#I thought I wrote 1000 words

[everylastbird]

I've been thinking of a soulmates style au wherein hualian discover they are soulmates after XL saves HC as a child.

In this AU meeting your soulmate is incredibly rare and very auspicious, so even though HC is a commoner he is recognized as XL's future spouse and taken into the care of the royal family, but sequestered away from XL to maintain decorum. They see each other now and again, and interact during events and gatherings, but otherwise are kept separated. HC is delighted and pines and generally dreams of the day he gets to officially marry XL and be his wife.

(I like to personally use the term 'wife' in danmei specifically to mean 'the spouse that marries into the home of the other', so as he is marrying into XL's home, he would be the bride in this scenario.)

XL ascends, as in canon. Unlike in canon, when a soulmate ascends, so too does your soulmate, and HC ascends with XL.

XL also descends and falls from godhood, as in canon. Ever so magnanimous, JW ~kindly~ allows HC to stay in heaven upon XL's request, as HC didn't break any rules. HC is, however, bound to the heavens, unable to descend to seek out XL.

Centuries pass, and HC becomes known as a God of constancy, faithfulness, and marriage. He is regarded with both awe and pity. Poor HC, who remains loyal to a faithless god of misfortune. Isn't it incredible, how much he is willing and able to endure to uphold the sanctity of his marriage vows? He has a large faction of worshippers, mostly brides and wives in arranged, unhappy marriages, who pray to him for strength.

Few, if any, remember that Xianle fell before HC had the chance to marry XL. That all this time he has remained steadfast and true to his fiancé, rather than his husband. The gods that do look upon him with scorn and judgment. No one expects him to remain loyal to the likes of XL, so who does he think he is putting on this show for?

It doesn't matter what those gods, or even what his worshippers think of him, however. HC is loyal to XL out of love, and devotion. He is not suffering out of obligation. His only pain is that felt by his fiancé, and the pain of separation forced upon him.

And despite what the gods and his worshippers assume, he is not a long-suffering bride who sits and pines for his beloved. While he yearns for the day he can reunite with XL, HC spends his time playing the long-con. After all, is the keeping of house and home not one of the primary roles of any good wife? And the heavens are so steeped in filth. Certainly not worthy of his husband to be.

As for XL, he strives and toils to regain his godhood under the weight of his lost worshippers and the scorn of the gods who once praised him.

More than that, he worries, often, about HC, and his misplaced loyalty. Every now and then XL hears another tale of HC's endless, unshakeable loyalty, but with those tales also come stories of that devotion being nothing more than a shackle. Nothing is ever said of HC's love for his husband, or HC's happiness, only his impressive endurance in the face of obligation to a worthless husband. XL fears that HC is little more than a long suffering would-be bride, held back by XL's mistakes and the fate that bound them together without either of their say.

So XL does his best to regain his godhood, so that he may re-enter heaven and finally free HC from himself for good.

When, after 800 years, XL finally ascends once again, nothing is as he had expected it to be. There is a crowd, but no one is casting judgment or disparaging him. Instead, it seems as though he has ascended amidst the start of a lavish celebration.

As XL stands amidst a sea of joyful revelry, a procession slowly makes its way towards him, and at its end, a bridal sedan.

When the sedan stops before him and a hand moves aside its curtain, XL reaches out to grasp it without thinking. Gently, he leads the bride off of the sedan and onto solid ground.

XL looks up at a veil of opaque crimson silk. He cannot see the face behind it, does not even know, after all this time, what HC would even look like... But in this moment he knows, unquestionably, that this is not just any bride, but his bride.

Part of XL recalls that one of his main reasons to rise to godhood again was to let HC go, to finally allow him freedom from the weight of being tethered to someone like XL. And yet, any thoughts of breaking his vows to HC dry up in his mouth. He has thought of so many ways to say it, so many ways to cut HC loose of him without bringing HC any more pain, but he cannot bring himself to say any of them.

The hand in his grasp turns, and laces their fingers together. His bride's hand is strong, XL observes as though from a distance, unflinching and sure.

"Hello, gege," HC says. His voice is deeper than XL remembers, richer and more vibrant than anything he has experienced for decades, if not centuries. 

