#No ones even reading this so why am I still typing

[danielsarmand]

guys i truly hate to be the one to tell you this but jayvik was never gonna kiss on screen. i don't know why some of you actually believed they would, and are therefore disappointed now. they are not the type of ship that “goes canon” and seals it with a visual representation of their romantic love for each other, this is not how they were written. i am begging you to be honest with yourselves and stop expecting stuff you weren't promised by any means.

i'm not trying to be mean, but as soon as an ounce of content comes out instead of celebrating it like we should i find myself drowning in doomposting. i need you to keep track of jayce and viktor's storylines so far and how deeply interconnected they are. really, neither can exist without the other. if you take one of them away, the other lack motives, means, guidance, reasons. they were clearly meant to be each other's narrative foils, every single step in their storylines had to do with the other and THAT is jayvik.

reading between the lines is sometimes a requirement, but not even that—you just need to let go of traditional expectations when it comes to them, and embrace the fact that some people can be destined for each other even if you don't see them fuck nasty on screen.

i don't even want to mention the whole sky thing because it gives me a headache just to think about. sky was never her own character which is why i never cared about her, she was always a symbol for something else. draw your own conclusions! (hint: she still is)

[weemssapphic]

Post-Gym Workout

Miranda Hilmarson x f!reader

a few months ago, @jadewolf22 requested sub!Miranda x reader hitting the gym together and Miranda getting turned on by reader lifting weights. cue sex with manhandling, spanking, marking, praise, degradation. this is that and I haven't written smut in a while so please be kind 🤍 (also sorry for disappearing I am Overwhelmed and Exhausted but I'm still here and I love you guys)

words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

‘I’m outside’ you text Miranda just after pulling into a spot outside of her apartment building, unable to stop your lips from curling into a smile when she immediately reads the text and starts typing.

‘Be right out! x’ 

Dropping your phone into the cupholder of your car, you drum your fingers against the steering wheel and wait for your girlfriend to come outside. It’s unbearably hot, even for an Australian summer, and you crank up the AC and put your hair up to keep it from sticking to the back of your neck. You’re beginning to regret the decision to go to the gym today, but it’s rare that you and Miranda have a day off together and she’s been begging you to hit the gym with her - you’re going to have to suck it up.

A flash of blonde in your peripheral vision makes you turn your head to see Miranda taking long strides towards your car, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. A massive grin lights up her face the second she makes eye contact with you through the windshield and she jogs the remainder of the way to the car, tossing her bag onto the backseat before sliding in next to you and leaning across the center console.

“Hi, baby,” you murmur against the blonde’s lips as she immediately goes in for a kiss, which you quickly deepen. Miranda’s smile is lovestruck when she pulls back and puts on her seatbelt, and the two of you fall into easy conversation on the short drive to the gym.

You notice Miranda’s gaze lingering on your body a few times as the two of you get changed in the locker room - you decide to tease her by making a show of bending over to put on your leggings. When you turn around, you’re secretly gleeful to find that her cheeks have turned a lovely shade of pink. 

“Like what you see?” you tease as you close your locker and grab your water bottle and towel from the bench. Miranda rolls her eyes and smiles sheepishly, turning to grab her own things in a vain attempt to hide her growing blush. 

As you work out, you can tell that Miranda is trying to be subtle about checking you out, but you know her too well not to notice. You can’t say you don’t feel the same way - watching her work up a sweat is starting to make you really glad you agreed to accompany her today (even though your own arousal is starting to feel a little frustrating).

It’s when you’re at the squat rack, reracking the barbell you’ve just had across your upper back, that you look at Miranda through the mirror, sitting on a bench behind you, her eyes glued to your ass and her cheeks gorgeously flushed, and decide you’ve had enough.

“I’m taking you home,” you say abruptly, grabbing your towel and water bottle from the floor next to the rack and turning around to walk straight past your partner. Your tone seems to snap her out of whatever perverted daydream she was immersed in, and she shoots up and trails behind you, her brows knit together in confusion.

“What? Why? Are you okay?”

Her legs might be longer than yours but your determination drives you to the locker room in record time, with Miranda stumbling after you.

“I wasn’t finished,” she whines with a pout as she follows you into the locker room, but you’re too busy checking to make sure you’re alone to respond right away, abandoning your belongings on a bench. Once you’re satisfied that you’re alone, you turn on your heel, with Miranda closer than you’d expected her to be.

“I don’t think you’re going to have any trouble finishing later,” you husk, one arm wrapping around her waist as the other hand slides into her hair and pulls her in for a heated kiss. Miranda’s frozen for a moment - then the meaning of your words registers in her brain and she moans, kissing you back eagerly as her hands find your hips. Her lips part for you in a silent request to deepen the kiss - you slip your tongue into her mouth, your jaw nearly going slack as you taste her and feel your clit throb with need.

You pull back, breathing heavily, your eyes hooded as you look up at Miranda through your lashes - she looks a bit dazed as she looks down at you, her chest heaving and her milky skin splotched with red. You smirk as you step away, opening your locker to pull out your bag and toss your things haphazardly inside, before slinging it over your shoulder. “Well?”

Miranda follows briskly behind you, and it takes all your self-restraint to keep your hands off of her on your way to the car. The drive back to Miranda’s place seems to take forever - the air in the car feels hot and heavy despite the AC, and Miranda doesn’t make it any easier for you by squirming noticeably in her seat.

The second you arrive at home and she closes the apartment door behind her, you’re all over each other again. Your hands find her hips and grip them tight enough to bruise as you push her towards the bedroom, your lips leaving a trail of sloppy, passionate kisses along the underside of her jaw. You wait until the backs of her knees have hit the bed, then give her a little shove - she lands on her back, looking up at you with hooded eyes and a flushed, heaving chest.

