#I've thought about this after not thinking for long time

[nonotnolan]

No Regrets

My roommate's body keeps looking at me like I'm supposed to be making the first move. It was weird enough when my roommate and his girlfriend swapped bodies for the weekend, but the unspoken tension was starting to become unbearable. "Seriously, Tiffany, you're starting to creep me out. Don't you and Daniel have plans for tonight?"

She just smiled at me. "No plans. I'm still deciding how I want to spend my evening. Daniel, though... he's taking my body out clubbing tonight. He wants to see how many free drinks he can score, and I think he's also planning to get laid." Gross. I knew better than to say anything out loud, but my face must have given me away. "Don't be such a prude, Jeff. You know we have an open relationship."

I tugged at my collar. "I know, Tiff, I'm sorry. I just... body swaps that cross the gender line still make me uncomfortable. It feels wrong, somehow. And, I mean, technically they are illegal."

"Oh please, get over yourself," she said, tossing herself onto his bed. "Swaps over 12 hours are also illegal, but that didn't stop you from hiring someone to take your Calc exam two weeks ago. You need to learn how to relax. Not everything you were told on Sundays is true, you know. Some things aren't actually all that bad. You're only clutching your pearls because society told you that swapping genders was bad. What harm is there, as long as both people consent?"

I wanted to argue, but I knew Tiffany was absolutely correct. There wasn't anything wrong with the two of them swapping bodies outside of society telling us that men and women could only swap with other men and other women. Which... given the way that their open relationship also defied societal expectations, I suppose it wasn't too much of a surprise that the two of them thought so little about swapping like this. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I... I'm trying, really. You've heard how conservative my childhood was. It's a lot to unlearn."

"Well, maybe it's time to start unlearning," she said, beckoning me closer. "You want to know the real reason I'm still here? It's because of you, stud. I'm here to see you." Did Tiffany just call me a stud? She had to be mocking me, but I could feel myself blushing all the same.

Tiffany started to unbutton my shirt, brushing her fingers along my exposed chest as she did so. I could feel myself growing erect. Were we... were we really doing this? They were in an open relationship, after all, it wasn't like he was helping Tiffany cheat on his roommate. With his roommate? God, Swappers made things confusing.

"I've seen the way you look at Daniel," she said, rubbing a hand across the stubble on my chin. "I love the man, but he's too straight and too clueless to pick up on those stares. And honestly, I can't help but think that you're too sheltered to realize you're even doing it half the time."

"I... thought I was hiding it better," I said, trying to steady my emotions. Her fingers started to tease my nipples, leaving me squirming with raw pleasure. "I still don't know if I'm bisexual, or gay, or just... Mormon. But I didn't think it mattered. He's already in a relationship with you. What I want isn't important."

"He's in an open relationship," she said, staring at me like I was a hunk of meat to be devoured. "He's also not here right now. I'm in control of this body right now, and I want to fuck you senseless. If that's what you want too, well..." Tiffany slipped her hand inside my waistband, giving my manhood a firm squeeze that had me gasping for breath. "Tonight's a perfect night to let loose. No regrets."

I couldn't hold back anymore. I leaned in for a quick kiss, which Tiffany returned with tongue. The two of us stripped down as fast as we could, though I made certain not to let her pull me onto the bed with her. "Not on Daniel's bed," I said, dragging her over to my part of the bedroom. "His sheets reek of frat boy sweat, and I doubt he has any lube."

"I, uhh... you're alright with being on top, right?" I asked, as I handed her the bottle of lube from my nightstand. It occurred to me that we hadn't actually talked through any plans, set boundaries, or anything like that. "The way you phrased it, I'm assuming that's what you meant, I just--"

"Stop. Thinking." Seeing Daniel's face looming over me, with a look of pure lust on his face, it was everything I never knew I needed. I started rolling over onto my knees before she yelled at me. "Not like that, stay on your back. I want to see your face as I fuck you senseless."

Tiffany spent the entire time telling me exactly what to do, and it was everything I could have ever wanted. She got me lubed, eased me onto her massive manhood, and railed me like there was no tomorrow. My chest was coated in strands of my own cum, while Daniel's cum slowly leaked out of my ass. I'd never had a no-hands orgasm before, but holy hell I could not believe how amazing that felt.

"I can't believe we just did that," I said, trying to catch my breath. She responded by scooping up some of the jizz off of my torso and putting it into her mouth. She was making an entire production out of licking it off of her finger, and I could feel myself getting hard again. "So, uhh... you... you'll be in Daniel's body for the entire evening?"

"If that's your way of asking me if I'd like to fuck you again? The answer is yes," she said, giving me a wink. "Even better, we might be able to make this a weekly thing," she added, standing up to grab some towels. "I don't think I'll have to fight too hard to convince Daniel to swap. What sort of straight man doesn't enjoy having boobs?"

God, I was falling for her so hard. What had I gotten myself into? Life was going to be a long, awkward hell once my roommate was back in his own body. And yet... I had to admit, I had no regrets.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

A One Night Stand w/ Hawks | One Shot

His kisses are so soft, so tender - you almost forget that this is a booty call.

A one night stand.

A one fuck fling.

But the way he's fucking you in missionary doesn't feel like a one night stand...it feels like he's making love to you.

He tucks his face into the side of your neck as he slowly rolls his hips, his cock stretching you out in a sweet way that brings tears of pleasure to your eyes. With each rut into you, his wings puff up behind him in a way that's more endearing than sexy. You can tell by his quirk's reaction that he's really enjoying it.

"God you feel good, birdie." Keigo sighs, planting a wet kiss to your jaw as his hips flex again. Your pussy flutters around him, pulling him in deeper of its own accord. "Fuuuuuck." He moans out and the sound is practically musical.

"Ah! Kei...you feel so good." You groan, enjoying the comfortable pace he's set. Your hips rise easily to meet him on his next thrust and he curses again under his breath.

"What was that?" You tease, unable to help yourself. He peaks up at you, his face scarlet. It's cute the way he blushes as he fucks you.

"I've just wanted to fuck you for so long - ever since I saw you at that press conference. This feels like a damn dream or something." He mutters softly. You reach up to softly stroke his wings. The feathers quiver beneath your gentle touch. You hadn't realized that the feeling had been mutual for so long. Ever since you'd interviewed him at the winter Hero Billboard press night, you hadn't stopped thinking about him. Those crimson wings and those deep golden eyes and the slim dip of his hips. After that night, it seemed like the two of you kept falling into the same orbit. Had that not been a coincidence? You had kept ending up together - at press events, galas, on air. It had all culminated tonight. After your press coverage of a resolved incident, he had asked you for a drink.

"Baby...keep touching my wings?"

Baby.

You ignore the pet name and stuff your fingers more fully into his feathers. They quiver and shake around your hand, but you continue to stroke and caress and give them love all the same. Keigo makes a soft keening noise in the back of his throat in response.

"You like that?"

"Fuck, birdie...I love it." He fucks you even more slowly, making each motion of his cock inside you feel intentional, thoughtful.

"Next time I'll take you out to dinner first." He says, lifting his body so he can hover over you. He presses a kiss to your cheek, your nose, your mouth. Your lips chase his as he pulls away, looking down at you through heavy golden eyes. It's funny how he's just as chatty in bed as he is in press interviews. "There's a great Italian spot by my place. We can make a night of it. Plus...the window behind my bed has a view you'll just love to look out when I take you from behind."

[asumofwords]

Watercress - Chapter 3

Warnings: She/her pronouns. Slow burn, mentions of injury, threats, sickness. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Aemond x Healer

Summary: Raised in the Riverlands, near the shadow of Harrenhal, her life was one of endless toil and quiet resilience. Every day was the same—scraping together food, tending to the ill, and surviving the harsh realities of a land marked by struggle. But when war came, it brought horrors beyond anything she could have imagined. The skies blazed with fury, the waters of the Gods Eye churned with the echoes of battle, and then—just as suddenly as it began—the world grew eerily quiet. She believed the worst was over. That was, until a fateful discovery in the woods shattered her fragile peace and set her on a path she never could have foreseen.

Notes: Hello angels! I hope you enjoyed chapter 2 and now enjoy this. I've been writing these on my commutes to work which has been super fun. I'm going to try and get a chapter out every week if i can! Enjoy <3

For days, Aemond floated in and out of consciousness. Each time his eye flickered open, only to roll shut again, the healer took it as a sign that he would survive. She had seen men fade into death before. How their bodies went still, how their breathing grew shallow and thin until it simply stopped.

But Aemond was not one of those men. He lingered, clung to life like a beast caught in a trap, refusing to die despite the ruin of his body.

At first, he barely stirred. She forced water between his cracked lips, tipping it carefully so he would not choke. She fed him broth, the rich scent of marrow and herbs filling the cottage as she coaxed him to swallow. At one point, she had feared he would slip into a sleep he would never wake from, lost to his wounds and the fever that burned at his skin. But as the days passed, his fingers twitched. His lashes fluttered.

And then finally his eye opened.

Outside, the air had turned sharp and biting, winter creeping closer with every shortened day. The fire in her hearth struggled against the chill that bled up from the earth, and the furs wrapped around her shoulders did little to keep it out.

Soon, the snow would come.

And snow meant death for those who could not prepare for it.

Food was already scarce. Crops had withered in the wake of war, and what little remained was taken by the desperate or the cruel. She had coin, but even coin could not conjure wheat from barren fields or meat from hollowed-out forests. She often thought of selling the long sword she had taken from him, knowing it would fetch more than enough to keep her through the winter. For many winters to come. But carrying a sword like that, his sword, was as dangerous as wielding a traitor’s banner.

Lords and commoners alike who had supported the Green cause had been rounded up and slaughtered. If she was caught with the weapon of a kinslayer, she would be met with the same fate.

And yet… she had kept him alive.

She did not know why. She only knew that she had to.

Would he repay her kindness with a blade to her throat once he could stand again?

Would he lead men to her door, reveal that a woman in the woods had nursed the enemy back to health?

Would he seek vengeance?

She did not want to think about it.

Unease seemed to follow her however, ever since she found the young Prince. It was if the air itself had shifted when Rhaenyra had been slain.

When the war had ended.

It could be, she reasoned with herself, the unsettling feeling after a war. The sudden silence and stillness that clung to people after such uproar. It could also be that the dragons that once flew in great numbers above had greatly dwindled after the war, their shadows and roars missing from the sky. The thought left something heavy in her chest.

It did not bode well when the symbols of gods died.

A low groan pulled her from her thoughts.

She did not rush to his side. She had learned in the first few days that his body remembered the war even if his mind did not. He twitched in his sleep, breath hitching, murmuring half-formed words to ghosts that did not answer. But she knew this sound, this was different.

He was waking.

She dampened a cloth and pressed it to his forehead, watching as his eye fluttered open, violet, sharp despite the dazed, fevered haze clinging to him.

For a moment, he simply stared at her.

Then, suddenly, he tried to sit up.

A harsh cry of pain tore from his lips, and he collapsed back against the bed, his breath ragged, chest jerking in uneven gasps. His fingers twisted into the furs, knuckles white with strain, but his body refused to obey him. He clenched his jaw, breathing heavily through his nose, and tried again. This time, his injured leg jerked upward, and the pain hit him like a tidal wave.

A snarl ripped from his throat, his fingers curling into claws against the mattress, all those fine furs she had bought having their hairs town from their pelts. His eye was squeezed shut, his body taut with the unbearable humiliation of weakness and pain.

She looked down upon him, cloth still held aloft and hoped that this wouldn’t inspire a desperate instinct to attack her. She was certain he would likely not react well, waking up to the unfamiliar scent of her hut, his body aching, and his mind clouded.

A Prince waking in a cottage in the woods and not the chambers of the palace was certain to turn someone of his standings head. Especially since his last memory would have been the war at its peak.

If she woke up one day in a room in the Red Keep, injured and alone, she was sure she would be just as alarmed, if not more so. 

Aemond's lips were chapped, face having grown pale, and breathed a ragged breath, his violet eye flicking around the room as rapidly as his weakness would permit, searching for immediate signs of danger.

