerningly long amount of time, before Scar finally let go and was launched into the near distance. A tiny streak of blue and noise, Zed watched him depart happily.

Until he hit a tree. Face-first.

“Ooooh. Let’s mark that as human error… Aww, I don’t have my notes. Where could they have gone?”

One place, obviously. The ground beneath the cliff. Peering over the edge again, Zed spotted the book, the quill, the bottles of ink, the ink still in the sacks, the backup quills, and everything he needed to record his science, at the base of the cliff.

“Oh. Well. I do need to get whatever Scar dropped.”

He began the desperate scramble but in reverse, twice as terrified thanks to the dying light of the setting sun. The chorus of ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow returned in his head, and every so often he’d halt and start fiddling with his comms box to calm his nerves.

One of those times, he managed to leave it open and floating as he began descending again.

Of course, Scar chose that moment to ping him.

goodtimewithscar: Zed?

Yelping in fear and surprise, Zed performed his usual reaction.

A small jump.

The last thing he remembered from that afternoon was seeing his notes a split second before everything went black.

-

At least he remembered to record his observations the next morning.

“Note to self, falling off a cliff results in the worst back pain this side of getting kicked by a horse.”

Conductivity and Meteorology

Thunder sounded for seemingly the millionth time that evening, cracking Zed’s ears open again. It was loud enough to shake his cabinets, sending the pots and pans rattling. That noise gave him an idea, an idea that began bouncing in his brain harder the more the rain drove into the ground and the closer and closer the lightning became.

Who would be awake at this hour? he thought, and more importantly, who would hear me out?

He wasn’t on speaking terms with Cub after what had gone down in the shopping district, and Impulse was almost certainly still after his head for that thing with the cats. Grian wanted his hide for that incident with the fish, Cleo had sent multiple letters over that display he destroyed, and Scar…

Oh, he would do perfectly.

-

“Why did you want me to bring all my cutlery?” Scar asked, as he placed several shulker boxes on the kitchen table, their metal contents clattering.

“I didn’t even know you had that much cutlery.” Zed clapped his hands together out of sheer excitement. “This is perfect! You got the string?”

He produced several spools from his pockets. “Yeah..?”

Zed took up his largest pot and one of the forks. “Start tying things together. We’re going to capture lightning in a bottle.”

There was no hesitation. “Okay! Uh, is the string going to be enough? Your pots are quite big.”

“Don’t phrase it like that. And yeah, maybe we need something more. Got any wax?”

“…No? Maybe? Actually, let me check.”

He commenced a great rummaging in his pockets, pulling out boxes and bundles, tearing through piles of wood and stone and what seemed to be concrete. Zed started getting nervous when he began tossing terracotta around his kitchen.

“Did I catch you at a bad time, mate? You’ve got an awful lot of construction material on hand.”

Scar looked up, not even stopping in his search through gravel and dirt. “Huh? No, this is just what I happened to have on hand. Raw iron, moss, wool, oh! Even a lighting rod! Dyes, wheat seeds—”

“Did you just say you have a lighting rod, Scar?” Zed’s hooves began to drum in excitement. “Three copper, arranged in a line? An honest-to-Void lightning rod?”

”Jeez, calm down. Yeah, it’s a lightning rod. Wait, do you want to use it? To catch the lighting?”

“Yeah! I don’t know how yet, but that’s the beauty of the scientific method. Try, try, try again, and if you fail, try yet again! After all, what’s death in the face of great discovery? Or great fun!”

-

Zed stood looking at his newest contraption with pride. A monstrous shape of pots and pans with forks sticking out like so many feathers, her head, a kettle, was crowned with a lightning rod horn. It was terribly unwieldy and amazingly magnificent. She was also very, very heavy, and they had no chance at moving her anywhere.

“So… got any minecarts?”

“Nope!”

“I guess she’s staying here, then. Here’s to hoping that Seraphina won’t burn down the forest!”

“Cheers, Serena!”

“It’s Seraphina, Scar. Now all we’ve got to do is wait.”

”For what?”

Of course, lighting chose to strike Seraphina right then, thunder clapping barely a moment later. The flare momentarily blinded both of them, and while Zed instinctively dove for cover, Scar summoned his wings and flew directly upwards. And, being possessed of something akin to sense, he was wearing a good, sturdy, metal belt buckle.

Zed only stuffed himself deeper into his front yard’s bushes when Scar screamed. It was by no means a new noise, nor an entirely surprising one, but its length indicated that he wasn’t quite dead yet.

And a thump indicated that he had returned to the ground. At speed.

Finding some half-intact goggles in a pocket, Zed carefully wiggled out of his bush to tend to the half-vex. Very singed, very burned, and having lost his shirt to the storm, Scar was groaning mostly out of pain, but also out of annoyance.