You climb on top of her, straddle her, run your hands up the sides of her clothed torso. She shivers, reaches out to grasp your hips, squeezes them. Her pupils dilate as her eyes roam your body, admiring your silhouette beneath your tight athletic wear. Her fingers twitch - you can tell that she’s eager to get you out of your restrictive clothing but she knows you’re in charge, so she doesn’t dare make the first move.

“You’re so beautiful,” you hum quietly as your hands slide beneath Miranda’s t-shirt, pushing it upwards. She blushes crimson at the sincerity of the compliment and sits up just enough to allow you to pull the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. Her breathing goes shallow as you toy with the wide straps of the sports bra she’s wearing - you snap one of them against her shoulder and she winces, more so out of surprise than pain. You smirk. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” you whisper, bringing your lips to Miranda’s ear and letting your warm breath wash over the side of her neck. Goosebumps form a little trail on her sensitive skin and Miranda nods fervently, her breath catching audibly in her throat. You chuckle condescendingly.

“Good girls use their words, love,” you husk, nipping at Miranda’s earlobe and drawing a shuddering gasp from her chest, her body tensing beneath you. It takes her a moment, but finally Miranda finds her voice and breathes out a soft “yes” that makes your smirk widen.

“Yes, what?” You pull away far enough to look her in the eyes, only to see that hers are squeezed shut. “Look at me,” you command, waiting for Miranda to open her eyes, pleased with the wideness of her inky black pupils. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I-I’ll be a good girl for you,” Miranda whispers in one breath, her eyes darting hungrily between your own.

“Good.” You run your fingers through her hair, gently scratching her scalp, then suddenly ball your hand into a fist and tug her head back by the hair, baring her neck to you so that you can nip and suck at her pulse point, creating a deep red mark that was sure to bruise. 

Releasing her hair, you start to kiss your way down Miranda’s chest, ridding her of her sports bra with ease so that you can lavish small, supple breasts with kisses. You trace the tip of your tongue around her right nipple, your eyes open so that you can watch each little goosebump erupt in real time. You switch to her left nipple and bestow upon it the same rapt attention, sucking it eagerly between your lips and moaning when Miranda’s hands begin to claw at the fabric of your leggings, when her back arches and pushes her chest against your face.

“God, you’re fucking eager today…” you mumble as your lips nuzzle the skin of her stomach. You inhale deeply through your nose, breathing her in; the mixture of sweat and soap and those base notes that cling to her skin as part of her natural scent. You can’t help but to litter her chest and stomach with bruises - then pull her leggings down and give her inner thighs the same treatment, just so there’s no question who she belongs to.

Pulling down her pants releases the scent of her musk and reveals to you the dark, wet patch at the center of her underwear, and you feel your stomach flip and your own underwear grow uncomfortably wet.

“Such a good girl, letting me mark you like this…” you whisper against her inner thigh, just before you bite down and cause Miranda to cry out, her hands flying to your hair to steady herself.

“P-please,” she gasps out as you soothe your tongue over the bite marks you’ve just left.

“Please what, baby? You want to be fucked?”

Miranda nods fervently, and you smirk against her skin - her thigh twitches against your mouth.

“I think I want to take my time today…” you hum casually, letting your breath ghost over her panties - placing a soft, barely-there kiss to her clothed clit before licking at the seam of her crotch. Miranda whimpers. Tugs at your hair. Rolls her hips against the air. You nuzzle your nose against the wet patch on her underwear, and she gasps, arching her back off the bed, then sinking back down. Tensing and untensing in anticipation.

Once you’ve finally decided that she’s had enough, you hook your fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear and pull it down her legs. You kiss your way back up her legs, starting at her ankles, switching sides, tracing your tongue up her toned calves, licking the back of her knee - she’s ticklish, she squirms - nipping her inner thighs, before finally reaching her cunt and, with gentle kitten licks, lapping up the arousal that’s already dripping out of her and running into the crack of her ass. 

“Mmh… fuck, you taste so damn good…” Your tongue gets more eager, parting her folds and circling her clit, and your pleased moans vibrate against the throbbing bud and send shockwaves through Miranda’s body, to which she responds with moans of her own, loud and unabashed.

You can tell she’s getting close by the way her thighs are trembling against your ears, their hold on your head tightening, her knuckles white against the sheets that she’s holding onto for dear life. You stop just shy of sending her over the edge, your lips leaving her clit in favor of ravishing her blonde curl-covered mound with kisses, and your ears are met with a deep whine as Miranda’s hips buck against you, to no avail.

“What do you need, baby? Hmm?” you husk as you slowly kiss your way back up Miranda’s stomach, between her breasts, well aware that her orgasm is starting to retreat again. You grab one of her breasts, the soft flesh filling up the palm of your hand, and bring your lips to her opposite nipple to kiss it chastely. “Your tits feel amazing…”

Miranda moans again, though it has a whiny, disgruntled edge. “Fuck… please…”

She’s starting to get impatient, her hands leaving the sheets and finding your shirt, clawing at it, trying to push it over your head, and you immediately sit up and scoot back, moving just out of reach and looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Turn around.”

Miranda doesn’t respond right away, staring up at you with wide eyes, her chest heaving and splotched with red, her hair stuck to her forehead as a bead of sweat races down her temple. You stand and grab her hips, giving her a push and flipping her onto her stomach. 

“Ass in the air.”

Miranda complies immediately, shuffling a bit on the bed so that she can bend her knees and bare her ass to you, a fresh wave of arousal glistening between her folds that are perfectly parted for you. Her ass is pale, soft, covered in goosebumps - you caress it tenderly, feeling the flesh beneath your palm, your fingertips. You raise your hand - pause for a moment - smack the right cheek. It jiggles a bit and, when you pull your hand away, there’s a faint red mark.