When he finally stilled, his breathing shallow but controlled, she let her gaze drift lower. His movement had shifted the furs on the bed so she now had a clear view of the wrappings on his chest. She looked over them searching for any sign of split stitches and found them.

Blood had begun to seep from beneath the rags she had replaced from the fish skin, and without even looking up she turned around to gather her supplies.

Behind her, his voice was hoarse, raw with pain and something darker.

"Where am I?"

She did not answer immediately. She was already assessing the damage, her fingers steady as they lifted the bloodied wrappings from his skin.

"Riverlands." She said flatly.

The silence stretched.

"Where?" His tone sharpened, demanding now.

She did not look at him. "Near Harrenhal."

The shift was immediate.

His breath hitched, his fingers twitched, but the worst of it was in his eye. The moment the word left her lips, his expression twisted into something dangerous. Hatred, rage, loathing, all bleeding into one as his nostrils flared, as the muscle in his jaw clenched tight enough to shatter his own teeth.

She braced herself, already anticipating the bite of his fury.

"Are you a Maester?" The question was sharp, calculated. Even now, flat on his back, broken, helpless, he was still testing her.

She did not fear the question, nor the weight of his stare. Instead, she did something unexpected, she laughed. A quiet, breathy sound that barely reached the space between them.

It was not amusement, not quite. But there was something in it; a warning, perhaps.

He hated it.

"As a follower of the Seven, you should know women cannot swear such an oath."

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her gaze to meet his.

The hatred was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was joined by something else. Something assessing.

He was measuring her.

Calculating.

She could almost see the thoughts turning behind his eye, the realisation sinking in. He was in a stranger’s home, far from his kin, with wounds he could not fight past, and a body that refused to obey him.

And worst of all; he was at her mercy.

The firelight flickered, casting long shadows across his face, making the bruises look darker, the scar across his cheekbone deeper, and him gaunter. He looked like something feral, something barely restrained by the thin thread of his own will.

She wondered, briefly, if she had saved a dying man or a dying beast.

The answer did not matter.

She would soon find out.

“Who tends to me?” His voice was distrustful, thick with uncertainty. Sharp.

Commanding.

She gave him her name and only her name.

“Who is your sworn lord?” Voice thick with impatience.

She smirked as she lifted the bandages from his chest, watching his fingers twitch, wary as if he might lurch forward and grab her.

She hummed, unfazed. “Sworn lord? I’ve sworn no oaths.”

His eye burned into her, “Who holds Harrenhal?”

She had to hold back a laugh.

Men often made demands when they were injured. Often promised vengeance for the shame of their own vulnerability. When she had first taken her mother’s place, it had made her cautious, fearful. But time had taught her something else. Empty words and empty threats were more deserving of mirth than worry.

But this man… this man was different. His reputation alone would have been enough to put her on edge. And yet, more than that, it was the feel of him. The way the air thickened around him, charged with something unspoken.

A warning.

Even still, she answered as she would any other.

“The ghosts that haunt its walls.”

Her fingers pinched his torn skin together, assessing what to do next.

He did not whimper this time.

Aemond gave her a scathing look, the scar over his eye crinkling. “The war...Has it been won?”

She hummed in amusement.

His face dissolved into fury.

He was a prince, and had clearly never spoken to in such a way, least of all by someone lowborn like herseld. But within these four walls, titles held no power.

All men bled.

All men died.

Birth and rank meant naught to the gods.

“There is no winning in a war.”

"Who?" His voice, a blade’s edge, barely restrained.

She held his gaze, unflinching, and it irked him. “The son of the dead Queen. Her blood will rule. The Gods do not favour kinslayers and usurpers.”

Violence flared in his eye, “It is treason to speak her name with victory.”

Aemond tried once again to sit up too quickly, succeeding and she sighed as she watched two new stitches burst, blood pooling to the surface. The Prince tried valiantly to ignore the pain, teeth gritted as his body betrayed him, but she could see that it made his consciousness swim.

He swayed and fell back onto on elbow, wheezing at the agonised angle, one arm coming to clutch his broken ribs. But even in the immense pain he seemed to be suffering, his stubbornness won out, and even she had to admit that he had faired better than men who had suffered less.

"You lie."

If he weren’t so pathetic in that moment, she might have humoured him like a petulant child. She didn’t dignify it with a response. Just inhaled deeply, eyes sweeping the rest of his injuries. She lingered on his leg.

Horror flickered in his violet eye.

He knew.

The loss of an eye had been something to overcome. A wound to be turned into a weapon. A show of his strength. Something to reveal to strike fear amongst his enemies.

But this…

A leg was different. A leg made a warrior. And without it, without the strength to stand, to fight, what was he?

"Answer me." His voice wavered this time.

She wished he would pass out so she could work in silence.

"The false king was slain by his own men," She said coolly, "All your kin are dead."

Silence.

His eye searched hers, desperate for deception, for any trace of a lie.

There was none.

Something in his face shifted. Darkened.

Gone.

All of them.

His mother. His brothers. His grandfather Otto.

Perhaps Criston Cole, too. The man who had been a father in all but name and blood.

But most of all;

Helaena.

Had she been slain with the rest?

His sister.

His gentle sister.

A harsh, bitter breath left him. His lips curled into something between a sneer and a grimace. Aemond was not a man who wept. His grief hardened into fury.

And she had been prepared for it.

"Then I should have died."

She lifted a brow, lazy, “Aye. If the Gods had willed it.”

The sneer returned, but his strength waned, and he collapsed back onto the bed, glaring at her.

"You willed it."

"I do as the Gods command me."

She reached for him and he recoiled.

"I am not some wounded beast for you to keep." Aemond snarled, pink blooming across his cheeks where they had once been colourless.

Amused she replied, "No. You snarl and snap like one. But a true beast still has its claws."

He swatted at her as she reached for his side, shifting away. But she was persistent, stronger than he expected, and he sank, reluctant, into compliance.

At a loss.

At a loss of who he was.

He had lost everything. The war. His kin. His title.

His purpose.

And for the first time, he felt it. The emptiness. The hollow absence where Vhagar had been.

The ache of the bond was silent. And he just knew to his bones she was gone.

The one being who understood him.

Gone.

And now, after all he had done, after Lucerys, after Sharp Point, after every drop of blood spilled in his name, his half-sister’s son sat the throne.

And when they found him?

It would be public. Very public. A trial. A spectacle.

A kinslayer’s fate.

"How long have I been here?" His voice was quieter now, loss leaking in at the edges.

She knew what he was thinking.

Could he still fight? Could he still win?

Would there be any left who would fight for him?

Unlikely.

She met his eye. “Several days. You’ve been asleep for most.”

His teeth clenched. “Days…”

Frustration sparked in his voice, and she readied herself for cruelty.

"Why did you save me?" He sneered, and she ignored his question, "I suppose you expect me to be grateful. What do you want, coin? Gold? A jewel to buy your way out of this hovel?"

There it was.

She ignored him again. Dipped a rag into boiling water, wrung it out, and reached for his wound. She met his eye briefly before pressing the cloth to his skin.

His stomach clenched beneath her hands.

"You lie." He hissed again.

"I don’t have time for lies."

"Say it again."

She flicked her eyes up to his, unimpressed, "Have you gone deaf, m’lord?" She mocked his now lack of title.

His voice was low, dangerous, “You will say it again.”

Coolly, she obliged, "You have lost. Your family is dead. The war is over. The Blacks sit the throne. And you… you are alone."

His jaw tightened as he inhaled sharply.

"And I am expected to take the word of some common healer in some nameless hut?" His eye flicked around the cottage in distaste, “Who’s to say my brother hasn’t won and you are a sympathiser to the whore Queen?”

Now she smiled, and despite the hatred he felt for her, he noted that it was a pretty smile.

"My word means nothing, Aemond."

His eye narrowed at the sound of his name on her tongue.

But she continued, for the first time speaking longer than he had expected, "I could tell you many things. Promise you more. But it wouldn’t change my station or yours."

She leaned in, voice calm.

"And if I were the sympathiser you accuse me of being," Her voice dipped almost to a whisper, almost sultrily, "I would have slit your throat where you lay."

Aemond laughed, humourless, "You think I will stay here? That I will rot in this hut?"

Her eyes flicked to his leg, then to the door, "You’re free to leave, kinslayer."

His breath caught.

He went utterly still.

"Say that again."

She raised her brows, "How many times are you going to ask me to repeat myself? I'm not a parrot from High Garden, m'lord. You don’t like the truth I speak?"

With her hands, she pinched his wound together and readied her needle, not asking if he was ready. She could feel his heated glare atop her skull.

The healer could admit that she had stitched the first stitch more roughly than she could have, knowing it would have pained him. She felt his stomach clench beneath her as she worked, the heat from his skin almost scolding her hands like the water in the basin.

Lips curling, seething, he hissed lowly in threat, "Watch your tongue, woman."

A large hand snapped out and wrapped around the wrist holding the needle and squeezed painfully.

We have finally reached the threats, she mused to herself dryly and hummed an amused laugh.

Aemond moved to sit up again and she managed to move a well placed, albeit cruel, hand against one of his broken ribs and pressed, which made the prince gasp in pain and stiffen against the bed stilling.

"If you’re going to undo my work," She said smoothly, "I should’ve left you to die as your men did."

She paused for a moment.

She knew his distrust of her would prove to be an issue with him now being conscious. He would fight her at every turn and spit vitriol her way. She no doubted that he would test her patience and she would consider dosing his food with a sleeping draught. Perhaps even some milk of the poppy.

She would have offered it to him sooner if he had not been so aggressive in his questioning. 

"You knew who I was."

Her lips twitched into a smile.

His eye narrowed, "Why?"

Why did she save him?

Why did she tend to him?

What was her motive?

The mystery surrounding her set his hair on end.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. He was not sure he liked it, the way she looked at him. As though he was a question to be answered, a thing to be fixed. Rather than a man to be feared.

“Would you have preferred to die?"

Aemond did not answer.

He should say no.

Should say he still has vengeance to take, a name to reclaim, a war to fight. A throne to win. But the truth sat thickly in his throat.

There was nothing left.

“You want me to trust your word?” Aemond scoffed, the colour in his cheeks fading again.

With a sigh she worked his wound, stitching it back together methodically, "You may recall I never asked for your trust. I couldn’t care for your thoughts of me." Her tone cool and emotionless, "Feel free to die now if you wish, it would save me the trouble and herbs.” She tied shut the final stitch.

There was a brief moment of silence between them, only the sound of the cracking fire.

He was left to stew in his shattered pride and frustration, the knowledge that he would never be the same, and the added humiliation that he now depended upon a woman such as her. 

His voice was a blade at her throat. "I have killed men for less."

A smirk played at her lips. "And yet here I stand," She straightened, looking down at his broken body to prove her point. He could not stand, not without help.

Not without her.

"And there you lay."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[cosmerelists]

PowerPoint Party in the Cosmere

A PowerPoint Party is where you and some friends give PowerPoint presentations, usually on some sort of silly topic. If Cosmere characters were participating in such an activity, here is how I think it would go!

1. Vin

Vin: Hello and welcome. My presentation is entitled, "Inappropriate Places that Elend Has Read Books." Elend: I-Inappropriate?! Vin: Slide 1: "Literally while we were dancing." Elend: Ah...

2. Adolin

Adolin: I am going to rank all of my swords from best to worst! Shallan: [Raises her hand] Let me guess. Maya is #1 and every other sword is tied at #2? Adolin: S-Stop spoiling my presentation!!

3. Vivenna

Vivenna: Hello everyone, and welcome to "Ranking Worldhopper Aliases, from 'Azure' to 'Thaidakar.'" Vivenna: We'll be starting from the best! Vivenna: Slide 1: "Azure: Classy, Home-Planet-Related, and Cool-Sounding." Kelsier: If that's the top, then-- Kelsier: What's wrong with Thaidakar???