“Ugh. I hate respawning after fire stuff. And I can’t see! You there, Zed?”

“Yeah. And I’m fresh out of healing potions. You want me to make it quick, or do you want to stick it out?”

“Let me die naturally, please. Losing my head always gives me the most annoying neck pain. Is Sofia intact?”

“Seraphina. And yes, she’s fine. I can attach the bottle and we can get our captive lighting bolt in no time. Just stay put.”

-

Scar groaned again, this time out of boredom. “Zed, how long has it been?”

“Long enough. Are you sure you don’t want me to end it?”

“Yes, let me live for now. I think I can see the sun!”

“That’s the moon. And it’s still pouring.”

”Aww, my nerves must be shot. Wait, if it’s night, do we need to worry about mobs?”

“Probably not. Xisuma made me light this whole area to the Nether and back, after the enderman incident.”

Another arc of lighting struck some far-off lightning rod, giving Zed another reason to sigh. Seraphina wasn’t particularly tall, barely making it to the second floor of his house, and her rod was hardly the only one in the area. Most of his neighbors had the good sense to put one up.

“I am this close to going over there and stealing their lightning rods.”

Scar seemed to groan in response, deeper and longer. And again. And again…

Wait. That wasn’t Scar groaning. Scar was screaming again.

“Zed? Zed! Get over here! It’s zombies!”

”Of all the—“ Pulling out his sword, he ran to the only shadowed spot in his garden. Three zombies and a skeleton were shambling out of the darkness, and Scar was desperately scooting away, trying to nock an arrow on his bow.

“Get down!” With a swipe, he took one zombie across the chest, sending it stumbling back. “Put the Hot Guy away, too! You’re more likely to get me than any of these!”

“Aww, let me try! OUCH!” Before he could even loose an arrow, the skeleton sent one through his shoulder. “Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow—”

“This is too much for me. Sorry, Scar!” In one movement, Zed put his sword through the heart, and Scar turned into light. “I can’t let my assistant have a useless arm in addition to blindness. Now, would you four lay off? I’ve got science to do!”

-

Four destroyed mobs and an annoying arrow to the leg later, Zed had refitted Seraphina with a bottle on the… hoof? Foot? One of the sticky-outy bits that anchored her to the ground, and he was waiting for lightning to strike for the third time. Judging by his clock (which he thought worked, probably), he had two hours of night before the storm inevitably passed. Another boom sounded, in the far off mountains.

Void below, this was boring without Scar.

Zedaph: Is anyone else awake out there?

The radio silence stretched on for a little longer than necessary before someone answered.

docm77: I am

Oh. That is. Interesting.

Zedaph: Hi there, late night buddy! Or should I say early morning buddy?

docm77: What’s keeping you awake?

Zedaph: Science! Wanna see?

Radio silence, again. Typical. Turning back to Seraphina, Zed almost shut his comms box when a response finally popped up.

docm77: Not like I have anything better to do

-

Doc almost immediately regretted his decision.

“Why… no, what is the purpose of this?” He gestured at the giant pile of pots and pans and forks and buckets and scrap metal and old weapons and a single lightning rod. “I assume you want to conduct some electricity, but why?”

“I want to catch lightning in a bottle! And Seraphina here—“

“Of course you named it.”

“—is going to do it for me! Oh, and don’t look so glum, Doc. You don’t need to do anything but wait!”

“…fine.”

Settling down onto his hooves in a crouch, Doc couldn’t help but look around Zed’s front yard with concern. “Are you sure this place is mob proof? I can see a lot of shadows.”

“Don’t worry! X himself came over and certified it. I’ve got the paper somewhere in here.”

As he began rooting around in his pockets and Doc tried to count the number of forks on Seraphina, no-one heard the nigh silent footsteps of a creeper… well, creeping below the contraption.

And storm decided just then to send a bolt of lightning.

The creeper never saw it coming, but thankfully, Zed and Doc saw it easy enough. The surroundings were certainly dark enough for it.

“Hey Doc? Doc, why is the creeper glowing?”

“Don’t ask me, man! It’s your science!”

Zed began backing away very, very slowly. “I think it’s the creeper’s science now, mate.”

“You don’t say.”

“I mean, we kill it. Right? See what the lightning did to the insides?”

“No… No. This is your problem now.” Doc got up and pulled out a compass. “The nearest nether portal is a hundred and twenty blocks that way…”

Zed waved him a happy farewell. “Suit yourself! More science for me!”

In that time, the creeper had approached, creeping as best it could while glowing like a lantern. And then it did what creepers do.

-

Zed woke up the next morning in a lot of pain everywhere on the back of his body. It was a fascinating pain, like normal explosion remnants but somehow worse. He hurt especially badly on the back of the head and on his rear end, but it wasn’t anything debilitating. Yet.