The harder you hit, the wetter Miranda gets, the louder, more pornographic her moans get, until you’re almost certain her neighbors have been able to commit the obscene sounds to memory.

“If only everyone at the station could see what a slut you are,” you say mockingly, soothing your hand over the pink flesh before drawing it back for another smack. Your words make Miranda’s eyes roll back in her head, her jaw going slack. 

The next spank makes her elbows buckle and she slips forward - you tug your own shirt and sports bra off, then lean over her so that your tits are pressed flush against her back. She shudders and your lips meet the back of her neck, kissing the sweat-slicked skin as your arm snakes around her torso, your fingers slipping through her drenched folds. You slide two fingers into her with ease, the heel of your hand pressing against her clit, and she rolls her hips eagerly, a cry of relief spilling from her lips at finally finding the friction she so desperately needs.

“I love seeing you like this,” you whisper against the back of Miranda’s neck, your own breathing heavy and stuttering. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

Miranda trembles against you, her hips bucking erratically as she chases her orgasm. As you pump your fingers in and out of her in a steady rhythm, you slowly ease in a third finger - her walls stretch around you, her breath stutters audibly, she whimpers a little.

“Shh…” You nuzzle your nose against the nape of her neck. “Tell me if it’s too much… but I think you can take it…”

Miranda’s thrusts resume their previous rhythm and it becomes clear she doesn’t mind the third finger - in fact, it sends her over the edge moments later, her whole body shuddering and tensing against you, her hips bucking, quivering, a long, deep moan vibrating through the air and drowning out your praises of “good girl” and “that’s it” until her body goes limp against you. 

Her knees give out and you hold her up, lowering her carefully and steadily onto her stomach, then rolling off of her. You scoot up the bed so that you’re resting against the pillows and urge Miranda to join you, winding your arms around her, pulling her cheek against your chest, kissing the crown of her head.

“You did so well for me,” you coo against the top of her head, carding your fingers through her hair. “Thank you for trusting me…” 

You hold her in your arms and brush a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead, kissing it. She curls into you, feeling so small in your arms and looking so content. She smiles and buries her face in your chest with a tired but happy hum. She thanks you and presses her lips to your chest and you chuckle and tighten your grip on her, your heart swelling with affection as you whisper, “I love you, Mir. Let me draw you a bath.” 

Your words are met with a discontented hum and she curls further into you as you chuckle at her reaction. “Can we stay here a few more minutes?” she mumbles - you nod softly and wiggle your hips a bit to get more comfortable on the bed.

“Whatever you want, love.”

Miranda smiles and traces her hand over your hips, giving the waistband of your leggings a meek tug, then clawing weakly at the fabric bunched over your hips. You raise an eyebrow and look down to see a tired half-smirk playing upon Miranda’s lips, and you chuckle and shake your head in amusement. “Whatever you want…”

x

taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandbrienneslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @wh0s-vesper @lvinhs @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @ilovetlcc @wastdstime @ladylarissaweems @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @sapphicbee223

[jweekgoji]

[BW] Yandere!Dinobot/Reader [hcs/thoughts]

tw/tags: heat cycle, yandere themes, mentions of stalking, jealousy, possessiveness, a tinyy bit suggestive. word count: ~700 a/n: born to obsess over underrated characters forced to yap about the popular one (but I'm joking, I love them all, I'm just sad that Beast Wars is not talked about as much as other shows).

some quick thoughts in between requests because if I don't express it now, i will forget about it.

okay hear me out on...yandere Dinobot. I know Beast Wars is not really popular in the fandom, but oh my god, this ugly handsome man

we all saw that maximals/predacons share those animalistic traits that are connected to their beast modes. Rattrap likes to chew on scrap, Cheetor acts like a cat and even meows, Tigatron considers white tigers as some kind of family; Tarantulas and Blackarachnia have that rivalry for obvious reasons (bad for him).

it would be funny if they also had some type of cybertronian heat cycles.

even though Dinobot is heavily influenced by Jurassic Park velociraptors, I still feel like he'd act like a big bird rather than a lizard. or something in between, of course.

Yandere!Dinobot is overprotective and snappy as hell, to the point he considers even other maximals as a potential danger to you. Unlike more rational bots, Dinobot has no shame at all. It would cost him an arm and a leg to admit it to you, but he's actually jealous. Of what? There's no need to find any reason to explain his behavior once the season starts.

Yandere!Dinobot is vocal; he will growl, hiss and snap his teeth at anyone who tries to approach his mate. All maximals know that it's not the time to come near the two of you, but the unrespectful predacons...I'm a sucker for duos, their possibilities, and to imagine the dynamic between Megatron/Dinobot, both trying to court the poor reader.

But once the two of you are alone, I can see him having those rare moments where Dinobot lets himself relax. Most of the time he's in a constant state of alert, the dangerous mix of his primal instincts and  that warrior code of his just tells him to take you somewhere far-far away, so no maximal or predacon will get you. So maybe he can rest just for a little with you next to him. Dinobot definitely makes soft purrs, even to his own surprise.

Yandere!Dinobot is a stalker. Maybe, when it's just the start of the relationship between the two of you, he will try to somehow justify it, at least. Like, “I am just testing your skills, a true warrior must be always alert. You don't know when the predacons attack you next” , but the more you grow closer to him, the more he lets himself be a tiny bit warmer to you “You should not wander off alone. Stick closer to me”.

Read it, and don't forget a little personal nickname he has for you, which he adds at the end of the sentence.

It will also be funny to imagine Dinobot being a little too invested in building a nest. It also gets more awkward if your beast mode is some far different species. Why would he need to collect your stuff from your room? And why is he so adamant about you always staying in his room? He is holding you so tightly that you practically have no chance but to stay. So clueless!