4. Shallan

Shallan: My presentation is called "Tall People Are An Oppressive Class." Shallan: Subtitled: "Those Long-Legged Bastards." Kaladin: I BARELY left you behind in the chasms! Shallan: [Making direct eye contact with Kaladin] Slide 1: "Being Left Behind in the Chasms" Kaladin: HEY

5. Khriss

Khriss: My name is Khriss. I have spent a very long time studying investiture all across the Cosmere. Khriss: Therefore I present to you: "Who Would Win in a 1-v-1 Fighting Tournament Where Each Type of Investiture Is Represented By An Individual At The Height Of Their Power" Khriss: Fight #1: Awakening vs. Stormlight: Vasher vs. Kaladin Kaladin: D-Did the tension in the room just ramp way up?? Vasher: Eh.

6. Lopen

Lopen: Friends, welcome to "101 One-Armed Herdazian Jokes That Are Mostly (H)armless!" Lopen: And that one doesn't count, ha ha! Skar (Whispering in tones of faint horror): S-Slide 1 of 102?!

7. Steris

Steris: Greetings, everyone. My name is Steris. I am a disaster specialist, and therefore, I am well qualified to give this presentation. Steris: "Who Should You Cannibalize First In a Disaster-Type Situation: A Thorough Consideration With Examples." Wax: S-Steris??? Steris: [faint smile]

8. Sigizl

Sigzil: Slide #1: "A Deep Dive Into Penal Code 117a, Paragraph 5." Audience: [eyes glazing over] Sigzil: Slide #2: "Just Kidding! We're going to look at the data I collected on Kaladin back when he was a baby Radiant." Audience: [cheering] Sigzil: Yup. I'm pretty good at presentations.

9. Charlie

Charlie: Hey, guys. I'm going to be presenting on something I've given a LOT of thought to in the past couple of years. Charlie: Namely: "The Best And Worst Animals You Could Be Cursed To Live As By An Evil Witch" Charlie: Subtitle: "Especially If You Are Trying to Help Your Pirate Captain Girlfriend Navigate Dangerous Waters." Charlie: Slide 1: "The Worst of the Worst: A Really Delicious-Looking Seagull." Charlie: ... Charlie: Yeah...I genuinely have nightmares about this one, you know.

10. Yumi

Yumi: I will be presenting on "The Stackability of Objects You Might Not Think Are Stackable" Yumi: Slide 1: Babies. Yumi: It is unethical to stack babies, of course, but after experimenting with baby dolls, I have concluded that the chubbier babies are, the more eminently stackable they are. I believe that--if it were ethical, which it is not--I could likely build a Baby Tower that was at least a dozen babies tall. Akane: I am SO engaged.

[racoon-master]

Ok, I've got a rant. (All things aside though, this was an amazing video, dip and pip always deliver <3)

I didn't find out about this video till I saw @dnpstardust post though! I can't believe this didn't get recommended to me the day it was posted on YouTube, I was checking basically every day for all of January. I had a lot going on at the start of the year and for some reason I thought D&P text each other was normally posted on the gaming channel, so that's what I was checking every day. I'm very much still subscribed to AmazingPhil though, I so I couldn't believe I found out about this video through tumblr 3 days after it was posted! YouTube was recommending me D&P compilation videos, but not this?! Come on!!

Has anyone else noticed a trend of YouTube not recommending Phil's videos? Cause this isn't the first time I've noticed. I didn't joint the phandom till 2023 so there is still some content I haven't seen yet. I've been watching a combination of old and new videos from the gaming channel and for both of them individually. I subscribed to both Dan and Phil's channels at the same time, and yet Dan's videos get recommended to me way more often. Which is bizarre to me, especially considering their different upload schedules (i.e. Phil having more consistent uploads). More then once I have found myself intentionally seeking out Phil's content, but Dan's videos are constantly in my recommended section. Why would it recommend a video from Dan from like 10 years ago when Phil uploaded one a couple months ago?

I know it's got to do with the algorithm and all that (which can be unpredictable at best), but from what I know Phil has done a bit more to keep on top of that with his consistency/lack of hiatus (no shade to Dan what so ever). I know there is a difference in subscribers between the two of them (which I think is silly, but that's a whole other topic lol), and I wonder if this has anything to do with it.

Even though I subscribed to both their channels at the same time, YouTube tends to only recommend Phil's videos if Dan is in them. What's up with that? :(

This happened (to a lesser extent because I knew to check both channels) when "So what now Dan and Phil??" was posted on AmazingPhil. Every time a new gaming video gets posted it's at the top of my recommended, but I have to seek out Phil's videos (context, I have notifications on for both AmazingPhil and D&P Games, but I don't have the YouTube app).

Has anyone else noticed this trend? I haven't been a part of the phandom for as long as some of y'all so I'm curious to see what you guys think.

Just here to remind every one of this btw!

[kenzan-brainrot-mp4]

talk more about the white whale/whale symbolism in general whatever thoughts you have on the whale stuff i want to hear it 👂

GRAHHHHH YEAH (This one got. Long (again lol) So be prepared (series-wide spoilers but I feel like that's a given atp))

First of all I just wanna say that I love how rgg drags the player along around the final chapter title. With how upfront the other chapter titles are in what they're referring to, you might end up wondering why they chose White Whale for the final chapter title once you see the title card (or at least I did). Of course, this could just be referring to the treasure that everyone's been looking for, but with how nonchalantly they react to the fact that the treasure isn't actually there, it doesn't seem to completely fit the bill.

But then you beat the game (and by this I mean beat the final boss) and lo and behold, there's an Actual white whale, and so you think "Oh! Duh, the chapter's called White Whale because there's a literal white whale and it pretty much just finished off the final boss!" But that still doesn't make that much sense. Why name the final chapter (arguably the most important one) after some whale that appears in the last like 15 minutes of the game? Like, take the final chapter name of (Kiryu) Gaiden, it's literally the name of the game (The Man Who Erased His Name) so it's gotta be something more significant than that, right? (But then of course take into the account that by this point the player is still convinced that nothing really in pyih is too deep/serious, so maybe it could just be something as simple as that).

Then you get to the credits, and they reveal that the "elixir"/the ambergris is found in the stomachs of whales. Damn, that's pretty crazy/cool, but once again, nobody that was actively seeking the treasure (Rodriguez, Jason/Noah, Spade Tucker, etc you know the drill) seems to hung up on the fact that they didn't find it, and they didn't even encounter the whale, so they wouldn't get that same sense that they just missed it either, again, it's not a big deal really, so why make that the final chapter title?

Of course, we all know what this builds up to: the big reveal, the fact that Majima, who we've been following along with this entire game, was looking for that elixir this entire time, was the only one to actually encounter a whale in the game, and then there's the insane line drop from Saejima.

"Kiryu Kazuma. You never could give up on that one."

Ironically, the final chapter title has nothing to do with that whale you saw earlier at all, rather it's a summary of what Majima's motivations/actions for this game, and the past. Almost every game, has meant for him. It's what Saejima spells out for us at the end of the game, but said in even fewer words.

An all-consuming obsession that only leads to your destruction. An impossibility, something that you can destroy yourself over but never achieve/obtain. This is what the white whale means, metaphorically. And it is this, exactly, that Kiryu is to Majima.

Kiryu is larger than life itself, to just about everyone. He's a legend, he's the one Majima has had his sights on since the very beginning, the legend he chases after game after game and also what he destroys himself over game after game.

(see:

Yakuza 1 -> Majima just straight up taking a full-on stab wound for Kiryu. Like, buddy, I literally saw one of my favorite characters die that way in another game, there was No guarantee you were surviving that.

Yakuza 2 -> Majima fights off an army of yakuza for Kiryu. That man was beat to total Shit (which is Not something that happens often) and we all saw it

Yakuza 3 -> Majima re-enters the Tojo Clan for Kiryu even though he is (extremely likely) aware that it is already entering its steady decline that we see throughout the rest of the series up until its dissolution. And while he's willing to do it for Kiryu, we can't exactly say that he's happy about the situation as a whole.

Yakuza 5 -> Majima's willingness to die for Haruka, specifically stated because "She means more to Kiryu-chan than life itself." Like, of course he wouldn't just let Haruka get killed, but to choose to mention Kiryu as part of his reasoning in that moment? Christ

While I (surprisingly) can't say anything particularly self-destructive happened in (Kiryu) Gaiden and Infinite Wealth, you could argue that Majima trying to more and more directly tell Kiryu not to leave ("No need to rush outta here yet... Alright?" -> "Don't leave! Don't you dare leave, Kiryu-chan!"), knowing that it's likely pointless, knowing Kiryu, is not doing himself any favors.

Pirate Yakuza -> *gestures at the entire game*

Also his reaction to encountering that giant squid ("Sure is a helluva way to die. I think I'm into it!"). Like, okay. I don't want to try and read too much into it because it was very likely just a one off line. But I'm still gonna side-eye it.

Honestly now that I think about it, if Majima Had died fighting that giant squid (that is such a way to begin a sentence thank you rgg), you could argue that that would've been his nail in the coffin for the white whale metaphor. If he had, it would've meant that his obsession for Kiryu is what got him dragged down into the literal depths of the ocean, and even if it wouldn't be Kiryu physically dragging Majima down like the white whale to Ahab, this is a situation that is completely, entirely, fueled by Majima's obsession towards him (Majima had no real interest in the nuclear waste cleanup project, after all, Kiryu was his one motivation this entire time), and it would've drowned him.

Guess that means he got real lucky with the last part, but we all know he sure as hell isn't beating the allegations.)

All this and yet Majima seems to fail to reaching Kiryu time and time again.

Majima does not obtain the Heart of the Dragon, found in the intestines of the literal whale. He does not obtain eternal life for Kiryu. And he (arguably, though the final scene of him walking to Kiryu's hospital room could oppose this) does not resolve the indefinite limbo that has been sitting between them throughout the entire series. What he gets at the end of the game is the acknowledgement (through Saejima, everybody thank him) that he has been obsessing over this, and perhaps the realization that Kiryu was, in fact, this white whale that he would never truly reach ("Well, still just a dream in the end.") Of course this is something he already knows/has acknowledged deep down, and it's a feeling that is hinted at in some of his dialogue in scattered moments, but this is the first time he ever says it in such an outright manner.

I guess in a way, you could say that Pirate Yakuza is a story about the newfound success of all the people Majima helped and supported in achieving their dreams, and the continued failure of Majima in pursuing his own (Kiryu), and him needing to acknowledge/accept that. And the post-credits begs the question of what he decides to do with the aftermath and what he has left. (An oversimplification definitely but still. augh. Augh)

Naming the final chapter White Whale was yet another crazy move on rgg's part. Its so unassuming, seemingly straightforward yet also seemingly insignificant, but once the realization dawns on you it slaps you right in the face, just like everything else about this game does. It's yet another instance of how rgg managed to pull its big reveal so well, with all the small details, all the reframing, all pointing back to the same topic that it had spent the entire rest of the game dancing around.

Majima recounting his story of how he went to Hawaii -> Majima recounts his story to Kiryu in the exact same way at the very end

The treasure everyone's been looking for/known about + Majima, the one guy who didn't have knowledge about any of this legend stuff prior? -> Wrong, he was after the treasure from the very start (before the amnesia at least). For Kiryu

Majima originally being on course for Hawaii so he could help with the nuclear waste cleanup even though he'd be bored as hell? -> Nah. For Kiryu (Ohhhhh you know what this is reminding me of some screenshots I took from near the beginning of the game)

(I'm sure this meant nothing of course. Lol. Lmao)

Majima's dream during pirate yakuza being to fulfill Other People's dreams -> Haha. Well, I think you get the point by now

Kiryu, Kiryu, Kiryu. It all goes back to Kiryu, every single time, without fail, in an obsessive loop that Majima has been dragging himself around over for Years. He is the white whale, seemingly untouchable, the constant object of Majima's attention and devotion in so many forms, his consistent weak point, that only seems to dig at him deeper as the games go on.

Like I said before, while the white whale metaphor is undeniable, and essentially spells doom for Majima, it's not over for him yet. Because, hey, he didn't drown at sea, or die on the beach. He was saved, and he's survived enough to retell that tale and reflect on it all with Saejima in the post-credits, brief as that reflection was. I mentioned before how he really only said one line of any actual substance during that specific part of the exchange, but the significance of it says so much.