Opening up his comms box, he found people conversing normally, Doc cursing his name for all to see, and Scar pinging him at least twice a minute.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

There was probably no use in replying.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Probably.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Okay, fine.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Zedaph: Yes, Scar?

goodtimewithscar: Finally! Did you get the lightning?

Huh. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Scar wasn’t actually mad.

Zedaph: No

Zedaph: Creeper got the lightning, and creeper got me

goodtimewithscar: Oh

goodtimewtihscar: Did you do science?

He smiled. Maybe it was worth the pain.

Zedaph: Yes! Lots!

[peakyswritings]

Epiphany

A/N: This is a little something I wrote very quickly to end the Celebrations. In Italy, during the night between the fifth and the sixth of January, an old lady called the “Befana” travels on her flying broom to fill children’s stockings with sweets. She’s a bit like Santa. Of course, this tradition doesn’t end when you’re a child and you know she’s not real (I’ve been eating chocolate all day🤭). And Ferrante family is no exception.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul.

“I’ll give you four pieces of candied orange if you give me one of your chocolate truffles.”

“Hell no,” Nina shook her head, almost offended by Salvatore’s poor offer. It would take way more for her to give up on her precious chocolate truffles.

As was tradition in the Ferrante house, the morning of the sixth of January was one for trading. The Befana had been, the previous night, and some serious negotiations were taking place around the Christmas tree. The three siblings were sitting on the floor, emptying the delicious content of their stockings, swapping chocolates, candies and biscuits of all sorts, trying to swing the most profitable deals. And although they weren’t children anymore, Epiphany morning never failed to bring back a bit of the magic that had been lost as they grew up.

“Five,” Salvatore increased his offer. “And two dried figs.”

“I’m not switching my truffles for fruit,” Nina said firmly, shaking her head. “But,” she raised her eyebrows, observing the sweets in front of him. “I’ll give you one if you also give me two of those chocolates you’ve got there.”

“I’m not switching my chocolates.”

“Keep your fruits, then.”

“Fine,” he sighed, causing her to smile in victory.

“Wait,” Pietro, who up until then had been silently pondering his next offer, finally spoke. “If you give that truffle to me instead of him, I’ll give you three chocolates. And two biscuits.”

“Sold,” she agreed, handing him the truffle.

“That’s unfair!” Salvatore protested.

Nina shrugged, happily grabbing her sweets. “He made a better offer.”

Pietro immediately ate his truffle, knowing too well that his brother wasn’t above taking it from him as soon as he got distracted.

Slightly scrunching his nose, Salvatore handed Nina the candied fruits anyway. “Take them, I don’t like them,” he said defeatedly. “How come you always get the better stocking anyway?”

“Cause I’m an angel.”

“Yes, with horns,” he muttered, earning himself a nudge from his sister’s sharp elbow.

Despite the provocation, Nina took pity on him, and gave him three chocolates and four candies. “Anyway, if you want the really good stuff you should check mum’s stocking. Dad always gives her the best chocolate,” she said, chewing on a candy stick.

In the Ferrante family, the Befana came in the form of Vincenzo Ferrante, who had the job of filling his children’s and wife��s stockings. As for himself… he was fine with stealing from his sons when they weren’t watching.

“She’s watching it like a hawk,” Salvatore murmured, peering at Pietro’s stocking. “Is that nougat?”

“I’ll give it to you if you give me six biscuits.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Done.”

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@mischievouslittlecreature @seedlings-stuff @misslittlegetou @lunarubra

[riansdiary]

New epiphany born and a new success story from my "change your thoughts" post!

I had another epiphany as I was teaching someone about the law.

3d = the newspapers

You/Us = the writer/the reporter of the news

4d/subconscious = the printer

The only thing we need to do or our job is to write what you want. Affirm/decide whatever your desired technique but please don't do it to get. It's like you're writing whatever as fast as you can and the result is a mediocre edition. Affirm to remind yourself it's done calmly. Be aware that whatever you say in your mind is what's gonna be in the latest news soon.

This is what I did just now before writing this post:

Rian thought of her desire. Before she writes, she asks herself "what do I want to see in the news?" Okay, what I wanna see is me having my desire.

"I already have it. It's done."

She even decided to do it like a reporter for the news in a funny way. Okay what is in the news for today, Rian?"

"Hello everyone! This is the news! I'm reporting the news for today and guess what? I have it! Rian has it!"

She thought of what she wanted to see therefore she wrote as the writer that she has it.

This is what's happening when you're wavering because you checked that it's not in the 3d yet:

You, the writer/journalist grabbed the newspaper from yesterday. You were finding where the latest news is.

"What the hell! I wrote it! Where is it? It's not here! The latest news is not here! What the heck did I do wrong? No!!! The latest is not here! How do I know what's happening?"