"Ah, San Lang, I'm sorry, " he manages to force out through his shock. His laugh is pitchy and uneven even to his own ears. "I'm afraid I'm not quite prepared...!"

"It's okay, gege." A thumb carasses his knuckles tenderly, and XL's throat tightens. "I already have everything ready for us."

[milkbreadtoast]

(random) ngl before i started learning korean i felt like the worst failure of a korean but now i feel like the best failure of a korean (/j) HAHA

like im struggling to speak but least im speaking..!! I feel like I've restored an essential piece of myself that was missing...

[eggshell4bones]

got stressed now i am watching (normal) countdown with pencil in hand. i am Prepared. i hope i know all the letters And numbers that show up. fingers crossed

[chocosvt]

[howlingcommanddo]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Tumblr, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers Is Not Okay, Steve Rogers is So Done, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Is Not Okay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spider-Man is a stand up guy, steve is a little predictable Summary:

Steve Roger's finds Tumblr while clearling his mind after a argument with rest of the team about Bucky. Who is Beatstar_Buck and why does he know so much about Steve?

[life-in-winter]

Writing update 2

I finished draft 1.5 of the prologue! And now I have to rewrite almost all of it because it's kind of trash. But I'm surprised and proud of myself of getting this far! Because I've never written fiction this long before. And the quality of my writing improved towards the end as I discovered some knowledge gaps and worked to fix them.

My goal is to rewrite this now so that the quality of the entire chapter is at least on par with the quality of the writing at the end. My standard for me to actually share writing with the world is for it to be better than the worst book I read last year which, believe me, is not an incredible high bar.

[babygurltash]

mentally pouring gasoline on this work document

[gizdathemxel]

*gripping my hands so hard on a young trans persons shoulders that their bones are about to break*

do not log on to 4chan.com. do not get involved in passing olympics. you will always lose. do not put afab/amab* in your bio, that is cisgender society trying to know your “real” gender. you do not exist to please cisgender people. there is no ‘right’ way to be trans. learn your goddamn history, listen to your elders. listen to other disenfranchised groups. listen to intersex people and check yourself for intersexism. listen to trans poc and check yourself for racism. listen to disabled people and check yourself for ableism. be open to learning always. labels are meant to fit you, not the other way around. you are not weird or predatory for simply being attracted to others. you’re fine if you’re not a skinny white twink or a barbie doll. you’re fine if your body is ‘weird’. you’re fine if you don’t have heavy or any dysphoria. it’s okay if you actually don’t want to transition or anything like that. life is worth living at any stage, you deserve to be happy. I SWEAR THAT YOU ARE OKAY!!!!!

*ok editing this bc i think there are some major misunderstandings here and also ignorance on my part so lemme clear the air. when i wrote “don’t put tme/tma” in ur bio i did NOT mean to say that discussions around transmisogyny aren’t important or that tme/tma cannot be helpful terminology, and i’m super sorry that it came off that way. also editing bc someone pointed out to me that the original phrasing of this post is very misinforming, so to also clarify, tme/tma was a term invented by transfems to talk about transfeminine experiences which i will admit that i was unfamiliar with the history of tme/tma as a term and was introduced to it through some really bad online queer discourse. but it’s always been of my opinion that discussion around all forms of bigotry, including transmisogyny, are important and need to be had. i explained in a rb, which i’ll link when i have more time, that my issue was with the way the term is used as only identification/oppression olympics rather than genuine nuanced discussion about the ways that transphobia/transmisogyny/transandrophobia/etc function and interact with each other. i advised young trans people to not put tma/tme in their bios, bc i know that the wrong people (not just cis people, but transphobes and assholes who just want to get under your skin) would use any indication of your direction of transition to try and misgender you. or specifically in the case of tma/tme, tell you that your experiences/thoughts are not valid or reasonable bc you were tma or tma.

i realize how not originally clarifying that makes me look stupid (and a transmisogynist), so seriously, i’m sorry for that major mishap. tma/tme are not inherently bad words and you are 1000% allowed to use whatever terminology fits you and your experiences best. so as another word of advice: please do not let some rando on the internet tell you how you should talk about your experiences