"Well, still just a dream in the end"

As much as it hurts to here Majima address the hopelessness of it all, to hear him say something like that after Saejima basically just laid out his sheer devotion and refusal to give up on his dream for everyone to see, I think the bittersweetness is. Good, actually. Captain Ahab never gave up on that pursuit on the white whale, and it destroyed him; that whale dragged him down until he finally drowned, and it feels like all Majima has been doing over Kiryu since Yakuza 3 is drowning himself in him.

Don't get me wrong, I (for now at least) do not take that line as a complete admittance of defeat, or Majima finally giving up on Kiryu, on that dream he could never let go of. (Like I've been saying, it's an acknowledgement, not exactly a declaration.) I do not think it means he is just letting go, full-stop.

But I do hope it means he can stop himself from self-destructing completely. I hope it means that he can slow down with the wild chase, (and that he and Kiryu can just. Sit down and talk like fucking normal people. Which i guess they are doing in the post-credits, supposedly) and I hope it means that he won't drown completely, especially in the case of the worst possible scenario.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

second chance. l Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Summary: you broke up after a quarrel, now you've met again

Warnings: angst, mentioning drug addiction, crying, breakup, mentioned Santi, some fluff at the end

A/N: I had to clear my head. I'm not proud of it, but I had to write something. Be gentle. Thank you for being here and reading these scribbles.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist][Frankie Morales masterlist]

"Hi, you look good."

You didn't expect those words, but you knew that voice so well that your heart skipped a beat. A strange feeling filled your body, as if someone had suddenly stripped you of all your insides and left you empty. Even though the pub was filled with people, suddenly it was just you and him.

"Hi, Frankie." You replied, trying to keep your voice neutral. "You look good too."

A small smile appeared on his lips, he probably realized that it was just a polite greeting. A greeting for those who know each other. But you were more than that, right?

You didn't expect to meet him in this pub that evening. It was a strange assumption, because after all, you lived in the same city. However, when you break up with someone, and that breakup was like a hurricane and an earthquake in one, you don't usually try to meet them again soon.

And so it was with you and Frankie. Almost a year ago, maybe a little longer. And now he was standing in front of you. In a clean shirt and dark jeans, in a cap you knew so well. Brown eyes stared at you with the same attentiveness as before. He really looked good. Like he had a good night's sleep, eaten a few solid meals and... was clean.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, he noticed you looking around the crowd of people looking for someone with your eyes. "Um, are you here with someone?"

"With a friend." you replied. "Do you remember Sarah?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I remember. A girls' night out?"

"Something like that. But no, I don't come here often. I don't have much free time."

Frankie smiled, and a part of your brain woke up sending you a signal - you loved his smile so much.

"I always thought you worked too much." he said, winking at you.

"That's not it." you looked down and there was silence for a moment.

You felt embarrassed by his presence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. You had worked through all the bad feelings you had when you broke up, and you actually missed him a little. Did it make sense? You had broken your hearts, but you still missed him. Was it masochistic?

"I've been going to school for a while now. You know, I told you about it. Back in the day..."

Frankie's eyes widened with interest as he remembered what you were talking about. "No, shit! Really? That's great! You've wanted to do this for a long time, so good for you."

A warm feeling crept up the back of your neck, but you smiled widely. "Thank you."

Frankie bit his lip and nodded in appreciation. "I've always thought you were incredibly smart. So that's what's taking up so much of your time now? That and work?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I go days without a proper meal or... I'm sorry, that must bore you."

"No! Go on, darling."

The sweet nickname slipped out of his mouth naturally, and it was even more natural when he took your elbow and led you a little to the side so you could talk in peace. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you knew it so well. Your body began to react with pleasant excitement to his presence.

"And what about you? How's life?" you asked.

Frankie adjusted his cap and let out a breath. "Good. Quite good." he replied. "I changed companies, and now I have really good conditions."

"That's great."

"Yeah, I think so too."

It was late when he got home, but he could feel something was wrong from the very beginning. All the lights were on, and the noises coming from the bedroom were rather unusual.

Damn it, you should be asleep already. He didn't feel like starting another row, and they filled these walls almost every day. However, he dragged himself down the hallway and gently pushed the door open.

Frankie didn't expect this. There was an open suitcase on the bed. He noticed a bundle of your clothes thrown into it in disarray. The drawers in the dresser and the wardrobe were open.

He cleared his throat and took a step, but at the same moment you came out of the bathroom carrying your cosmetics in your hands. You stood there paralyzed when you saw Frankie in the doorway.

Your eyes were swollen from crying, but there was something else in them. Anger and stubbornness, determination.

"What's going on?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

You lifted your chin slightly. "What does this look like?" you asked as well, quickly approaching the bed and throwing your things into the suitcase. With a graceful movement you closed it "I'm leaving. It's over."

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He took a few more steps and put his hands on his hips watching you struggle with the latches.

"Come on..." Frankie began "It's late. Let's talk about this."

You didn't react. Something inside him boiled and he grabbed the handle of the suitcase, dragging it across the bed towards him.

"Leave it!" you hissed, catching it and holding it "I'm not joking, Frankie! I'm leaving! I've had enough!"

"What this time?" he replied a little too loudly "You're making a scene!"

Before the words left his mouth he already knew he had overdone it. Your eyes widened in a second.

You reached into your pants pocket and after a moment you threw something at him. The small bag bounced off his broad chest and fell silently to the carpet. He recognized it immediately.

"I found it in the car. You must have dropped it last time." you growled.

"It's not like that..."

"Bullshit!" Tears welled up in your eyes. "I've been hearing the same lies for months! I know exactly why you got fired! I wanted to help you, and you promised me you'd never... Ohhh!"

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pulled it to the ground, then headed for the door. You pushed past him without letting him grab your arm. Frankie had taken you to the edge. You'd been together for almost two years, and you really loved him. But his addiction was becoming more important than you. You asked, you wanted to help.

The therapist you found for him told you that Frankie had only been to see him three times before he stopped showing up at all. He told you that he went there regularly. Then there were the problems at work and he got fired, he started coming home later and later, and when you were looking for something that had fallen on the floor of your car and you found that damn bag - you already knew.

Your heart was breaking with every step, but you knew that Frankie needed shock therapy. You knew you couldn't...

"Frankie!"

You almost reached the door when you suddenly lost ground under your feet. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and Frankie lifted you up. You started kicking your legs.

"Let me go!" you screamed.

"You're not going anywhere! You can't!" he thundered, putting you down and turning to face him "You have to listen to me, it's not like that..."

"Shut up! You've been lying all this time! All this time!"

"Not when I said I loved you, hermosa."

"Oh! Cut this shit! This isn't love!" your face was full of rage, you wanted to hurt him, to stick a needle in him so hard that it would hurt him for a long time "You just needed someone to clean up the mess after you! Someone to pat you on the head and let you do all this! You needed a pussy you could fuck!"

There was silence. Frankie's hands were gripping your shoulders tightly, his eyes darkened.

"You know that's not true." he finally said.

"Yeah? And what of what you're saying is true? Nothing. Zero. I wanted to help you, but you don't care at all." you jerked away "Let me go, Frankie."

"You have to listen to me..."

"Let me go! Now!"

His fingers loosened and you slipped out of his hands. You grabbed your suitcase again and this time you reached the door.

"I love you." his resigned voice reached your ears.

"I'm not so sure about that anymore."

You took a sip of beer while listening to Frankie. He seemed excited about his new job, and the energy that flowed from him was simply positive. His hand would occasionally brush your arm or wrist as you both burst out laughing, his eyes looking at you with the tenderness you knew from the beginning of your acquaintance.

"I guess I'll have to go back now." You sighed, glancing at your phone. "I have classes tomorrow."

"Do you like it?" he asked, watching you text your friend back, informing her that you had to leave.

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him. Frankie shrugged.

"Your life. Now. Because it seems to me that you're different. More fulfilled? Happier?"

"I don't know, I haven't thought about it to be honest."

He nodded, his hand shyly finding yours. "Can I give you a lift home?"

You agreed. Maybe you shouldn't have, maybe it was a mistake. But Frankie had somehow found his way to your heart, and you didn't want to part ways with him yet.

"When you left..." he began as you drove through the empty streets towards your apartment "It hit me. Really hard."

You clenched your fingers, but you couldn't look in his direction. But Frankie clearly wanted to talk, maybe he had been waiting for this for a really long time and could finally get it all off his chest.

"I drank for three days. I don't remember much from that period. Santi showed up at my place and... He told me something I'll never forget."

You could barely recognize your own voice. "What did he say?"

Frankie cleared his throat. "He said it was all my fault. That I was dragging you down, and you were trying to keep us both afloat the whole time. He also said that if I wanted you back, that if I loved you at all, I should do something about it."

Something tightened your throat and your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. The car turned, you were already close to your apartment.

"I went to therapy. Santi took me there twice a week. It was a terrible time. He had to take my phone because I wanted to call you every day. I don't know how I managed to get through it without you."

"But you did it." You dared to look at him, a weak smile appeared on his face. "I'm so proud of you, Frankie."

"Thank you."

The car stopped. Your journey ended, and you got out, feeling like your legs were almost giving out under you. You whispered a quiet "thank you" and "I'm glad I saw you, Frankie." and then feeling like your heart almost jumped out of your chest, you headed for the door.

"I still love you."

You closed your eyes. His voice was clear, determined. You stopped, feeling like you could fall apart at any moment.

"Frankie..." you whispered, but he wouldn't let you do more.

He was right behind you now, you could feel the heat radiating from him. Your body reacted to his closeness.

"I knew you'd be at this pub today."

You turned around and looked at him, surprised. Frankie seemed embarrassed, but he continued.

"I met Sarah a while ago. We talked..."

He noticed a small frown between your eyebrows, "She didn't tell me anything..."

Frankie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged, "I begged her not to tell you. Listen, all this year you were the only thing that kept me alive. I wanted to be clean again, but I also wanted to be able to look you in the eye again. I'm sorry, hermosa... I'm sorry you went through all that with me. It was hell, and you tried so hard to save me."

You couldn't stop the tears that began to flow down your cheeks. You didn't even react when a warm hand touched your cheek and he wiped the tears away with his thumb.

"I still love you, hermosa." Frankie continued. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop. But I know I can't expect that from you, not after what I did."

"You hurt me, Frankie..." you sobbed, you saw the pain in his eyes, the same pain you still felt in your heart. "I wanted to save you, I wanted to save us... Maybe I wasn't strong enough?"

"No, it's not like that!" he shook his head, taking your face in both hands. "It wasn't a job for just one person. I understand that now. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let you down so much."

You instinctively snuggled into his chest. Damn, you missed him so much this year. Almost every day you wondered what was happening to him, or you thought back to the times when everything was fine. There were days when you hated Frankie, when you resented yourself for always having him in your heart. But now you understood - you had to fall apart to understand what was truly important to you.

Frankie stroked your back, repeating silent apologies, and you felt as if all the tension that you had in your body was slowly leaving you.

"You okay?" he asked when you finally pulled away from him, wiping the last tears with your hand and probably completely smudging your mascara.

You nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Don't apologize, hermosa. You have nothing to apologize for."

There was silence for a moment. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, rather one where you were both trying to gather your thoughts. Finally, you were the first to speak.

"I'm so glad you managed to do all this. I'm really proud of you, Frankie. Now... Now your life will be different, better."

"You think so?" he asked, and you looked at him surprised. "I guess you didn't hear what I said earlier. I love you, and I don't know if I'll ever stop. But I know I can't force you to do anything. You listened to me, that's already a lot. Maybe that's all I deserve."

He must have already accepted it, except that he lost you, because before you could answer anything, he slowly moved towards his car. You watched him, feeling your heart pounding in your chest like crazy. You weren't even aware that you had opened your mouth, only the sound of your voice that cut through the silence brought you back to your senses.

"I'm finishing classes tomorrow after three. If you want to go for coffee, or..."

In an instant Frankie turned around "How about for lunch? You'll definitely be hungry, and you said you haven't been eating very well lately."