You were focusing on the newspaper from yesterday and you weren't writing a new one! The writer simply forgot that she is the f*cking writer! She's the one who writes the new editions! No one writes it for her but herself! So you decide whether you want yesterday's newspaper or you simply write the latest news.

The writer has a choice. Does she just give up and copy the old newspaper or does she reject that and start writing the latest that she wants to see?

Accepting the 3d as facts and giving up is the writer deciding to just copy yesterday's edition. You affirming and reminding yourself you have it is the writer choosing to write what she wants which is the latest.

Wanna see the latest, writer? Okay, this is what we do. Ask yourself what you want the latest news to be and start writing. You decide what the latest news is.

Once the writer has written whatever it is then it's done. Why? The writer is reporting on what has already happened. Once you want something, it instantly manifests in the 4D. Let's stop thinking of it as a process because that is when we feel scared or worried. Knowing it's already done is enough.

We then send it to the subconscious mind so it can print it for you. That's how it works and I hope this helps everyone understand the law a bit more.

I have another one though. Let's say you ordered online. That's us being a boss and doing our job which is ordering. Okay! The items will be delivered to you soon. You know that right? That's a good one too. You know it's done and there's no way it won't be delivered. It's the subconscious mind hearing your order (reminding yourself you have it) and printing that or delivering that to you. Now relax in the fact that you already have what you ordered/what you want.

Now about my success story. I said in my "change your thoughts" post that I'm manifesting a snack. I read it again today and decided to follow what I said. Shift into the version of me who has it. I dismissed the 3d and stepped into the shoes of the version of me who has it. The version of me who has that wouldn't find it, she knows where it is. It's in the pantry. She would relax because it's in the pantry so I forgot about that desire because I assumed it was in the pantry. I stopped seeing it as a process. I shifted my mindset about things now.

I stepped into the shoes of the version of me who has her dream life just now and I realized that the version of me wouldn't worry about sh*t!! Consider it done. You wouldn't worry about it if you have it.

I was annoyed at myself about finding it in the 3d at the moment but I reminded myself to leave the 3d alone. Don't look for it in the 3d. Duh, it's yesterday's newspaper but the news is gonna change. It's temporary. So I stopped myself from acknowledging the 3d. Okay, I shifted myself to the version of me who has it. All we need to do is accept we do have it! We shifted, okay congratulations! There's nothing left to do but keep accepting your desires are now facts! It's not our job to change the 3d so just leave it alone and forget about that.

Realize that as soon as you decide that you shifted and now you're the version of you who has it, there's nothing left to do but to remind yourself it's done. Ask yourself. What would you do if you already have it? Go and relax in the knowing it's done.

Again. Ask yourself. "Do you have your dream life?"

What would the version of you who has it say?

"I have my dream life. Why are you asking me?"

I decided to let the 3d do its job and I'm gonna do my own job which is to know it's done. I'm the version of me who has it so it's not a process anymore! Once I said I have it, It does not matter what the 3d says!

I'm just fully relaxed now that I know I have it. It's a law, it can never fail me. Whenever we find something in the 3d, it's like Neville telling Abdullah that it didn't work. That he's not in Barbados. He did not step into the mindset of already being in Barbados. Abdullah questions what he's saying because he's literally in Barbados. You're in Barbados. Door slam 🚪

You have your dream life, it's only you who's not accepting it. Leave the 3d alone and let it do its job. It's not your job to change it. Your only job is to know it's done. As soon as you ordered that shirt, you knew it was gonna come right? It's gonna be delivered. You didn't check if it's in the house when you ordered the shirt right? That's stupid. I know you're checking and said it's not there yet but you know you "bought" the shirt right? Meaning, it is yours 100%! You have no doubt while you were waiting for your package (whatever you bought from an online shop) because you know it's done and it's being delivered to you. So do what you would do when you're waiting for your package to come.

Sit back, relax and chill. Do what you wanna do. Continue living your life knowing it's done and just do what makes you happy. It will stop and distract you from checking. Also, you can check your mind instead. Be the version of you who has it and say "I have it."

Live in the reality where your desires are a fact. Disregard and leave the 3d alone. Say "all my desires are facts now so yes I do have it"

Our job is not to change the 3d but it's to know it's done meaning it's being delivered to you but at this moment you ordered it so technically you do have it. When you buy something online, as soon as you press buy, you know it's already yours.

The actual success story now. I was craving this cracker brand. I decided to disregard the 3d and think that it's in the pantry. I just relaxed in the knowing that it's in the pantry. I manifested it. It's done. I no longer made it a process. I just accepted I have it and relaxed. My dad and my siblings today then came home with the exact pack of crackers I wanted!

I also recommend the list method. It helps you realize and accept that you have whatever it is that you want. It's done. Consider your desires manifested and relax.

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