(also idgaf if you don’t “log on” to 4chan or that it’s “not a website”, the fact that any of you know that is shameful and upsetting)

[teenagefeeling]

just saw this tweet posted on here with like 12k notes and it's honestly pissing me off???? bestie i was not assigned a single paper longer than 5 pages in all of high school and in college they varied a lot but i was also definitely expected to write 10 page term papers. im sorry you had really shitty teachers in high school who didn't explain this to you, but the reason they make you write so much is because you have to learn how to fully explain an idea and connect evidence to your arguments and generally just get practice structuring longer works. essay writing is a skill and you can get better (and much faster) at it with practice, which is what high school teachers are trying to introduce students to. it's about analytical thinking and learning how to draw conclusions and connections across topics, which is like, maybe the most important academic skill you could have imo. also why are you complaining about a works cited page? cite your fucking sources. it's not extra work it's literally part of the process. (without sources, you're not writing a research paper ur just writing an opinion essay. which is fine but probably not the assignment and also probably not gonna help u understand class material unless ur magically already familiar with it. in which case why are you in the class? you see how it makes no sense to complain about citing sources?)

like yes it's funny that college professors tend to be comparatively chill in demeanor from high school teachers (certainly not always tho!) but i don't think that means that college is less academically rigorous. college is by design much more challenging academically than high school is, and that does include literally just requiring more work. like this tweet is just straight up incorrect

[oscargender]

Made some really good progress on my novella today!!

[spencerreidenjoyer]

MORE VIRGIN SPENCERRRRR

from the start | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's a nervous mess in your bed, but you like it.

wc: 1.7k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: puppy bf!spencer, virgin!spencer, early seasons!spencer, hookup, friends with benefits(?), dominant fem!reader, gratuitous use of petnames (baby, darling, etc. but it wouldn't be a minnie special without petnames), praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex

a/n: a weird dream of mine turned into a spencer self-insert (jk) so I wrote 1.7k words just to fuel my delusion. this is also a little birthday gift from me to all of you! i've hit 1000 followers (!!!!) on this little spencer blog of mine and i am so so grateful so the only thing i can do is write spencer smut to celebrate! also this lovely anon asked for virgin spencer and I literally cannot refuse (also crossposted to ao3)

You aren’t complaining, ending up in bed with Spencer Reid again. 

You’d met at a bar, the usually shy genius (according to his friends) coming out of his shell to talk to you, and it had ended in a couple of drinks and you making out with him against the wall in the back of the bar. 

You’d brought him home, fully expecting to fuck him. You’d gotten him into your bed when he’d confessed he’d never done anything like this before, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him you could tell. Instead, you’d given him a blowjob before he fell asleep in your bed after a long week on a case. The next morning he’d bashfully woken up to breakfast, and a promise that you’d like to see him again.

“It’ll be less intimidating like this,” you pet his cheek softly, before you turn over onto your hands and knees. You notice that Spencer doesn’t move, so you turn your head to look at him. 

Spencer frowns. “I thought– I wanted to see your face.”

“You’re sweet, darling,” you chuckle. “Come on. I promise this will be easier on you for your first time. You know what to do?” 

Spencer hums, his eyes shyly looking to your rear now. You’re on display for him, thick thighs framing the wetness of your pussy. You know he can’t take his eyes off you, his inexperience obvious and extremely arousing.

Spencer had been a bumbling mess as you’d kissed him, as you’d undressed each other, his hands trembling through it. “You know you can touch me, right?” You tease, and Spencer whines rather petulantly. “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Spencer’s large hands are on you, gentle on your skin. His hands pet you rather sweetly, over your hips and thighs, before he feels the softness of your ass under his palms. You hear his shallow breathing, and feel his thumbs spread you open. His breath hitches. 

You don’t say anything, patient as you let him explore your body. He touches you with an avid curiosity, like he wants to find out about everything that makes you tick, like he wants to commit the lines and curves of your body to memory. 

His movements slow like syrup, his touch moves to your cunt, sticky with your slick. His fingers slide over your pussy; along your folds, over your leaking hole. “I’m going to…” Spencer trails off, as he presses his index finger gently to your entrance. 