You smiled and nodded. "Lunch sounds good."

"Wonderful." He smiled too. That damn smile of his.

"So... Are we in touch?"

"Of course, hermosa."

With a slightly calmer heart you disappeared into the building, feeling that the smile didn't leave your face. 

Maybe a second chance really did exist? Maybe you too had a chance for a new beginning...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[selfloverrrrrr]

PLEASE PLEASE write a dubcon(?) fic about seemingly innocent reader slowly and subtly seducing Priest Gojo whenever she goes to church. One day, her family stays at the church for a little while (for a church gathering), she excused herself from her family (saying that she needs some air), but really she followed Priest Gojo into his room and manipulates him into thinking that doing the dirty with her is okay because it'll only happen once. She locks the door and they do the dirty, she tightens her legs around Gojo's waist so he can't pull out when he came. thank you in advance!!

The sin

Warnings : Priest Gojo, manipulative reader, smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, dubcon, manipulation, cuming inside, P in V, biting, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Gojo's POV

This is sin! this is sin! this is sin! I told myself. But this is not even my fault. It's just that girl. Her name is y/n. She does that every time she comes to the church. She knows what she's doing. She kneels at the pew, hands clasped together in mock reverence, but her eyes are on me. Do i realise I'm the one being tempted?

Her skirt rides up just a little when she shifts in her seat. Not enough to be indecent, but just enough for my eyes to flicker toward her—just for a second. A second too long. Oh god forgive for starting. That's also a sin. She's trying to play a dangerous game.

“Lost sheep often stray from the path,” I said with steady voice, but there’s an edge to it now, as if I'm speaking just to her. She tilted her head, lips parting in a smirk. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here to guide me… Father.” she said almost..... seductive tone. She's doing it again.

My jaw tenses. She's patient, careful—each visit to the church. A soft touch when I handed her a Bible, fingers lingering a beat too long. A confessional whispered just a little too breathy. A soft bite of her lip when she said "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned".... And I looked in the other direction.

Y/n's POV

It starts small. A touch too sweet, a gaze too long, a confession too sinful. “I’ve been having… impure thoughts, Father,” I whisper in the confessional, trying my best sound innocent. “I don’t know what to do.” On the other side of the wooden lattice, I heard him shift. Even without seeing him, I know he’s tensing, his fingers curling in his lap.

“Temptation is natural,” he says, voice smooth but slightly strained. “The Lord teaches us discipline. You must resist.” I lowered my voice, almost a whisper.....but loud enough for him to listen. “But what if I don’t want to resist?”. Silence. Heavy, charged, and oh-so-dangerous. I smirked. Maybe it's working?

The next Sunday, I wore. I approach communion, standing before him as he lifts the wafer. My lips part obediently, but instead of taking it into my hands, I let him place it on my tongue, my lips brushing the tips of his fingers.

A sharp inhale. A hesitation that lasts barely a second, but I saw it. The way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his gaze darkens before he corrects himself. I swallowed slowly, maintaining eye contact as I whispered, “Amen.”

And when I kneel back at my pew, I didn't miss the way his hands tighten into fists, as if in silent prayer—praying, perhaps, for the strength not to sin. A small smirk appeared on my lips. But I knew, deep down, that soon enough… he will.

After two weeks

They had a gathering in the church. My family was there that night as well. I excused me telling them I needed some air. The church gathering is warm with flickering candlelight, soft murmurs of conversation, and the scent of incense curling through the air. My family is still inside, engaged in discussion with the others, unaware that I've followed him.

Father Gojo walks ahead, his long white cassock flowing behind him as he moves toward his private quarters. He doesn’t notice me at first, too lost in his own thoughts. But when the door creaks shut behind him and the lock clicks, he turns, startled. I lean against the heavy wooden door, my lips curling into something between innocence and something else.

“Little lamb,” he says, voice laced with warning. “What are you doing here?”. I stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “I needed to talk to you, Father. Alone.” His blue eyes narrow slightly, his usual playful demeanor guarded now. “You should go back. Your family is waiting.” But I didn't move. Instead, I take another step forward, my fingers grazing the wooden desk beside me. “I don’t think I can.”

He exhales, as if already sensing the danger. “You should.” I cut off his sentence “But I don’t want to.” I replied. The words are simple, but they hang between us like a curse. His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “This isn’t right.” I tilted my head, eyes glimmering with something wickedly persuasive. “Just once,” I whisper. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Gojo is strong. He is trained in resisting temptation, in guiding the lost back onto the righteous path. But I knew whatever I did it’s enough to make him falter. “We can confess after,” I breathe, stepping close enough that my body nearly presses against his. “God forgives, doesn’t He?” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

I smiled. “Then stop me.” He doesn’t. My smirk deepens. My fingers trail up, ghosting over the collar of his cassock, the stark white fabric a cruel contrast against the dark intentions lacing the air. Gojo doesn’t pull away. He knows he should. But he doesn’t. Instead, his hands come to my waist—hesitant at first, then firmer. As if he’s gripping onto the last shred of control he has left.

“Once,” he mutters, almost to himself, as if saying it aloud makes it true. I nodded with a smirk. And when his lips finally crash against mine, when he lifts me and took me to his bed. Almost dragged me. Oh he’s already lost. He pushed me on the bed and deepened the kiss. Kissing me as if his life depends on this.

When he pulled away he was breathing heavily. Gasping for Air. "Oh ......oh god forgive me...... forgive me for what I'm.... I'm about to do....." He said between heavy breaths while taking off his cassock. Then he took off his shirt. His toned body flexes against the warm candle lights.

I always admired his height. But never thought he had that well toned body. Looking at his body is already enough to make me wet. "Take off your clothes" his voice broke my staring. "Huh?" I replied looking at his eyes again. "What? Did you change your mind?" He asked. "Oh ...no..." I said and unbuttoned my dress and took it off.

He grabbed the back of my bra and unclipped it in a second and crashed his mouth on my boobs. Giving it wet mouthed kisses and sucking on the nipples breathlessly. Did I make him that much excited? "Fuck!" A chocked moan came out of my mouth as my head fell back and my hand grabbed his hair.

He pressed down his hips on my thighs for some relief as he heard my moan. And I felt that. He was rock hard. Oh he really is too excited. He trailed wet kisses down towards my stomach. Then stopped. Staring at my panties. His hand reached to take off my panties. His hand was shaking.

He slowly took off my panties. He was staring. Then he closed his eyes shut. "Oh god god god .... please forgive me! Please forgive me! Please forgi-" before he could complete his sentence I cut him off by grabbing his pectoral cross and pulling him close. His face was inches away from mine.

He's staring at me. He's still breathing heavily. "You should ask for forgiveness..... after you do the sin" I whispered in his ear and slid down my right hand inside his pants. I was shocked by the length and the thickness. I wrapped my fingers around his dick and stroked it. He moaned so loudly in my ear.

"does it feel good?.... it'll feel even better if you put it inside me" I whispered. His hand reached down and unzipped his pants. His pants fell on the floor. He lined up. His hands were still shaking. I jerked my hips forward and his tip pushed inside. "FUCK!!" he almost screamed. Then his hip jerked forward and pushed the rest of the length inside.

His head fell behind. Mouth wide open. Eyes rolled back. Of course his first time in this. He'll feel that pleasure.... He started thrusting. His length was stretching me to my limit. I grabbed the bedsheet tightly. His dick was too deep inside me. I never felt like this. It feels so good. Too much good.

"f-fuck.... you're so thight......oh god.....so warm....wet... h-huh... feels so good" he managed to say between moans and thrust. He pressed down his body on mine. My hands gripped his back as he started thrusting faster. "Oh my-..... harder.... P-Please harder....huhhh" I moaned in his ears.

He started thrusting at an animalistic speed. The room filled with the sounds of moan, groan, calling each other's name and wet skin slapping sounds. His hand reached down and started rubbing circles on my clit. Pleasure filled me at the same time I was shocked that this man knows how to please a woman? Within a minute pleasure overflowed and I came.

A chocked moan came out of his mouth as he felt me cumming. My walls squeezed tightly around his length. I felt his length pulsing inside me. He was about to pull out to cum outside but I wrapped my legs around his hips tightly and pulled him close. I hugged him tightly as I felt he was cumming.

"NO NO NO NO WAIT-" he panicked. I felt his pulse the last drop of his cum. I unwrapped my legs. He pulled out immediately. "NO NO NO NO NO THIS CAN'T BE!!!! OPEN YOUR LEGS! LET IT OUT! PLEASE!" He said panicked kneeling down in front of my legs. I crossed my legs close and sat up. Gojo was looking at me with pleading eyes.

I grabbed his chin. "Look, father.... A charming, tall, hot guy like you shouldn't be a priest...... I waited for this sooooo long." I said then leaned towards his face. "You have two choices. Whether you leave all this and be mine......or I'll go out right now tell everyone what we did.... and I'll tell that you forced on me.... think about your reputation.... and I know you are too famous in this city" I said. His eyes widened..in fear? I gave his a kiss and after all this he still didn't pull away? A smirk formed on my lips.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[colorlessjay]

Did sam give a wedding speech?

i like to think cas met garth’s sons AT the wedding. dean was like yea and sam and cas can be the ring bearers. and cas was like but. but me and sam? will be busy?

I had a whole bit where Sam's wedding speech is just him ranting about the decade-long pining he had to endure between these two and how he's happy for them but that they owe him for having to sit and watch them eyefuck

like it starts out sweet with:

"You know, when my brother came to get me all those years ago and took me back on the road, I never thought that road would lead me being the best man at his wedding. Our track record was pretty bad all things considered. But I'm glad to stand here, in front of my brother, the angel that brought him back to me the first time, and everyone we care about, toasting him on his apple pie future."

Then part way through, he says:

"Now I always got the feeling Cas was gonna be it for Dean. To be fair, they weren't very subtle. The way they were together, it made sense. But when Dean killed himself the second time after Cas died-"

And Cas turns to Dean all "YOU WHAT?!"

And then it goes on with:

"... If you thought them being together now is bad, imagine being me 10 years ago at the start of it..."

and it would end with something sweet like:

"Dean and Castiel are two of the most important people in my life. They've been there for me time and time again. I've watched these two die, live, love, and get hurt over and over again... and to see them finally get their happy ending isn't a miracle. Because they fought tooth and nail for each other and to be together. And as frustrated as I sound about being a witness to it all, I'm glad I was there. I'm glad to be here, seeing my brothers, my family, happier than they've ever been."

And obviously Dean is crying but he's covering it up by getting up and hugging his baby brother, smearing his tears on his jacket

Cas obviously gets his turn for a hug too, and is all, "Thank you for letting me be a Winchester."

"You always have been."

Sam immediately regrets that part of his speech when he realizes his hotel room is right across from Dean and Cas'

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

anyways, buzzbuzz

[niningtori]

clementine | preview

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after your explosive breakup and wordless, thorough disappearance from beomgyu's life, he's surprised to see that you've moved back to his town. when he happens to meet you again, beomgyu wants to apologize, maybe make amends for his unforgivable behavior, but he's devastated to find out that you've erased every memory of him. you don't want to remember him—or the love you once held onto so desperately—anymore. he knows that to be the case, so why is it so hard for him to feel the same way?

genre: angst, romance, potentially second chance, asshole!beomgyu to groveling! beomgyu (who saw this one coming...), inspired by eternal sunshine of the spotless mind tho i've never seen it and only know major plot points through cultural osmosis

warnings: angst, previous toxic relationship

word count: tbd

release date: really far in the future probably

notes: i received a request for this a while ago and i said i'd think about it then received an ask a couple of weeks ago saying another author was working on something based on the same movie. again, i've never seen the movie and i haven't read the author's work (or any new fanfiction rlly in the past few months cuz i haven't been in the headspace to enjoy it) so i will be making it up based off of the general concept of having memories of an ex erased. i said i'd wait to post it and i have every intention of doing so but i wrote this in a moment of inspiration and i've been posting previews so i thought i'd post this just as a teaser! it won't be out for a long time cuz i have so many wips and i don't want to be inconsiderate or invite weird, unsolicited comparisons. i just want to post previews bc i'm excited to get back into consistently writing after almost quitting 🥹

-

it’s jarring, to say the least, to see an estranged ex you used to love more than anything else in any unexpected context; but it's especially jarring for beomgyu as he watches you chatter away on your phone in the middle of the cafe he finds himself in. he catches your eye for just a second before you look away, and it's like he can't breathe. after your phone call, you smile as you type away on your screen. beomgyu gulps, because he knows that since you two made eye contact, it would be weird to just leave and pretend he didn't see you, though that's exactly what he wants to do. besides, no matter how much of a coward he is, he can't keep living with his unspoken feelings when he finally has the opportunity to express them, no matter how resolutely you might reject them. he hesitantly rises from his seat and walks over to you with unsure steps.

