#absolutely ludicrous to me

[k1tty5]

started the year by rewatching secret life 🎉

[fuunsaiki]

what she says: i'm fine

what she means: the division clearly knew that the song now and then was important to rachel, and presumably they knew why and therefore just how much it meant to her, so instead of ignoring it they co-opted it into their mind control so that if it popped up in elly's life then she might know it meant something to her but she was supposed to just think 'oh, it's my song from my music box', however even vogler's best efforts - both as the head of psy ops and in her capacity as mother figure - couldn't completely erase the full depth of feeling that rachel has for aidan so no matter how much ruth encouraged elly to try dating, deep down she *knew* she wasn't single, and her song reminded her heart of that every time she heard it, even though her head had completely forgotten who aidan was

[nerdie-faerie]

I despise doing lab portfolios, what do you mean I need to include pictures of myself? In the lab? In my stupid little lab coat? I thought this was supposed to a serious assignment, there's a guy in it

[whosname]

OKAY OKAY I'll pay your stupid tax, fucking hell. Now, FREE MY MAN, IT'S BEEN LIKE A MONTH AND A HALF!!!!

[bibiana112]

There's nothing wrong with people having their dearest most specialest blorbo be Eric ztd it is unironically good for the ecosystem and I always love seeing the different perspectives from other fans but what I am here today to ask is why is no one like that about Mira. whatever happened to feminism.

[mariocki]

Nightbeast (1982)

"Listen, I've been thinking. I hate this idea of us running out of town when -"

"We're beaten, Jamie. Guns have no effect on that thing."

"Guns don't, I know that, but if we could hit that thing with twenty or thirty thousand volts of electricity we might be able to stop it!"

[mountmortar]

sometimes things suck but at least i live in a time period where you can get your entire college degree online

[whitehartlane]

something i’ve seen frequently in football circles especially with the rise of social media (where ppl engage with the sport in absolutely bizarre ways but that’s another topic for another day) is this longstanding obsession with ‘(winning) mentality.’ how is it quantified? how do you prove its existence? how consistent must it be for a club to acquire this ‘mentality?’ it’s just bonkers to me because you’d assume that every club and every fanbase would want to win, just some a) have better resources to do so or b) some overperform/underperform as is the case with any sport which leads to drawing some kind of conclusions about this ‘mentality’ or c) some fanbases just have a better time rationalising a potential loss within the external factors which of course also leads to drawing conclusions about this ‘mentality.’ i guess my problem with it is just that it’s become such a buzzword where teams get either praised or insulted for their mentality when it’s so subjective and influenced by other factors too (doing well, doing badly, general trajectory of the club, personal satisfaction with individual achievements, media opinion, etc).

[louthestarspeaker]

if i can just get through this weekend without losing my mind in the flood of final projects i will be SO golden you guys lets goooo

I am like going into overdrive for real im gonna crash out so hard during finals week

it's crazy that as a writing major/ lit student finals week looks like a break compared to the week leading up to it, like i'm not worried about these tests i just gotta Write So Much Stuff before that.

anyway its past two am im just yapping. gonna finish one more assignment before i got to sleep XD

[midnightwind]

Favorite Sentence

this one is extremely tempting to me, so thank you @pixiedurango for tagging me, you do truly spoil me with these games~

it's turned more into "favorite section" than just sentence, but I'll plumb Clipped Wings (both published and in the works) and then... some older works I've written just for me and mine that haven't seen the light of day for various reasons ;; I'll do my best to provide context for those lol! and if I do have an absolute favorite outstanding line, I'll change the color to highlight it

this is.... very long, because I've been writing stories for as long as I've been alive pretty much! (I entered a book writing competition/celebration when I was in like, first grade lmao) so I'm going to slap it all under a read more. if you've liked my snippets and excerpts, then hopefully you enjoy my other work outside of fandom! Clipped Wings will be the first section though, if that's all you're interested in~ but you have been warned, it is Very, Very Long

Clipped Wings

Chapter 1: The Botched Job

She let out a little hum, her head lolling slightly. “Does that make me your Bianca right now, Vi?” He dropped her suddenly, letting her crash to the street like a sack of potatoes. It set her body on fire and she gasped despite herself. He brushed his hands off on his leathers like he had been touching something filthy. She just lay there, letting the agony slowly ebb through her. “I'd have to approve of your work, I think.” He offered dryly, looming over her again. “And I very much do not.”