You moan as your head drops between your shoulders, with Spencer sliding a curious finger inside of you. He feels around, and it feels more like a medical exam than foreplay, but Spencer’s lack of experience still turns you on extremely. Spencer’s voice is strained. “You feel so warm. You’re so tight.”

“Yeah, baby, I’m not sure if you’re goin​​g to be able to fit,” you tease playfully, smiling as you look back at him. “You’re going to have to make it fit, won’t you?”

Spencer’s eyes are wide, and he swallows nervously. “Yes– Yes, ma’am.”

“Ugh, you’re so cute– Oh!” You gasp as Spencer’s finger presses into you insistently, nudging against your spongy walls, against the spot that makes you lose your mind. “Mm, right there, fuck–”

Being eager to please, Spencer does exactly that – he keeps fingering you, slow and steady, and waits for your approval. You’re basically melting as he fucks you on his fingers, and you only remember you have a bigger plan until he whimpers. “Hmm, baby?”

“I want to- I wanna taste you,” Spencer says, and you moan as his thumb nudges at your clit.

“You- You sure you can last long enough for foreplay?” You jab, but you shudder in a moan as Spencer rubs at your swollen clit with more intention, pleased with the way he takes you apart.  

Spencer scoffs. “I think I should ask you the same.”

“Eat me out, Spencer,” you demand. Spencer just gets his head between your thighs. 

You feel his mouth on your cunt, kissing you sweetly, moaning as he tastes you. His lips are soft and plush on your skin, his lower lip massaging at your clit as he eats you out. His tongue slides over your folds, wet noises coming from his mouth as he takes his time tasting you. 

“You’re stupidly good at this,” you moan, your face buried in his pillows as you’re barely able to keep yourself propped up. The pleasure Spencer gives you courses through your veins, electric from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You think you hear Spencer mumble a thank you, and the vibrations only make you moan even louder. 

You want to come right now, but you know it’ll be so much sweeter to orgasm when Spencer’s buried inside of you. You don’t know if he’ll be able to handle it, the hypersensitive, easily overwhelmed genius in your bed simply might lose his mind fucking you.

“Spencer, baby,” you coo. “Wanna- Need you to fuck me now, darling.”

A high whine leaves Spencer’s throat, and he’s quick to pull away from you, as fast as he’d put his mouth on you earlier. “Please! Please, I need to–”

You giggle, beckoning him to come closer to you. He leans over your frame until his face is close to yours, and you kiss him sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips, but Spencer is giddy as he kisses you back. He tries to trail after you as you pull away, and the sight is both adorable and extremely arousing. 

“You gonna fuck me good, baby?” You smile, feeling the hardness of his length pressed against your ass. 

“Yes– Yes, ma’am,” Spencer stammers, swallowing his anxieties. “Can- Can I?” 

“Please, baby,” you groan, your hand reaching behind you to grab Spencer’s cock. He whimpers as you tug as it roughly, your movements haphazard due to the angle, but you’re lining him up with your hole. “You know what to do.”

It doesn’t take much effort for Spencer to press his cock into you. There’s uncertainty in his movements, but it feels like heaven as your cunt practically swallows him in. He fills you up so perfectly, his thickness rubbing against your walls in just the right way until he’s buried to the hilt, his bony hips pressed against the fat of your ass. “Oh! That feels good, baby.”

You clench around him, relishing the feeling, and then you hear a pathetic little whine from Spencer. “Hurts,” he says, in a weak, wet voice, and you want to both coo at him and fuck his brains out. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you soothe. “I’ll make it feel better, yeah?” 

“Please,” Spencer whimpers. “Need you.”

You lift yourself off of Spencer for a moment, pulling yourself off his cock before sinking back down on him. Spencer is big, not even knowing what he’s been gifted with when you had seen him for the first time. He fits so well inside of you, feeling so perfect as you fuck yourself on him. 

You would ask how he’s doing, but whimpers and moans liberally fall from his lips, and he’s holding onto your hips with a death grip, like he’ll lose all sense of himself if he isn’t holding onto you. His nails dig into your flesh, a delicious bite of pain through the pleasure of it all. 