“hey,” he says unsteadily. you look up from your screen and give a forced smile, a far cry from the easy affection you used to give him. only him.

“uh, hey?” you reply. beomgyu worries he did the wrong thing by approaching you, especially because you seem confused that he said anything at all. you probably expected him to exit the cafe without a word, and the thought that you thought that he, who was once completely and utterly in love with you, would brush you off so easily brings a sharp pang to his chest.

“i… i know it’s been a while, but i… i want to, um, apologize for… everything.” he wants to lay down and die at his awkwardness, but he's wanted to say these words for so long, and no matter how much he’s compelled to swallow them down and safely tuck them away in the home they've carved out for themselves in his stomach, he knows this is the right thing to do. especially since you blocked him on everything before changing your number. especially since you moved away without a word after your disastrous breakup. especially since he hasn't seen you in so long, and he doesn't know if he'll ever see you again after this. your eyebrows furrow, and he braces himself for impact. but no amount of contrived mental fortitude could ever prepare him for your next words.

“... do i know you from somewhere?”

notes pt. 2: might delete this preview so be prepared for that possibility 🫰 peace and blessings :,) but please don't be mean or weird like actually

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

so…sub!hotch.

Whatever gender you prefer to interpret this as is totally fine but when I think of sub Aaron I think he just needs a strong, burly man he can fully *trust* to hold him down so he can let go. I think he has one of those moments where he gets smacked around a little bit and it’s this deep release, just absolutely sobbing and so desperate for comfort.

GOD YES HOLDING HIM DOWN

This post is Hotch x gender neutral!reader

*NSFW MDNI*

Holding him down plsplsplspspls I want to do that. I want to use his ties too.

I've never really thought much about smacking him around or making him cry and be desperate for comfort but this is definitely making me think about it.

He has to REALLY trust the person that he does this with though. It would take him a very long time to get comfortable with the idea of letting anyone do this to him. And I think he has to come to you about it first. Asking if you would ever want to try it, but that he was just thinking about it and that he isn't sure yet. You could definitely ask him first too, but you'd have to wait a good while before mentioning it to him because I think he'd be a little uncomfortable at first.

Once he is ready though, he tells you one night when you're both in bed together, probably watching some movie that neither of you are too interested in. And then he brings it up.

"Hey, you know how we talked about...well about you being really rough with me at some point? Well I've been thinking about it a lot lately and I think I'm ready to give it a try."

You need him to be completely sure though. So you ask him.

"Are you sure you're ready? You said you think you are. I want you to be completely certain about this, Aaron."

So he thinks for a second before nodding his head and telling you that he's definitely ready for it.

You both talk it through and talk about safe words. You explain what will happen and ask if he's comfortable with it all. You ask him what all he wants and what he is wanting to get from this experience. You both agree on what he doesn't want you to do to him. You know it could take a lot out of Aaron and you want him to be as ready and at ease as possible.

You would start slow and work him up to really getting rough. You spank him lightly a few times and gradually increase the force. I don't think he would like you using anything on him like a belt though. He likes it when you grab his jaw and force him to look at you.

I'm not sure about smacking him around a lot, I'd like to spank him a bit though so that's what I'm including here. Making him cry for release though is something I love. Maybe choking him some too 😮‍💨. But holding him down or tying him up is a favourite. He has finished more than once by the time you're done with him. He's whining and whimpering from overstimulation, begging you to give him a break but babbling about needing you to use him. If he really wanted you to stop you know he would say one of his safe words. Pinning his hands down when he tries to squirm too much or if he tries to make a move when you told him he wasn't allowed to touch you or himself.

And then how you clean him up and soothe him after everything to let him know he's safe and loved and that it's okay. He loves it when you hold him in your arms where he knows he can be vulnerable and let go. He doesn't have to worry about you really hurting him or anything. He likes feeling safe and secure with you and curling up in your arms.

Thank you for the ask!! I've never thought about something exactly like this especially not in depth but it was fun :)

[canary-clan]

PART 1/2 this moon has warnings! Careful

Very long Rambling below + If I forgot warnings tell me! Also idk if I'm keeping starclan as 'starclan' or just 'The Stars' for future

Aaaaahhh I've been waiting to draw this page! Since the very first leader doesn't get a full ceremony I thought 'what if the life ceremony was shown in relation to her deaths' (I havent played to far so idk if I can accullally do this for every one of Canarys deaths)

It is mentioned briefly in dialogue but since I don't think it will come up again I'll go into my ideas for Dove and Canarys history with each other...

Burrow-Clan was a very traditional clan that followed 'old rules'. Canary was the Star Keepers apprentice (a story teller and prophecy interpratior) a role created because having your doctor have visions of doom during treatment wasn't ideal... Dove really looked up to Canary, he wanted to be just like her but most of all Dove wanted to be able to talk to the stars... to be special to be helpful and important, but he couldn't even see glimpses of them at all, no matter how much he tried.

Then one day Canary disappeared. Its not unheard of for cats to be lost in the tunnels but it still hurt Dove deeply, he constantly was the subject of rumor for being the next star keeper after Canary since they were close. He resented this, the job was all he ever wanted but it cost his time of grief and made him have to constantly lie about his (lack of) connection to the stars

Moons/years pass, and he is woken up by... Canary? Sure this is a dream he indulges this fake version of his friends request to follow her out of the tunnel... and to take a forest walk to meet some of Canarys friends. But as they walk he realises. This doesn't feel like dreaming he can feel the dirt move under his paws and he can see the way leafs sway on the trees...

This is real. Canary is real, and alive... they are far from Burrow-Clan camp now when he turns around... and sees that Burrow-Clan has caved in, collapsed in... Canary stop him from running back... Canary knew she had to! She talked with stars and they knew everything and she didn't save them she left she disappeared and came back for what? Him?!? Why it didn't make any sense...

And now they are in a new clan... Canary-Clan. How dare she pretend to be leader when she didn't save her clan, his family.

(I dont know if any of the above is even readable or makes sense but I'm really tired so I'm not going back to reread it) I'm not a writer for obvious reasons, just needed this out of my brain.

[traincat]

i’d pay you real money for that “maybe baby” fic.

You can have it for free, but I do have a ko-fi if anyone is interested: https://ko-fi.com/traincat.

Anyway, the baby fic! Based on Fantastic Four Annual 2010, set nebulously post-Secret Wars (2015). I started this in 2016, so we didn't have any definitive answers for the Fantastic Four's return, but it's not really relevant to the fic anyway. I'm still putting together a list of the other WIPs I'm willing to release, but this is one is easy, so here it is.

Baby fic!

***

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h well this is still less complicated than the time i rescued a highlander

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h aw she likes her uncle benjy @clobberintime #rockstar

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h good thing about this is @peterbparker never checks his phone so he's still gonna be surprised

--

The first thing Peter registered was the vaguely defensive look on Johnny's face. The second was the baby.

"Wherever you found it, you put it back right now," he said.

The look Johnny gave him was venomous. "Oh, sure. Let me just toss the helpless infant back where she came from! What a great idea, thank you, Peter!"

"I'll get the portal ready," Val said. She was sitting crosslegged way on the other end of the room, holding a tablet computer like a shield and eyeing the baby like she might try to bite her.

"Shush," Johnny said, but it wasn't clear whether he meant it for the baby or Val or possibly for Peter, whose jaw had started making a strange grinding noise of its own volition.

Peter leaned forward to get a better look. The baby had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes and she was squirming in Johnny's arms even as he hummed and hushed and bounced her up and down, still dressed in his costume. She was so small, wrapped in what looked like one of the shock blankets from the Fantasticar's emergency kit.

"If I put her down, she starts to cry," Johnny confessed.

Peter's heart was doing something disturbingly close to melting. He tugged off a glove and reached out with tentative fingers, stroking soft cheek and wispy dark hair. The baby yawned, barely batting an eye.

Peter looked at Johnny and said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Johnny wasn't looking at him, though - his gaze was fixed on the baby, eyes soft.

"Look, Peter, you need to know before this part gets out - Reed ran all the tests. She's mine, Pete."

That threw Peter for a loop, but looking for traces of Johnny in the baby's face - yeah, he could see it.

"How? And don't tell me the usual way. Where did she come from?"

Johnny told him: the club, the girl, the supervillain. Peter hissed in sympathy when he hit the part about Psycho Woman spending two months hanging around in Johnny’s brain, touching his fingers to Johnny's temple. Johnny's voice wavered as he got to the end: the fall, the jump, Amy's disappearance through time.

"But time travel's weird. And we've torn everything apart and rebuilt it so many times… Amy never came back after she made the temporal jump," Johnny said, sliding Peter a cautious look, like he thought he might - what, upset? "I've gone looking for her before, but if she was out there, she didn't want me to find her. And then today we were just looking between dimensions, you know?"

"Just your typical Sunday," Peter said, mouth on autopilot while the rest of him was stunned. Johnny's child, here, safe in Johnny's arms - and to think Peter had swung in to ask about dinner and beating up the Shocker.

"Reed found traces of a familiar cosmic radiation signature," Johnny said, shaking his head. "Mine. And then we found her."

"So," Peter echoed, feeling lost. "She's yours. Really yours."

"Yeah," Johnny said, nodding. "She was all alone and in between. But she's alive and she's mine."

Peter leaned his head against Johnny's. "She's a little small for the Future Foundation."

"Well, the weird thing is," Johnny said, smiling, "they don't stay that way for long."

Val put the tablet down and said, "Oh come on, are we seriously not going to throw her back?"

--

Peter Parker @peterbparker 15m he promised me life would never be boring…

--

It had been at the end of the world. The incursion had been fast approaching, and this time - this time Peter could feel it in his bones. The end, just over the horizon.

It had scared him more than he ever wanted to admit.

"You're coming with us," Johnny had told him in a voice that brooked no argument. He'd caught Peter's hands in his own inhumanly warm ones, squeezing. "Reed says we'll have time once we're beyond. We'll work something out. We can fix it."

Peter had wanted it, so badly - but. Always the but.

"I should stay with the city. You've got room for, what, a hundred people?"

"Sixty," Johnny admitted, forehead creased in worry. "Peter - you're one of the big brains. You belong with us."

"One of, but not big enough," Peter said. "You need my spot for someone smarter, someone who can help fix this -"

The kiss had been unexpected, a tentative thing, just the soft press of Johnny's lips against his masked mouth, Johnny's fingertips careful as anything underneath his chin.

"You're family," he said, breaking apart, his forehead resting against Peter's. "And you're coming with us. We'll have time."

Peter took a deep shuddering breath and said, "Okay."

He let himself have this one selfish thing, standing on top of the Statue of Liberty with Johnny Storm the day before the end of the world.

He let himself be selfish, and then the raft split apart and Johnny paid the price. He knew it deep in his bones, every second he watched Johnny fall away. Maybe that was why he didn't say anything when they were returned safe and sound to their own world. Or maybe it was cowardice, him waiting for Johnny to make the first move a second time. Maybe it was the way he still remembered blinking the spots from his eyes down in Battleworld, staring at the sun in search of a familiar face.

It didn't matter. He had Parker Industries, and Johnny had moved on with Medusa. Peter had gotten one kiss at their usual spot - if that was all he was granted, well, it was more than enough for two lifetimes. He could live with it.