“Is that [...] from my quarters?”

“Just be quiet and start recharging, you irresistible fool!”

Dinobot himself is a little embarrassed too if you start asking too many questions. He doesn't like being all vulnerable, even though he trusts you very much to know that you will never make fun of him. His own mind is clouded with not so innocent thoughts, and it actually becomes a big problem when he tries to focus on his training or fighting.

I don't think Dinobot would try to attract you with those silly dances reptiles/birds do to impress their mates, but when he is in his beast mode, you can definitely notice his tail wagging just a little bit when you're around. Rattrap probably picks on it faster than you and teases Dinobot about it until the two start fighting again.

[wholelottaprompts]

ᡣ𐭩 Emails I Can't Send Prompts ᡣ𐭩

from the album Emails I Can't Send, by Sabrina Carpenter

"And I still make excuses for you constantly."

"Sorry that I pulled the 'it's not you, it's me.'"

"You're not my friend, and baby, you never were."

"It's times like these I wish I had a time machine."

"Whatever, you're a waste of time."

“Oh, so you do have a type."

"Where else can we go?"

"I hate the way you left me dry."

"Give me a second to forget I ever really meant it."

"Don't say sorry now."

"One day, I'll make sure you get a real apology."

"I tried to look for the best in the worst."

"Oh, so you can reply."

"I'm so tired."

"You want me? I'm done."

"I wonder how many things you think about before you get to me."

"You're lucky I'm a private person."

"I'm over that son of a bitch."

"Don't make me cuss you out."

"You're so vicious."

"Nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks I'm fucking rude."

"Why were you somewhere else when you were next to me?"

"I can't help it, it's a habit."

"You act like a bitch."

"I never saw him and we never kissed."

"There's nothing left here to decode."

"Were you lying to me and the family?"

"If you wanted brown eyes, I could have got contacts."

"You don't feel remorse."

"That never made too much sense to me."

"I can't read your mind."

"Why'd you let me down?"

"You knew I would see that."

"Looking at you got me thinking nonsense."

"Bet you wanna love me now."

"How do you do this to me?"

"Tell me what's gonna happen."

"You knew I would notice."

"I'll drive you home."

"I don't even know, I'm talking nonsense."

"I want you there sometimes."

"She looks nothing like me."

"Your signals are mixed."

"Everything reminds me of you."

"I know you know it keeps me up."

"You drive me crazy."

"Chase me."

"Did you even give a fuck?"

"You disgust me."

"Now I'm a homewrecker. I'm a slut."

"Tell me I was more than just a decent opportunity."

"Why do you look so happy?"

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thanks to you, I can't love right."

"I know now even if I tried to change that somehow, you'd end up with her anyway."

"You fit every stereotype."

"Does she step out of the spotlight so you bathe in it?"

"Now I can't even look at you."

"You said I'm too late to be your first love, but I'll always be your favorite."

"I know what you're about to say."

"Does she get up on top of you more than I would?"

"He had it coming."

"I deserve my own consideration."

"I look up from my phone and think there's no chance it's you, but it is."

"He's good for my heart, but he's bad for business."

"I've got death threats filling up semi trucks."

"How am I supposed to close the door when I still need the closure?"

"All my friends think I've gone crazy."

"I care, but I don't."

"Please fucking fix this."

"Tell me that you miss me in your life."

"It feels so good not caring where you are tonight."

"You were all I looked up to."

"Was I being lied to?"

"I got ways to find you anywhere."

"You miss me? No duh."

"Maybe we should do this on purpose sometime."

"It was all so innocent."

"What the fuck is patience?"

"I can't even stomach loving someone else."

"God, I love you, but you're such a dipshit."

"You're good at impersonating someone who cares."

"I bet your house is where my other sock is."

[merv606]

Any thoughts on Terry being truly scared that he could have lost Daniel (supposing that Daniel was stabbed instead) and he goes to the hospital while Daniel recovers. Danny is surprised at how…soft and gentle Terry is with him, treating him like glass, and realizes that Terry was terrified of losing him.

I’ll try to answer this without having the fill by @thereminwriting influence me too much but I am going to take the idea of Terry being the one who saved him because it adds another layer of 🌶️ to the whole fucked up situation. There may be some overlap with Mercy but, with Silverusso there always is, as the themes with them are always the same.

Link below for her take - a suggestion to read it as it’s brilliant! It will live rent free.

What this ask inspired, while I feel hits some points made in the ask it may ultimately fail to hit the mark for exactly what you were looking for.

“You think you’d be grateful, is all,” Terry says, picking at some imaginary lint on the bed, which is not there. They both know that. The place is pristine, more high end hotel than hospital. The thread count on the bedsheets has to be higher than what he has at home, and he is an admitted snob when it comes to his night time comforts.

“Gratitude?” Daniel says slowly, like he’s both processing what Terry said and also surprised he’d even say it.

If it wasn’t for the dull ache in his side, the way he can feel the stitches and staples pull when he moves he’d do something stupid. As it were though.

“Gratitude, gratitude,” his voice rising, and then suddenly Daniel just deflates, that little bit of anger burning through the little energy he has built up.

That scared Terry more than anything. His boy’s fire was always so bright, so warm to bask in, so strong and big, despite the small frame it lived inside. That was why it came out so often, too big for it’s confines, never truly able to be contained at all times.

A fire that drew Terry to it like a moth to a flame, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it’s seductive allure. Helpless in the knowledge that like the moth stunned and destroyed by the light it sought, he too would die by it’s heat.

He could’ve think of a better way to go though.

Softly, “it’s just another cage, Terry.”

“Never pegged you as the religious type,” Terry says after a few long moments.

He’s not, not really. He goes through the rituals of it - mass on Christmas Eve - stopping only when his kids got older and Amanda admitted she was only going for him, and he had to admit he really didn’t know why he did, except that he did when he was a kid.