“Pretty boy,” you groan. “You fill me up so good, holy fuck, oh my God–”

Spencer moans so loud your ears ring. “Feels good, so good, please–” 

“Fuck me, baby,” you gasp, your hips slowing on him. He chases after you like he can’t control himself, as he starts to thrust into you. “Yeah, just like that, baby. Fuck.”

Spencer whines again, chasing his own pleasure as he fucks into you. His hips slap against your ass hurriedly, eagerly, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. “Fuck, oh, God–”

“You’re so deep inside of me, baby,” you groan, barely able to keep your voice steady. You reach for his hand, guiding it to splay out against your lower stomach, where his cock bulges with every thrust. He practically sobs. “You feel so good, darling.”

“Think– I’m gonna– Hhrghh– I’m not gonna last long,” Spencer finally gets the thought out, his genius clearly and understandably slashed when he’s buried in warm, wet pussy. You feel kind of proud of that. 

“Cum, baby,” you groan, not unaffected by Spencer’s eager, frantic fucking. “Inside of me.”

He lets out a pathetic little sob, one that turns you to no end, and then you feel Spencer coming inside, his load hot and messy as it paints your walls, filling you up. You clench around him at the feeling, so heady and overwhelming, and Spencer’s little whine at the pressure has you orgasming too. It’s a new kind of high, a perfect storm of pleasure filling every bone in your body. 

Spencer is warm and heavy as he half-falls on top of you, a sweetness to his movements as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His cock twitches inside of you but begins to soften. Your arms and legs feel like jelly, but you manage to coax him to lay down. His arms sling around your waist to hold you, and the position is surprisingly intimate. 

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. You turn around in his grasp, letting Spencer’s cock slip out of you. He whines a little, but smiles when you look up at him. Spencer repeats, sounding more earnest. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, baby,” you say, smiling, and lean forward to kiss him. It’s sweet, no heat behind it as you press your lips to his. Spencer seems to appreciate the affection, his thumb tracing little circles into your hip. “You were really good. Was that good for you too?”

“Couldn’t you tell from how fast and how hard I came?” Spencer laughs, seeming a bit shy. 

You coo, your hand cupping his cheek. “Even if you did, it was extremely endearing.”

“I think you just like corrupting me or something,” Spencer smiles, quirking his eyebrow.

You shrug, a teasing grin on your lips. “Maybe I do.”

[olailamajnoon]

Jason: So you know that religion paper I gave last week?

Bruce: (struggling to remember) ...yes?

Jason: I was asked about the theory of Calvin about predestination and grace.

Bruce: Fun.

Jason: Yeah, well. I had a whiskey headache, and I was hungover.

Bruce: (disapproving) Jason. What did you do.

Jason: I wrote what was essentially a 1000 word essay on the theology of one 'Calvin Hobbes'.

Bruce: *puts head in hands*

Bruce: And you were supposed to be the smart one.

Jason: wait, what? I thought—wasn't that Tim?

Bruce: Tim drank Batarang sanitizer from a coffee mug last week. No, I had pinned my hopes on you.

Jason: So you're saying...I let you down? I disappointed you?

Bruce: Well...

Jason, pumping his fists: Praise be!

[the-one-who-lambs]

OH YEAH IM UNSTUCK FROM THE CREATIVE BLOCK WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

Last day in Poland... gonna go to a creative space+cafe and write until I have to go to the airport YIPPEE

[ao3commentoftheday]

While looking for something else, I found an old ask I answered about "ideal chapter length" in terms of word count.

I've been asked this probably a dozen or more times, and each time I need to take a moment and adjust my thinking to take the asker's point of view into account. Because the thing is? The only time I ever try to factor the word count into how I write a story is when I'm aiming for a true drabble.

For whatever reason, this difference in thinking stuck with me today and I actually considered why that might be. And I think it's because I'm in my 40s and the first 25-30 years of my life, any stories I was reading were printed on paper and bound into physical books.

When I imagine a novel, I still think of a mass market paperback on my bookshelf. An average one would be maybe an inch thick, probably in the neighbourhood of 300 pages. A long one would be maybe as much as two inches thick and 500 or more pages long. A short one was always nice to have because it filled in the gaps in the shelf because 200 page books were so much narrower. Or so it seemed.