Except he lost the company, Medusa worked it out with Black Bolt, the missing members of the Fantastic Family returned with a fairly literal bang, and Johnny and Peter ended up crash landing in a rooftop hotel pool.

Parker Luck, doing its very finest.

He'd taken the brunt of the hit, thankful for it - he was more durable than flamed-off Johnny - but the rush of cold water made him gasp, fighting his way to the surface. Johnny surfaced beside him, gasping, and Peter grabbed a handful of his collar. He dragged them both to the shallow end as tourists scattered left and right.

"We're fine, thanks for asking!" Peter shouted after them. "Can anybody grab me a towel?" Johnny was laughing by the time Peter collapsed against the steps, languishing in knee deep water. "New Yorkers. What's so funny?"

"You," Johnny said, looking at Peter with shining eyes. He started laughing again when Peter groaned, shoulders shaking with it. Peter slid a hand over the back of his head, checking for bumps.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Peter said. He told himself to take his hand off Johnny, but he didn't. He just kept touching him, pushing Johnny's soaked hair up off his forehead. Johnny was staring at him, all traces of humor gone from his face. Now or never. Peter swallowed hard. "Johnny, you know I -"

"Just shut up," Johnny said, climbing into Peter's lap. He shoved Peter's soaked mask up over the bridge of his nose, twining his arms around Peter's neck. "Shut up, shut, god, Pete, why don't you ever say anything important?"

The kiss made Peter's head spin -and he had to grab Johnny by the shoulders and put some considerable strength into prying him off just long enough so he could talk.

"Me? What about you?" he said. "I thought - you never said anything when we got back."

"What about me?" Johnny said, pouting a little when Peter wouldn't let him lean forward again. "You're supposed to be the smart one."

Peter couldn't argue with that without walking straight into a trap.

"Dammit," he said, and pulled Johnny back on top of him until security showed up.

--

May Parker-Jameson @mayparker 3m When you learn important family news from TWITTER of all places

--

"May - May, I am telling you, I did not know about this," Peter said, standing in the doorway with the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear, one hand in his hair, the other on his hip. "Because I'm pretty sure you knew before me, is why. No, I don't know - I got home and he was holding a baby, okay, that is the extent of the story. He found her. Yeah, like, with a dog - I'm not calling your grandchild a dog, your grandchild, what, whose side are you on?!"

Johnny was laughing at him from the other room, which he thought was completely unfair. Peter threw strangling motions at him, scowling. Johnny stuck his tongue out. The baby cooed.

"Can I put him on the phone? Can I make him explain this to you?" he said, listing to the side until his head hit the doorframe.

"Hi, May!" Johnny called cheerfully, making the baby wave. He was a monster and Peter deeply hated his coalition with his aunt. He zoned back in time to hear "- you're my nephew, I want to hear it from you."

"I'm your nephew, yeah, but he's the one who went time hopping and found his kid." He sobered, rubbing at his forehead. "Honestly, May, I'm telling you, I know as much as you do."

"Well, I could do with knowing her name," May said, clucking her tongue.

Peter blanked. He cupped a hand over the receiver and leaned forward. "Johnny. What's her name?"

Johnny blinked, then looked down at the baby. "Um."

"Yeah, May?" Peter said into the phone. "We're actually going to have to get back to you on that one."

--

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Some days it's just not worth your custom ordered MAC foundation. "Crocodile” btw.

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Told the woman I was really more of a shark. She didn't laugh. It's not easy being green, folks.

--

Jen dropped off paperwork with a lot of eyerolling, a threat of resignation, and an order that the baby be kept away from her.

"This is Stella McCartney," she said, gesturing to her blazer. "You keep that thing out of range."

"Hey!" Johnny protested.

(...)

Jen gave the baby one last warning look and then whirled out on her heels, moloid kids flocking in her wake.

"Auntie Jen is a scary Hulk," Johnny told the baby. The baby gurgled in agreement.

"Auntie Jen heard that!" Jen yelled from the hall. "Start with picking a name! Jennifer's a great one!"

"Have you considered Petunia?" Ben asked nonchalantly.

"I have never and will never consider Petunia," Johnny said blithely. "Next suggestion."

"Howzabout Benjamina?" said Ben.

"No," Johnny said. Peter made a hemming noise and he repeated, forcefully, "No."

"Benita?" Ben said, rocky brows raised high. Peter stifled a snicker with a fake cough, ducking his head.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Johnny asked Ben, scowling.

"I came back from space for this family and this is the treatment I get," Ben grumbled, getting up off the sofa. He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. His gaze went all soft at the sight of Johnny and the baby. Peter couldn't blame him. "Hey, kid. I'm really happy for ya."

Johnny looked up at him and smiled, tired and real. "Love you too, Rocky."

Ben heaved a great sigh like Johnny's love was some kind of terrible life sentence - Peter knew the feeling - and left the room.

"This is hard," Johnny said, throwing his head back. The baby was asleep in his arms, blissful in her ignorance. "Can I conference in Victor?"

"Please don't," Peter said. He stroked the baby's soft, downy hair with one gentle finger, feeling an equal mix of awe and terror. "Marie?"

"Like Mary?" Johnny said, contemplative. "My mom's name was Mary."

Peter shifted. "Uh, sure. But also like - Marie Curie?"

Johnny looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you serious?"

"She discovered two elements!" Peter said, defensive.

"She died from radiation poisoning!" Johnny said. "I don't care if it worked out for you!"

(...)

"Just in the grand plan for my life, this is not how I thought it'd go," Peter said.

"And then you got bit by a radioactive spider and all the rules went out the window," Johnny said, yawning. "Old news. Pete, you know I'd never ask you to do anything you're not ready for. I want this, but if you don't -"

The sincerity on his face was unbearable. Peter cupped a hand to his face and shut him up the only way that ever really worked.

"Aimee," Johnny said at last. His head fell to Peter’s shoulder; Peter curled a hand in his hair. "After her mom."

"I like it," Peter said, watching her sleep. "Aimee it is."

Aimee Benni Storm was what was written on the birth certificate in the end. Johnny looked Peter straight in the eye and said, "You tell Ben and you're a dead man."

--

(...)

"See?" Sue said, humming. "Living with the in-laws has its perks. I remember this age - it's a good one. Just wait 'til they can talk back."

"I love you," Peter told her. "Leave Reed and run away with me to Majorca."

Sue smirked, leaning over to palm his cheek. "You're adorable."

--

"Whoa," Miles said, flipping out of nowhere and matching his swing with Peter's. "Is that a baby?"

"Here," Peter said. "Why don't you hold her for a sec?"

"Oh, I don't, um, okay, wow, hi, baby," Miles stammered when Peter didn't give him much of a choice. Aimee was a sucker for anyone in webs, so Miles ended up making alarmed sounds when tiny hands tried to grab his mask. "When did you get a baby?"

"She's the Human Torch's baby, technically," Peter said, stretching.

Miles looked down, clearly alarmed through the mask. "Is she gonna light on fire too?"

Aimee cooed.

"Nah," Peter said, arms high above his head. "Probably not."

"Peter!" Miles said.

"I am like 98% sure she will remain flame free," Peter said. "But fine, give her back."

Peter was pretty sure the only reason Miles didn't thrust Aimee back was because he was too afraid to make any sudden moves. She made a sleepy, annoyed noise when Peter lifted her from Miles's arms.

"Why do you have the Human Torch's baby?" Miles asked, a very quiet version of shouting.

(...)

"Last chance to keep her," Peter said.

"I'm good," Miles said.

--

“Okay,” Sue said when she found them in the kitchen at three in the afternoon. Johnny was still in pajamas; Peter was wearing half his spider-suit. Aimee was wearing brunch. “Enough is enough. When was the last time either you left this building?”

“Carjacking,” Peter said, yawning. “Guy dressed like a possum knocking over a Chase. Do I need to go on?”

Johnny was trying to get mashed banana out of his hair. “I don’t know, I think I did something - Tuesday? Was it Tuesday? I had that interview.”

“You cancelled that interview,” Sue told him.

“Huh,” said Johnny, then made an outraged squawking noise when Sue swept in and grabbed the baby from him. “Hey!”

“You’re going out tonight,” Sue said, eyes narrowed. “Together.”

Johnny and Peter stared at each other.

“Together, like, him and me?” Peter said, gesturing between them.

“I think we used to do that,” Johnny said faintly.

“Save the comedy routine,” Sue told them, bouncing Aimee in her arms. All the mashed banana didn’t seem to bother her. She jerked her chin first at Johnny, then at Peter. “You, put on something nice. You - try to do the same. I’m making a reservation for you someplace nice, without supervillains or babies.”

“Do we have to?” Peter asked.

“Can’t we just sleep instead?” Johnny said.

“No,” Sue said. “It’ll be good for you.”

“This is not paying me back for all the times I babysat for you!” Johnny called after her as she carried Aimee from the kitchen down the hall.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sue said. “Ben owes me a favor.”

Johnny scowled at her back. “She took my baby.”

“Aw no,” Peter said, plucking at his spandex. “I’m going to have to wear a dinner jacket, aren’t I.”

--

Peter came through the door so tired he couldn't see straight, only to have a baby shoved into his arms. Aimee gurgled happily when Peter's arms came up around her automatically.

"Oh no," he said. "Johnny, I'm about to fall over -"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Johnny said, not sounding very sorry at all. He leaned into kiss Peter - that Peter kissed back was muscle memory, he was pretty sure, because the only thing he felt towards Johnny in that second was the sleep-deprived urge to strangle. "I've got that photoshoot, remember? I'll be back soon, I promise. Love you!"

Peter watched him go with narrowed eyes.

"Should we tell him his shirt's on backwards, Firebug?" he asked Aimee. She put her head down against his shoulder with an annoyed sounding little sigh. "No? No." He hummed to her, heading for the couch. "I'm gonna go evil and I'm gonna kill your dad, yes I am. This is my supervillain origin story."

(...)

"Peter? Are you awake?" Franklin whispered.

"M'just resting my eyes," Peter replied.

"Okay," Franklin said hesitantly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Peter cracked an eye open. "Do you have a Galactus stashed in the basement?"

"No," Franklin said, looking a little put out about it.

"Then go for it," Peter said, yawning.

Franklin was quiet for so long Peter had almost drifted off when he spoke.

"When Dad and Mr. Reece and I were putting the universes back the way they should be… I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I knew Uncle Johnny was going to be lonely without us, and I think I maybe accidentally gave him Aimee back."

Peter rolled over onto his back, fully awake now. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, thoughts tumbling - how unfair it was that any kid in the universe should be able to do what Franklin could. How glad he was that if any kid could, it was Franklin.

"But I think I messed up," Franklin said. "She didn't end up where she was supposed to."

(...)

--

"Okay," Peter said, "I know this might not be the best kind for this conversation -"

"You are gifted with the understatement!" Johnny shouted as he streaked by a little too close for comfort, a rush of flames and heat.

"Spidey," Johnny said, swooping down to hover in front of him. "Get to the point, please."

"My point," Peter said, as best as he could with Johnny so bright and so hot and so close, "is that we might need a nanny."

Johnny turned his face towards him, his eyes glowing embers and his face barely more than an outline in flickering flames - and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh," he said, darting away. He circled a group of bugs, leaving them huddled together and clacking while Ben bagged them. "Now he wants a nanny. Do you believe this?"

(...)

--

Ben Grimm @clobberintime 1m when you wanna watch the game and the marrieds + kid are asleep on the couch. what a revoltin development.

--

Peter woke slowly, drifting in and out of consciousness, too warm and content to care.

"Ben took a photo of us and put it on the internet," Johnny said, waving his phone.

***

And that's the WIP! Not much action, just Johnny and Peter being cute with a baby.

[tricksh0t]

★ goody two-shoes

☾ gregory house x cop male reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ just a quick thirst, don't start freaking out, also sorry if he turns out ooc cuz i've literally only watched tiktok clips from the show

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 1.26k words

cw: suggestive thirst, but no nsfw, trying to corrupt a cop

You've seen everything in your time as a traffic officer. Specifically everything about traffic, of course.

Men, that could possibly be great-grandparents, taking a little too long to move after the red light while driving the family hatchback, doing their grandkids a favor by driving his great-grandkids home.