Daniel looks at the keychain’s pendant in his hand, the keychain having been ripped off and stretched to pick the lock of the cage, and he hadn’t even realized, at the time when he bought it what it was, he had simply handed the kid over some money.

He only kept it because he considered it a lucky charm of sorts considering, what it saved him from - that belief was cemented by the fact it was in the pockets of the leggings he wore under his GI when this happened.

A coincidence, he’s sure, but still, he thinks he needs all the help he can get. He’s probably in the most danger right now, after all.

It had been placed on the bedside table, and it was one of the first things he saw when he woke, and when he groggily reached for it, Terry had stilled him, telling him not to move, placing it the palm of his hand.

Here now, he turns it over in his hand.

Even you can’t save me now, Daniel thinks.

Sitting in a hospital paid for by Terry - his life forfeit it wasn’t for Terry.

His life forfeit all the same.

All the same.

More like delayed, all things considered.

Because now he owes Terry.

He owes Terry a debt he cannot possibly repay.

He wonders how Terry will try to collect; what he stands to gain.

“I must say, I was surprised to learn of your skills.”

“I’m from jersey,” Daniel answers absently. “Of course I know how to pick locks.”

Terry chuckles but then the doctor comes in and like always, Daniel is not made privy to the decisions. Everything in Terry’s hands which, as much as he hates that, they have proved to be quite capable.

He’s alive because of them.

——————————

When a few weeks have passed, he finally gathers the courage to watch the video, and for the first time he sees Terry, how he was saved, how calm Terry was, how efficient, how …. Not what Daniel expected.

He doesn’t know what to feel, not only about watching himself get hurt but about Terry. The feed had cut rather quickly all the same. He doesn’t know why, but he hits replay.

Terry comes in, and freezes, grabbing the tablet from Daniel, shattering it against the wall. A nurse rushes in, and Terry barks something to her as he strides out, and after she cleans the mess, she injects something into his IV bag. He doesn’t bother asking, they never tell him.

Terry finally reappears as the drugs settle through him. Daniel can feel them as they move through his blood, dulling everything further, the pain never truly gone, leaving behind heavy limbs and bad coordination, but a sense of peace even as he feels the bed dip and Terry’s side press flush to his. Daniel goes slack against the older man, his weight fully pressed against him until Terry is the very thing holding him up.

Terry puts Daniel’s hand in his, the only apology he’ll get for the outburst, the thumb rubbing the skin.

“My team will have it removed,” Terry explains, like they do anytime a new one pops up, and although Terry knows he can’t get rid of it entirely, it helps. Having something he can control.

Daniel, after all, makes him feel so out of control.

Daniel, after all, had never made him feel so scared.

All the blood that was already arising the Matt by the time Terry got to him, and it had only taken moments.

The knife - Kreese’s knife - embedded deep - and the white of Daniel’s skin as more blood appeared, watching life drain out of him right before his eyes.

Something that only hit Terry after. Terry only allowing it to hit him after, needing to, in that moment, focus on saving Daniel.

Not willing to accept anything else.

You can lose something you never really had.

But Daniel will be now. Something he has. Finally. And Terry will be damned if he’ll lose it.

———————————

“I can’t believe you put me in a dog cage,” Daniel grumbles as he eats his steak and buttered lobster.

Well he can, but a part of him can’t - won’t - examine it too closely. The same coping mechanism he’s been using when it comes to Terry for thirty years now. It mostly proves successful,

“Danny,” he starts.

“Thought that would, what? Make me submit? Like before.”

A deep sigh, and really Terry has no right sound that put upon.

He wasn’t the one locked in a dog cage.

“Of course you would see it like that.” Both exasperated yet fond.

“How should I see it?!”

At first you would think humiliation, and Terry’s attempt to install fear in Daniel - the same fear Terry felt but, that wasn’t it - not at all.

Nothing could be further for the truth.

It was protection.

Cages keep things in, but they also keep them out.

They keep things safe.

They keep them from leaving.

He actually hadn’t wanted Daniel to wake up until reaching the desired destination.

“I fear cages,” Terry starts but stops, not sure what to say, off kilter in a way only Daniel manages to do to him.

“Why do you fear cages?”

The story pours out, and Daniel sits, stunned.

He had no idea. At all.

Terry’s loyalty to Kreese makes so much sense now. As does their falling out. Which has hardened into hate since the accident.

Part of Terry blames Kreese.

It was his knife after all.

“He always tries to destroy the good things in my life.”

It not only makes sense but Daniel realizes, with a clarity he wouldn’t before, as he too carries that same burden now. Carries the same mixed feelings about being indebted to someone you do not wish to be indebted to.

An understanding, a part of him connected to Terry.

A part of himself that will never belong to him again.

———————————-

He protested in the beginning, Terry helping him change, but now he doesn’t; there would be no point.

He winces, the scar twisting, so new it’s still more deep purple, the skin too tight from where he was sewed and stitched back together.

Terry frowns, his hand touching it, and Daniel flinches; he can’t help it. Even he doesn’t even like touching it himself

It feels wrong - foreign. It feels like a change he didn’t want but will have no choice but to accept.

Isn’t that Terry whoever he comes into Daniel’s life.

It feels like the situation he finds himself in.

It looks ugly, even if he knows in time it will fade to pink and then further still until it’s faded to the point that it nearly matches his skin

He knows he should be grateful to be alive, to be here, even if here is with Terry.

He knows all of this but still, he will carry a piece of this always.

He carrie enough of Terry around with him - he has for thirty years.

The older man’s fingers are so damm gentle as they trace the new skin forming, solidifying into something permanent.

Everything about Terry has been so damm gentle.