When I started posting my fic online, I still thought in terms of pages. I'd type them out in whatever word processing software I was using at the time, and I'd usually get a chapter's worth of ideas into 3 or 4 pages. Turns out that's about 1000 words, which makes sense with the number of 1000 word essays I wrote in high school. I'd been trained to encapsulate an idea into approximately that length.

And that's what it comes down to. The thing that always made that question seem weird to me. A chapter isn't about how many words there are in it, just like a cake isn't about how many cups of flour exist in each slice. A chapter is a an idea that helps make up a bigger idea called a story, and it needs to be however many words that idea needs to be to get it out.

[007reid]

187. spencer reid (18+)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you're dealing with a dumb, whiny boy and you are wondering where your boy genius went.

warnings: 18+, sub!spencer & dom!reader, dumbification, whining, whimpering, overstimulation, handjob, orgasm denial, begging..you know the rest ;)

a/n: this is a result of too much ai spencer tiktok edits....wrote in a rush on my phone late at night but that's how fanfiction are meant to be written. enjoy angels <3 requests are open if anyone want to drop by!

“okay spencer, this is an easy one. can you answer it for me baby?" you pause expectantly, and it takes him a while, but spencer only mewls in response, frustrated. "what states are next to louisiana?”

you see spencer’s eyebrows slowly pent up in thought but then he immediately gives up in lieu of letting out another pathetic moan, bucking up uselessly to your fingers. “answer the question baby," you prod sweetly, kissing your words into his cheek.

“i-hnfgg…” he pants breathlessly, eyes shut tight and when they flutter open, they are round with plead. “please, it hurts so bad, please let me cum i—“

you let go of his cock entirely and he whines, trying to shuffle closer so that you would touch him. in response you move away further, smirk at your lips. “be a good boy for me and i will.”

“i am being a good boy for you!” spencer whines, his eyes blown with need and watering, body writhing pathetically against the sheets. his dick is flushed an angry red and you know he’s only several strokes away from coming undone, being so closely attuned to your boy. “i’m being good i—“ his words hitched in his throat as you gently caress only the tip of his cock, teasing.

“the good boy i remember is super smart,” you slide up to him, pressing a leering kiss on his jaw. “the guy has an iq of 187. can you believe that? how rare is that?”

spencer doesn’t answer, his pleas and whines soft and stuck in his throat as he keeps trying to buck up his hips to get more of your touch, but with no avail. “hm? how rare is it spence?”

“i don’t know!” he cries, tears leaking and wetting his pretty lashes. “i—please it hurts so bad, just please let me cum i’ll do anything, please!”

“answer me and i’ll let you cum baby boy,” you say smoothly, removing your hand from him (which elicited a very impatient groan) to spit on your palm before going back again, moving your hand up and down his shaft deliberately slow. you know it drives him crazy, even crazier than he is right now and you soak in the satisfaction of it. “how many people has your kind of genius spence? hm?" you add encouragingly. "get this one right for me and i’ll let you cum baby.”

“i…uhh….” he's slow, and even slower with your hand working and overstimulating his already-sensitive cock. “one out of every hundred million people. 1000 who ever lived,” he finally decides to peel open his eyes again, searching your face for any hint of approval. as a response you flick up your wrist quickly and he nods his head back, an obscene and needy moan coming out of his mouth.

“and the states surrounding louisiana?”

his head snaps back immediately and stares at you in betrayal, like a kid being scammed out of his cookie, completely flustered and debauched. “you said one question!”

“i changed my mind baby,” you soothe, pressing an apology kiss in the corner of his mouth. “the faster you are the faster you get to cum. do you want to cum honey?”

“yes! yes i wanna cum so bad,” he cries, hands coming up to rest lightly at your waist and you can feel the tremble in them. the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach has been there for at least half an hour now and you’ve just been toying with it, reliving it then bringing the pressure back. now he’s an absolute mess, curly hair sprayed on the pillow and stuck to his forehead, his pretty, delicate face ruined with tear stains, but it just makes him prettier. he’s completely at your mercy, writhing and whimpering and begging you to do something about his looming orgasm and you denying him of it.