Old men speeding because their reflexes are just not the same or they can't tell how fast they're going or their vision fails them and they read the speed limit sign wrong.

Men in their mid-life crisis driving the restored version of the old car they yearned to have in their childhood, speeding because they want to feel that rush thet felt lacking in their life.

Younger men speeding in their beatdown cars because they slept in one day and ended up being late for work, fearful of a paycut.

Young men speeding in their flashy sports cars because they're rich and apathetic, because they think the world revolves around their money.

You thought, however, that this shift would be boring. Hoped for it, even. It was a late night. You were just looking to kick your feet up on the dashboard, park under a shadow and fuck around on your phone.

You were wrong, though. Of course you were.

You've seen a lot of things, but not this. A graying man speeding late at night like he has somewhere to be that isn't home. No, no, who are you to judge?

...is that a cane on the side of his bike?

House sighs as sirens follow him. He should've known that dark shadow was a perfect spot for a cop.

He pulls over, like the good citizen he is. He gets off his bike, like the good citizen he is.

"Officer." He greets cordially, placing his helmet on his bike with a sigh. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

You raise a brow. You can already tell this old man is going to have an attitude. "This will take as long as it needs."

The man has the audacity to roll his eyes and cross his arms. "Look, I've got a busy night ahead."

"Tell me about it." He opens his mouth, but you stop him. There's some satisfaction in making him look like a gaping fish. "While you look for your license and registration and proof of insurance."

He gives you more attitude when he looks to the sky as if muttering a quick prayer before digging into his decidedly tight pants and fishing his license out of his wallet.

You inspect it, but he stays still as you do so. "Look for your papers, sir."

Not expired, good...address isn't too far from here to justify speeding...he certainly looks like his picture. His name is Gregory House.

"I don't have them."

"You don't have them?" You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. "You–"

"This jacket is small enough as it is, and before you ask, it is stylish and protective. Scraped skin is more painful than it is harmful." He locks eyes with you. A man several years your senior, staring you down to try to make you back down. With what, attitude?

Luckily, you have the better hand. You're taller, you're bigger–no, nevermind all that, you're a cop. "You–"

"Exactly why did you pull me over again?" House tilts his head.

"Speeding." You say between gritted teeth. "Twenty over the speed limit."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He says, kicking off his bike to stand upright. He shuffles closer with an awkward gait, yes, that was a cane on his bike. "It's late at night. Age gets to you, you know, officer. I couldn't see very well."

"That's what the lights on your bike are for." You say, shoving your hands into your pockets and breathing deeply. You can't let him get on your nerves. "And you're driving a motorcycle, sir, I think you can't play the age card."

"You don't get to decide that." Despite his bad leg, he stands up tall, challenging you. You see eye to eye, and you notice he's not exactly handsome...but there sure is tension, there.

"Really?" You huff out a laugh. All thoughts about keeping your calm are gone after that.

House smiles. "Really."

"Well, I do get to decide that you are going to sleep in cold jail cell tonight."

His smile disappears, replaced with a frown. "Come on, officer. You're seriously not going to detain me over not having my papers, are you? That's absurd. And it's petty, too. Even you cant deny that."

"That's funny," You scoff, "I'm thinking the same about you."

Out of all things, House looks offended at that. "Fine, fine you know, I can understand that, really, officer. I deserve it. I'm an asshole, I know, but you like it, don't you? You can't help but find my words charming."

You breathe out a huff, something between laughter and disbelief. "Now that is something I've never heard before."

"Something you've never heard before?" He seems to be in disbelief too, "I'm sure you've heard it from some young lady, maybe even another man. You mean you've never heard it from an old man, don't you?"

He takes your silence as a yes. "You know, there's always a time for firsts."

"You're really not as charming as you think you are." You approach. He walks backwards in return, but you follow, up until the back of his foot hits his tire.

"I'm a doctor." House begins desperately. "I'm expected at the hospital tomorrow for an early morning shift. You're not going to stop me from saving lives are you?"

For a moment, you let him think he's got you. You let the words sit in, like you're really thinking, like you're sympathizing with him. "Are you resisting arrest, sir?"

"What? No–"

You take his arm and spin him around, keeping his forearm pinned against his back.

"Hey!"

You use that forearm to press him against the back of his own back and pin him down further. When the first cuff wraps around his wrist, he begins to protest.

He doesn't even say "we can talk about this". He just starts talking. "Oh real funny, yeah. Pin down the helpless old cripple."

Then the other cuff wraps around his other wrist. "I bet this is one of your fantasies. Pinning down an old man and using him as you please. I'm too weak for you, I'll admit that. So why don't you just push me against the hood of your work car and do as you like?"

Staring down at the way his leather jacket and loose shirt ride up, you're certainly tempted. His tight pants do nothing for the imagination, especially with how close you are. You're pressed against him, really.

If he were a woman, with his short jacket and his belted pants, you might've even seen the peek of a thong from this angle...but he's not a woman. Yet, undeniably, the curve of his ass still entices you. His attitude would certainly be fun to quiet.

...but you're a cop.

The handcuffs click as they're pushed as tight as they can be.

"You want to have a fun time?" You ask, forcing him to stand back up with a grip on the cuffs. "Jail's fun. You can imagine the cold as the climate of a skeeing mountain."

As you drag him off towards your car, he digs his feet into the ground. "Wait, my bike!"

"You know the rules. It'll be towed." You continue dragging him.

House sighs. "Fuckin' goody two-shoes cops."

[xemylixa]

I myself must confess that, with fictional characters, I kinda alternate between judging them as characters (in which case they're tools to tell a story, so anything goes so long as it arranges itself in an interesting pattern), and as people (in which case holy shit get away from me the lot of you!), with very little in-between, lol.

So, from this latter idealistic perspective, I must note the fact that Kmicic paid an eye for an eye and judge him for it, even though I understand his motivation just fine. It's how my brain works currently. I absolutely understand what you meant, though. I just can't commit to such a sentiment myself, if you know what I mean.

Kmicic's saving grace is, indeed, that sincerity you noted (I've no idea how he even lies with such cunning - that Charisma score allows for some insane Deception checks! sorry for the D&D lingo, it's true tho). And, particularly, a vital interpersonal skill that it allows him to have and that I learned the term for recently - accepting influence. Once Oleńka's cutting words land and make him think about where he is in life, and this brick wall of "I'm awesome and doing the right thing! :D" allows a trickle of bitter truth through it - there is no turning back. (Especially when it's Michał - this time it's a peer saying that; and Oleńka is still a woman. Kmicic is a horrible snob and that never really changes. The Tatars, like you said... yuck. Oh, and he kidnaps her - I think we're all really quick to forget that one! He completely escapes responsibility for a lot of things. I'm salty about that. Anyway...)

The same acceptance of influence, I think, becomes a core belief of "I need help, and I need guidance", as opposed to "I'm always right and if I'm not the worse for the facts". He knows he hasn't got it all figured out - and so he staggers like three different times between different lords. (Eventually landing on The Right One after literally the same thought process that got him into Radziwiłł's trap... because of course the problem was "whom to serve under" and not "what do I personally believe in", riiiight author? :D I despise feudal morality with all my being, by the way; does it show?)

And that would be why he acknowledges Kuklinowski as a possible reflection of himself - because he no longer thinks he's above all this. Also, Kuklinowski was "his biggest fan uwu", and by now his very existence only reminds him of the darkness within himself that he's only just sort of conquered (with strict guidance, again).

I'm not sure Kmicic is actively afraid of this still being his future. I think it's mostly a symbolic way to get back at his own past, now that he knows how horrible it was.

...I used to be better at writing concise essays, I swear. This just ran away from me. You put it a lot better than I could.

czemu ta scena jest taka silly

be who you are

[solxamber]

Hi i hope you're having a great day ! I'd like to request for the valentines event :3 Azul, Romantic, "My Sweetest Love" by The Cat's Whiskers (feat. Kazuma Mitchell) Thankyou so much for your hard work :D

PARADOX LIVE??? IN MY INBOX??? I'VE PRAYED FOR DAYS LIKE THESE

"My Sweetest Love" || Azul Ashengrotto

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: My Sweetest Love by Cat's Whiskers (ft. Kazuma Mitchell)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 940

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: First Date, Friends to Lovers

Azul had imagined this night countless times. He had planned every detail, every possible outcome, rehearsed the words he would say and the way he would say them—because when it came to you, nothing could be left to chance.

You deserved only the best. And now, finally, you were his—at least for tonight.

He arrives at your door in a sleek, polished car, stepping out with a confidence that masks the rapid beat of his heart. The moment you step outside, dressed to the nines, with that unmistakable glint of amusement in your eyes, his breath catches.

He’s always thought you were resplendent. He’s known it for as long as he’s known you. But tonight, something feels different. More real. More his.

He opens the door for you, ever the gentleman, though the brush of your fingers as you settle inside nearly undoes his carefully constructed composure.

Azul has never liked feeling out of his depth. It is a sensation that reminds him of deep, crushing waters, of helplessness and uncertainty. But he has prepared for this. He has made sure everything is perfect.

A reservation at the finest restaurant, an exquisite menu, wine hand-selected for the occasion. A night designed for you.

Nothing less than perfection. Nothing less than the absolute best.

Because Azul knows you. He knows your tastes, your preferences, the subtle shifts in your expression when something truly pleases you. He wants to see that expression tonight, not because of some business deal, not because of some carefully crafted persuasion—no, this time, he wants it simply because he loves you.

And he does. He loves you more than he should, more than he ever intended to.

The realization settles in his chest like an anchor, but tonight, he allows himself to sink into it.

Just this once, he tells himself. Just tonight, he will not hold back.

He watches you across the candlelit table, the golden glow of the restaurant soft against your features. When you laugh, he can’t help but smile—real, unguarded, the kind that only comes when he’s with you.

His heart beats faster.

Everything about tonight feels unreal, like he’s trapped in a dream, one where you are his and there is no fear of waking up to a world where you are not.

He wonders if you can hear it. If you can see through him as easily as you always do.

By the time dinner is over, Azul has spent the entire evening ensuring your happiness, watching as you indulge in every luxury he can offer. But it is not enough. It will never be enough.

Because no matter how many resources he has, no matter how much power he wields, there is one thing he cannot control.

Your heart.

The night air is cool as you step outside, and without thinking, he shrugs off his coat, draping it over your shoulders. The gesture is instinctive, natural—until your fingers brush against his as you adjust it, and suddenly, the breath leaves his lungs.

It takes everything in him not to pull you closer.

He suggests a quiet drive, something away from the crowds, the noise, the distractions. A night cruise, perhaps. The ocean, the stars, just the two of you.

You agree without hesitation.

Azul grips the steering wheel a little too tightly.

The drive is peaceful, the city lights flickering behind you as the road stretches ahead. When he glances at you, he sees the way your eyes soften, the way the reflection of the stars dance in your gaze.

And suddenly, he thinks—maybe this is enough.

Maybe, for tonight, he can allow himself this fantasy.

His fingers twitch against the wheel. Even after parking, he's clutching it like it's the only thing that's keeping him grounded. He wants to say it. Wants to tell you how much you mean to him, how every carefully laid plan, every luxurious choice tonight, was all for you.

But before he can gather the courage, you speak first.

“You really thought of everything, huh?” you muse, turning to him with that teasing lilt in your voice. “Should I be worried?”

Azul chuckles, but the sound is softer than usual. “Is it so unbelievable that I’d want to make you happy?”

You hum, considering. Then, with a smirk, you add, “Well, I do like seeing you like this. You should take me out more often.”

His heart stumbles over itself.

Azul hesitates for only a moment before he turns to you fully, his voice quieter now, more serious.

“Then let me.”

The words linger between you, unspoken questions hanging in the air. And then, slowly, he leans in—closer, closer—until he can see the way your lashes flutter, the way your breath catches just slightly.

And you don’t pull away.

You don’t move back, don’t laugh, don’t tease.

Instead, you close the distance.

And in that moment, just as your lips meet his, Azul swears—

Nothing will ever compare to you.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event