All his touches, all the looks directed at Daniel, even when Terry thinks Daniel isn’t paying attention.

Terry helps him into his shirt.

————————————-

“Why?” Daniel asks when he finally gathers the courage. The thing that took him the longest to do.

“I wasn’t about to let you die, Daniel,” Terry nearly scoffs. “I’m not that much of ….”

“I know,” Daniel interrupts.

And he does. Truly. Terry is a Bond villain, and like all Bond villains, he lives to monologue and come up with elaborate plots, plots he knows, deep down, won’t work.

Just like they know Bond will walk away each time, that they want him to, so does Terry.

Because If you really want someone gone, it’s not hard. Simple is best.

If you truly want to win, that is.

But the winning isn’t the point. The end isn’t the point, because it’s not even a journey.

It’s a game, and it’s the fun in playing the game.

But when you take out the opponent, and you win the game, oh how you stop having fun.

Because the opponent was what you actually wanted all along, this game, was the only way to get that.

Something almost ruined this ages old ritual, something the villain hadn’t planned himself, hadn’t even accounted for.

“Why all this?” Daniel gestures around. It certainly is above and beyond. Putting aside the part Daniel can never hope to possibly repay, can’t even begin to, the money alone Terry has spent is astronomical, and shows no signs of stopping. The money Terry has assured Daniel he does not want, nor does he seem to even care about.

They stare at each other.

“I think you know,” is all Terry says, and it’s not cryptic, not at all.

Because Daniel thinks he does too.

Daniel thinks, he always did.

—————-

The plastic surgeon is flown in.

Daniel is fine with the scar.

It’s Terry that hates it.

It reminds him of too much.

The overwhelming fear in the days after, the unbridled anger at it even happening. Something Terry has been felt before.

How he had failed.

How he had almost lost something, that while never was his, was something he had never wanted more.

How he would have lost everything all the same, had Daniel not pulled through.

No.

No part of his boy is to be reminded of this.

No part of him will be marked by any man but Terry.

If his body is to change now, to open and accept anything inside, to be split open, to bleed, it will be by Terry’s doing.

And it will be by pleasure and not pain.

——————————————

The night he wakes to Terry sitting in the side of the hospital bed, everything dark expect for the light of the moon filtering in through the near floor to ceiling windows, is the night he really sees.

The older man’s back is to him, and although everything is silent, eerily so, he can tell Terry is crying.

Daniel sits up, hand holding onto his side, where he thinks it will always twinge slightly, although it’s more a habit now than a need, and the fact that Terry doesn’t turn to him, doesn’t hone in on the fact he’s awake and moving adds to the wrongness of this whole thing.

He gently and slowly lays a hand on the older man’s shoulder, not wanting to spoke him, he’s clearly out of it, and in an even softer tone, the ones he’d use on his kids when they were younger and upset, he asked, “Terry?”

Daniel expects the older man to get up, leave, but instead a large hand comes up and covers him.

They say nothing, but then Terry’s hand squeezes his, and in a broken voice finally speaks.

“I could have lost you.”

Terry made a mistake.

A mistake he can’t fix. - not now. Because he’s in too deep, because he loves Daniel.

And this, this was never the plan, all those years ago. To fall for the boy …. to fall again for the man the boy became.

Because when you love something, you now have something that can destroy you.

Destroy you without even meaning too.

Daniel would have destroyed him, without even trying.

Destroyed Terry in away that he would not have been able to rebuild himself from.

Even a phoenix eventually loses its will to rise again.

A world with Daniel is not one Terry wishes to be in. He tried, for thirty years, and it was no life at all. It certainly wasn’t living.

He got it back though, that feeling of being alive, but oh, what he traded for it. Because now he has this fear, heavy on his chest.

This fear of losing something you cannot replace.

When he looks down, sometimes he can still see the blood on his hands.

“You didn’t though.”

Daniel kneels, his chest to Terry’s back, his head on his shoulder, thin arms wrapped around the older man.

“You saved me.”

He had.

Terry had battled death with his bare hands for Daniel and won. But one day, one day …..

“We saved each other,” is all Terry says, focusing on that to stave off the panic.

“Let’s focus on that,” Daniel says, nuzzling his cheek into his shoulder. Terry can feel the warmth of his breaths gaunt his neck.

Plastered against his back, Daniel moves with Terry almost, to the feel the rise and fall of Terry’s breathing. Terry can feel the beat of Daniel’s heart, they’re pressed so tight.

Concentrating on that. On the moment. On what he can control in the here and now.

The dread subsides, for now, even if Terry knows it has simply retreated.

The moonlight shines down on them, this moment in time, and they stay like that until the sun chases it away, illuminating the sins instead.

———————-

“Oh god,” a breathy little moan, as Terry’s cock slides home, opening Daniel to him.

Four fingers, four of Terry’s thick fingers, and his mouth, had put the time in to get Daniel here like this, body open enough to accept the older man inside him; to accept his love.

Like a virgin on a mound, about to be offered up as sacrifice, this is how he will repay Terry.

Daniel arches up, legs squeezing tighter to the older man’s sides as his eyes squeeze shut, blunt fingernails drawing down a broad pale back.

They’ll both bleed for this tonight.

They’ll always bleed for each other.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Terry groans, and Daniel kisses him, only because he can’t handle much more.

He can’t handle Terry here inside him like this - how good it feels - how right it feels - and hear the raw truth in Terry’s voice.

He can’t.

His body is already the temple Terry is about to worship at - to ruin and rebuild - his body the vessel for this offering of his.

He knows his heart and soul will follow suit. If he was being honest with himself, something he seldom is, they already have.

The older man will accept nothing else. Daniel finds he wants nothing else.

Hands roaming, touching warm sweat slick skin, sharing the air moving between them.

The older man so damn gentle as he keeps sliding in.