“then answer the question baby boy,” you murmur encouragingly in his ear, fingers still teasing him. he’s so sensitive and overstimulated to the point that a single touch can make his entire body jump, so you are careful. too much and he might actually loose it, and you both know this. “you remember it, right spence?” you press, "the question?"

“hnngg,” he whimpers when you start biting on the lobe of his ear, grabbing and squeezing onto the sheets for dear life. “umm…arkansas and… i-i don’t know,” he admits shamefully, then desperately tries to make up for it. “but i got the first one! you said if i get it i could cum. i’ve been such a good boy for you, just this one time, please!” he begs, not in control of what he says anymore and it shows. he’s completely delirious and fucked stupid, and you take pity on him.

“aww, my sweet boy,” you coo sweetly, running your fingers through his messy mop of hair and pulling it away from his face for him. “i’m sorry angel, but if you can’t get it right, you don’t get to cum,” you whisper faux apologetically in his ear. you see when spencer’s eyes widen with horror, and the tears begins to fall freely.

“please,” he begs, his fingers pleadingly reaching out to try to touch you, convince you to change your mind. it’s a foolish and naive attempt, and he knows it too but can’t help taking his chances. he’s desperate for anything. “please, i’ll be so good for you. i’ll be your best boy. i promise. i swear. it hurts so bad y/n please, i cant take it—“

“fine,” you give in, only because you know for a fact that he can't last any longer. really, you're surprised he's managed to make it this long so far; you had already planned his punishment in your mind. your boy deserves his reward.

you speed up your movements and the sounds coming out of his mouth becomes wanton, sobs becomes louder and his whines a pitch higher and he’s strung high like a violin string, ready to snap. “cum for me, pretty boy.”

at your command his body gives out obediently, thick strings of cum spitting out of his cock, painting your hand and his hips, coating at his thighs. he twitches and his thighs tremble weakly as small blurts of cum starts to collect at the tip of his cock and you kiss him during all of it as he cries against your lips. he pants hard, and when you accidentally swipe a finger over him, he whines painfully and inches out the way, sore. when it’s over, he collapses into you, spent.

“thank you,” he says, sounding genuinely grateful, his voice muffled and his face buried in your shoulder. you laugh, fingers smoothing out the mess of his hair, pulling his head back and pressing kisses all over his face. spencer needs the aftercare, especially after being edged on for so long, needs the love and the assurance and the cuddles afterwards. "i love you."

"and i you," you say, smiling when he whines predictably, unsatisfied.

"you gotta say the whole thing," he says, looking mildly upset, lips jutting out and giving you the fattest, most foul and adorable pout, eyes big and searching.

"'m sorry," you weave your fingers with his, and he presses a kiss against your knuckles. "i love you."

[wileycap]

Two Siblings In A Room Talking About How Much Their Dad Sucks

a.k.a a non-comics compliant ficlet about Zuko and an in-therapy Azula talking about their dad. This ended up being weird angsty sibling fluff instead of a crackfic about how stupid Ozai is. G. ~1000 words.

“Did you know that Father could have won the war?”

Azula cracked an eye open, lazily. Sunlight streamed in through the narrow windows. It had caught Zuko’s good eye – Zuko was turned so that she couldn’t see his scar and he looked…

“Oh, Zuko, it’s so strange how your mind works,” she said, cutting off her own train of thought. “What prompted this?”

“I was reorganizing the Navy, and I had to read up on our old battle plans,” Zuko replied, turning to face her. “Did you know that we had a plan to invade Ba Sing Se?”

“I did,” Azula said, inspecting her nails. "More than one, in fact."

“A good plan? A plan that would have worked? A plan that wasn't a giant drill?”

Azula mm-hm’ed, trying to speed Zuko along.

“As soon as Omashu fell, we had our supply lines. Farms, water, land, even quarries. Uncle Iroh would have taken Ba Sing Se if cousin Lu Ten hadn’t died, you know that. And if he could have done it with just what we had at the time, Father could have done it any time he wanted.”

Zuko was picking up steam. Azula was mildly entertained.

“I never even thought about how stupid the drill was. A huge offensive… relying on an untested piece of technology that cost more than half our fleet. If I did that, my advisors would skin me alive!”

“If that happens, can I book tickets in advance?” Azula asked, smirking in the face of Zuko’s fuming.

“It’s not a joke!” Zuko snapped, getting up in one violent motion. He paced around the small sitting area. “I spent sixteen years terrified of him, hating him, wanting him to love and accept me, and…”

Zuko let himself drop down on the rug, burying his face in his hands.

Azula observed, uncaring.

They sat in silence for a while.

“It was better when he was this… invincible monster,” Zuko finally said, gesturing vaguely with his arms.

“Yes, I imagine it was. Better than getting half your face burned off by an idiot who doesn’t even know how to read,” Azula shrugged.

Zuko’s incredulous look was an entirely predictable reaction. “I’m pretty sure he knows how to read.”

“I’m not.”

“Azula, come on. Father reads.”

“Are you sure? Can you remember one time he read something, or wrote something, instead of having it read to him or dictating?” Azula paused to let Zuko think. By the blank look on her brother’s face, Azula decided that no answer was forthcoming. “See? Father doesn’t know how to read.”

Zuko gaped. Azula raised an eyebrow, radiating smug superiority.

“Wait,” Zuko said, pointing a finger. “At his coronation, he read the Greeting to Agni!”

“Memorized it,” Azula waved it off. “And he made a mistake. He said Agni’s radiance instead of Agni’s light.”

“Why would he replace an easier word with a harder one?” Zuko asked. There was just the slightest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t it make more sense the other way around?”

“Easy. Bigger words are better, if you’re an idiot who can’t read and doesn’t want all the nobles and the ministers and the sages to know about it.”

Zuko snorted, toppling over to lay on his back. “I thought he didn’t read my letters because I was a failure, but now it turns out he just couldn’t.”

“No, he had those read out for the court to laugh at,” Azula said, her face serious. “’I remain your dutiful son’ always got big laugh.”

“I bet it did.”

They sat in silence for a while. The beam of sunlight dragged across the floor.

“Do you ever think about him?” Zuko said, staring at the ceiling.

“No,” Azula said, staring at Zuko because she wasn’t a coward.

“Never?”

“No,” Azula said, rolling her eyes. “I already had one mental breakdown. I’m not going to have another one just so you can have company on your little pity-me-my-dad’s-terrible trip.”

Zuko didn’t say anything. He just turned his head so that his scarred eye was looking at Azula.

Azula sighed.

“Look, do you want to know what’s going on in dear old Daddy’s head right now?” At Zuko’s nod-shrug, she continued. “He’s written the both of us off as losses. Oh, if I break out of here and go release him, he’ll take me back – just like he took you back after Ba Sing Se – but until then, I’m crazy and you’re a traitor.

“That leaves him in his cell, and without his bending. By now, he’s probably convinced himself that either his bending will return on its own and he’ll conquer the world again, or his loyalists, his good friends from court, will depose you and probably capture the Avatar to boot. Then they’ll force the Avatar to give him back his Firebending, and Father will reign supreme forever.

“Neither of the two options is going to happen. Even if his Firebending comes back naturally, the Avatar will just defeat him again – hopefully before he makes your eyes match. And his loyalists? He probably doesn’t have any. And if he does, they’re as incompetent as he is. You’re right, Father’s an idiot. He alienated half his court with his insane schemes and promoting crackpots like Qin. The other half he terrified or bribed into submission. I wouldn’t be surprised if even his actual supporters, the few that there are, are happier with you in power.”

Zuko was looking at her with undisguised interest. “So, what’s your point?”

“My point, little Zuzu, is that there’s no need to worry about him anymore,” Azula said, laying down on her bed. “It’s over. He’s not coming back, idiot or not.”

“Huh,” Zuko said. “That’s like a proverb, except it makes sense.”

Azula huffed, caught by surprise. “Dum-dum.”

“… what if I captured Aang and took him to Father? Do you think he’d let me be the prince again?”

“Try it,” Azula shrugged. “But I definitely want tickets.”