Daniel finding within himself, to somehow open more and more, until Terry’s cock is all the way in, both men joined as one.

Terry carving a spot for himself that only he will be able to fill.

Hips snapping in, the wet noises of their coupling, the pin pricks of pleasure when the older man’s cock brushes his prostate, the sharp grin, like a shark sensing blood in the water as Terry concentrates on hitting that spot.

Hands pins above his head, Daniel opening his eyes at the older man’s command, Terry staring down.

���I love you. So much, Danny. So damm much,” he groans, rocking in, burying his face into the smaller man’s neck.

The slapping noise of skin on skin as he’s taken, as Terry chases his release, both of their releases, in each other.

Hands grab slim hips, feeling the bone under his palm, fingers digging in, greedy and covetous, but Daniel can feel the love even if he can also feel the bruises it is leaving.

Love with teeth, it suits them.

Always did.

And a love that leaves marks from those teeth, stained red with blood.

A love that is visible - a mixture of pleasure and pain, sometimes in equal measure.

That is them.

“Oh,” he sobs out as he comes in the space between them, not even a hand on his cock needed.

The clenching of his body, already a tight and perfect fit around Terry’s cock, is the older man’s undoing, and his hand grasps the smaller man’s side, covering the now barely visible scar, as empties himself inside the smaller body.

Daniel’s legs fall off his sides, splayed open obscenely as Terry fills and fills and fills him. He moans softly at the sensation of Terry’s come inside him, which doesn’t seem to be stopping, the warming blooming through him as his hips keep gently fucking in, making sure it’s as deep as it can go, making sure Daniel is even more full than he thought possible.

Finally finished, Terry collapses on top of Daniel, careful as he does though. He’s always careful with his boy, even if sometimes it’s his own personal brand of it.

He doesn’t bother to pull out, loathe to leave Daniel’s body until he absolutely has to, even if he is eager to see the mess he’s left his boy in.

There is always later for that.

They have that luxury of later now.

Who would have thought that here, of all places, a second, third, and fourth chance.

Terry’s lost count.

As many as they need to get it right.

Terry will see to that.

[kukuandkookie]

HSNGMSJDK I have mixed feelings on this… 🤔

To start off, I admittedly didn’t vibe with Beloved Enemy that much either. If I were to briefly get a bit more into my own personal tastes here, it might be surprising to people who know me that I didn’t like Yuan Yang as much, because he’s dog-coded (wolf-dog) and usually that’s a character type I gravitate towards.

But there were a couple reasons for this:

The first is that Yuan Yang’s crematorium didn’t personally satisfy me because I prefer the ones with full-on regret and sobbing and all that good stuff (I have learned of myself that I enjoy regret as a theme when done well MSKSFKHS). But Yuan Yang actually went for…an asshole route??? Which didn’t exactly work well in my opinion.

I feel like that’s maybe why I prefer Yu Fengcheng despite him not being all that dog-coded. He takes the badass top and even military man “bad boy”—or at least, hooligan/sexual deviant—and does it better in terms of loyalty and eventual regret. Plus, I like his occasionally nurturing role but also how his stoicness makes his moments where he acts cute all the more memorable (kind of like how it also is with Li Yu). He’s not that popular in the overall 188男团 fandom but I actually have a lot of things I like about Yu Fengcheng—even though I know the whole “conflict” over Huo Qiao is a bit weird and weak HSMKFSHS.

(And yeah, when speaking realistically, a lot of what Yuan Yang does is very despicable. Although it didn’t quite affect me the way it may have for OP.)

But the main thing is that Beloved Enemy itself is…quite cliché, in my opinion?

Office workers and then the top being gruff and aggressive and possessive and a “bad boy” aren’t anything new, and when I read the kidnapping plot, even though I know that and the ICU are kind of staples of the 188男团, I still went, “Ah, this feels a bit forced…” (I also felt the same way about a slightly similar scene in My Little Poplar, but a bit less so because it contributed to some of the themes you can glean from the novel in a way I didn’t feel like Beloved Enemy’s kidnapping plot does).

So funnily enough, Beloved Enemy is a story I actually think is better consumed via the manhua???

I love manhua as a medium but I fully admit, a lot of the manhua that directly adapt a novel can lose some stuff in translation, mostly in terms of expressing thoughts—especially when they’re rushing to adapt every important novel scene. But the Beloved Enemy manhua, aka Tit-for-Tat, softens Yuan Yang a lot by really upping his puppy dog side, with chibis and facial expressions and stuff. And the artist translates characters’ thoughts into the visual medium quite well!

I can actually see how Yuan Yang and Gu Qingpei are falling for each other and into each other more than I felt it in the novel itself.

It’s thus not a surprise to me the manhua artist is a huge YuanGu lover—you can see the passion in their adaptation DKGNSKSJ. I am still kind of dreading the actual crematorium part, which we’re nearing, but I have hopes the manhua artist will continue to soften him via the more expressive nature of art.

And well, speaking of a visual adaptation…

The other reason I have my reservations about this is just kind of mixed feelings about some of the out-of-country adaptations in general??

This is a personal thing because I have a frustration at BL drama fans calling Chinese BL cdramas “bromance” due to the censorship when the intent is so clearly BL, so even when I like getting an uncensored adaptation, I do find some people’s disregard for Chinese media being Chinese in origin a bit frustrating. Like how when you’re a fan of the adaptation (whether it’s Thai, Taiwanese, or maybe even a game/donghua getting a dub), people don’t think about the original.

Another for live-action adaptations is just that I prefer animated/drawn, and I’d honestly be way more into getting an audio drama than a live-action drama (still rolling, screaming, dreaming for an official My Little Poplar audio drama…). 😆

Again, these are completely personal gripes though LGNSKDJS.

I do find it interesting to hear again and again about how My Stand-In disappointed actual Professional Body Double fans because of the sanitization, but also that gap between the drama fans and the novel fans where novel fans notice drama fans condemning parts of the show as toxic even though it was toned down.

If I were to go into a tangent here, I don’t believe characters and plots doing bad/dark things is automatically “problematic” or a sign the author condones it and I wish people wouldn’t just judge characters via “did I like them/did they annoy me/did they do a bad thing,” but that’s a completely separate topic. Still, it does show how people just can’t handle “darker” stuff without finding it condemnable.

So…yeah idk how that’ll go with Beloved Enemy ALFJSKFHS.

I can kind of get why they chose this for adaptation though. It may have its clichés, but hey, clichés are popular for a reason, and YuanGu are really popular. I could see most BL fans enjoying it because even if the toxicity will get criticism, some people seem really drawn to office workers and a young bad boy topping an older cunning man?

I do find it interesting though one YuanGu fan on Twitter had reservations because they felt like Beloved Enemy is really culturally Chinese and that could get lost in translation… Which I feel like could apply to a number of danmei, but also I guess it shows how mixed feelings about this drama seem to apply overall in both fans and non-fans of Beloved Enemy?? 😆

Anyway, sorry for hijacking your post, OP, especially when our thoughts may diverge on some aspects. This just got me thinking, and when I do thinking in such a way, I tend to ramble to try and express those thoughts. 🙈

I will say that seeing Zhao Jinxin get adapted could be so fun! He can indeed be quite cute~

Thoughts on Beloved Enemy Getting a Thai Adaptation

Originally this was a response to another post but I think it deserves its own. To be honest I'm not confident about this project at all. This is (imo) not one of SQC's strongest works and is really really really not fitting for today's BL audience. To demonstrate what I mean, here's an alignment chart of 8 of the (current) eleven gongs/tops in the 188 series (courtesy of a moot of mine on X, link to the original thread in the description).

Ming is the guy highlighted in purple. Look at how high he is situated relative to the other guys (and this is his novel counterpart btw). Now I love (most of) my 188 blorbos so it is with true affection that I say Ming really is pretty mild for 188 standards but I remember everyone losing their collective shit over Ming and he was already sanitised in the show. Basically 99% of you can't handle Yuan Yang (or whatever his name will be in Thai). It's not even just the non-con. I'm not sure how familiar people are with the original plot of the Beloved Enemy novel but without spoiling too much, the main conflict is so vile that even I, a resident toxic yaoi enjoyer, was traumatised by it. The moot who made the chart even explained that they added the 人渣 scale specifically because of Yuan Yang. Is he uniquely bad, no, not really actually. He's just really bad in a boring basic way that I lost interest and couldn't even stand to read the extras.

Seriously, why THIS particular IP (I know why, it's for money) when Winner Takes All is right there. Look at him, Zhao Jinxin is the cutest red flag, he's not even a red flag, he's a pink flag. He will gaslight you, he gaslit me, he's the gaslighting king (actually no, that's probably Luo Yi or Shao Qun but Jinxin actually won me over so really who wins).

[worshipping-cheesus-christ]

Tumblr. I am not autistic. I AM NOT AUTSITC HOW MANY TIMES DO I AHVE TO SOECIFY THIS

THE SYMPTOMS DONT COUNT BECAUSE I SAID SO

IM NOT AUTISTIC IM NOT AUTISTIC IM NOT AUTISTIC IM NOT AUTISTIC

I’m also taking this too seriously

sorry :1

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[longagoitwastuesday]

*reading a thesis about the evolution of the concept of infinity in China with a large amount of tabs open with diverse articles or word combinations to further look for information, all the while seething, blood boiling* I wish Satoru Gojo would fucking cease to exist

[thedevotionaltour]

thinking about daredevil yellow again im not. going to make it Guys.

[leatherbookmark]

an interesting thing abt jgy antis is like. where is the source of their, shall we say, negative opinion of jgy? like, 1. jgy is a villain, he does horrible things with no remorse, he’s willing to do everything to achieve his selfish, egotistical goals. --> 2. the source of this claim: this, this and this scene. --> 3. alright, but to me -- says someone who’s not an anti -- this reads differently. that he did all those things, and did them on purpose and without remorse, is not that obvious to me. why do you think that? --> 4. well, obviously because he’s a villain and does horrible things with no remorse.

like... he’s evil because he does bad things, and he does bad things because he’s evil. i’m interested in how antis came by those opinions, but a, unfortunately i have them all blocked, and b, even if i or someone else made a poll, it wouldn’t be authentic because no sane anti is going to say “well, people hated him and wrote all those things about him on twt, so i started hating him as well”, or “i only care about wgxn, you could sell me anything about other characters if your arguments were convincing enough because i zoned out during the parts when wgxn weren’t on screen/pages of the book”. it’s all “written in the book/shown in the show” and “logical arguments you’d agree with if only you could read”.

[onyourstageleft]

smoked a blunt last night and spent a half hour writing out this 'poll' in a note on my phone

[astrxealis]

I ADORE GEN INFORMATION AND HISTORY STUFF SOOO MUCH ... and etc etc etc and and and :(( <3 god i love the plethora of information ik and. etc.

[cherrysnax]

not to SYS! on main but like comics Miguel reads just like Robyn and older leo to me it’s soooo weird

[fingertipsmp3]

Someone talk me out of quitting my job lol

[david-watts]

been seeing a few posts from various people about reading habits and actually. my opinion is if something gets you to read then it’s better than nothing at all. fanfiction? cool. stuff you read in middle school? cool. classics? cool. super serious adult fiction? cool. ya? cool. biographies? cool. guinness world records? cool. so long as you’re able to comprehend and process the works and critically think about what’s presented then who cares