Chapter 2: Dear Runaway Heart

Fuck, Teia, I'm trying. Please tell him I'm trying. I'm sorry. Please. Please, get him to write back. I just I'm so sorry.

Chapter 3: You Weren't Enough

“Explain.” Viago hissed, tugging her closer. She blinked demurely up at him. “I had a lovely trip, thank you for asking. Sadly with how often and quickly we had to break camp, I didn’t get you any souvenirs. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me-” “Mirenna de Riva,” his voice was acidic now, “stop being a petulant child and explain how you set two elven gods free.”

Chapter 4: Demon in the Depths

His daggers slipped silently from their sheaths. “Destroy it and let's move on.” His voice was level, not quite emotionless, but peaceful. Encouraging.

Chapter 5: Blood on the Doorstep

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a crushing hug. He was stiff at the contact, as usual, all discomfort and unease. It caused a suffocating wave of homesickness to wash through her. “I missed you, Vi.” She whispered. He was quiet for a long moment before the ghost of a touch brushed against her back. “You survive this, Renn. You come home.”

Chapter 6: Just a Spark

The warm grin faded, the sharp light of a Crow glinting in his eyes. “Perhaps, and we could delve into that, but then I would also have a question for you. I saw your ‘swimming’ back to the boat and you say you hate your room with the floor to ceiling fish tank-” “We appear to be at an impasse.” She offered crisply, sitting up a little straighter. “What a shame we must abandon this scintillating discussion here!”

Clipped Wings Excerpts

He rose to his feet with a serpentine grace, slow and fluid. Dangerous. “Lucanis Dellamorte.” She felt ice in her veins as he took measured steps around the desk. “Imprisoned for a year by Zara Renata, known blood mage and Venatori leader. The Ossuary was her personal laboratory. Notes and remains recovered speak of experiments to foster demonic possessions to create more powerful abominations.” He circled her slowly, coming to a stop mere inches from her face. “But you knew that already.”

The room had gone silent, the only other noise the quiet crackle of the fire. Faces had gone pale, eyes were downcast, and breaths were shallow if not held entirely. You never ask a Crow how they came to be, because no one else could ever stomach the details. Renn swirled her drink once more.

That did earn her a frustrated growl. Her heart was back in her throat at the noise and Spite was narrowing their eyes again. A dangerous grin slowly crawled across their face. Spite brought their free hand up to tug her hair free from the pins that held it in place. She didn't dare move as it cascaded to her shoulders, barely daring to breathe. He dragged their fingers through her hair, trapping a lock and pulling it to their lips. “Like fresh blood. Fire dancing in the hearth. Warmth in the bones.” He purred.

“If you want to be a Crow like me, it’s going to hurt.” She swallowed thickly, but nodded. “That’s okay.” “It’s not.”

“You’re here,” he interrupted softly, raising a hand to cup her cheek, “you’re really here.” She leaned into the touch almost desperately. “Promise?” “I swear.” He brushed the tears from her cheeks, the touch feather light. And then he was pulling her close, pressing a kiss so tender to her lips that she almost started crying all over again. It ended too soon, the grounding action broken as he pulled away. His eyes were searching her face. She didn't meet his gaze, focused instead on their entwined hands. With the slightest tilt of her head, she wet her lips. “Prove it.”

 She was still bracing herself with one hand on the bookshelf, only partially turned to face him. Her usual lopsided grin jumped to her lips, pulling ever wider. “Hey, Vi-” She didn't get to finish her greeting before he swept through the room. He bundled her in a tight hug, one hand at the back of her head to press her into his shoulder and the other clawing into her back. There was a tremble to him, the smallest shaking as she was crushed against him.

Flaws and Fangs

my unpublished and currently shelved (potentially forever) BG3 fic that I think had some highlights! it was gonna be a Tav/Astarion story, but I always start these things with that in mind and then write a bunch of solo stuff for my OC instead lmao but have a few bits and bobs from it! I repurposed my first dnd OC, Candra, for BG3 so please enjoy a runaway drow rogue who just wanted to get rich in peace

She couldn’t even do a flashy job because that’d draw attention and she did not want to be in the Guild’s crosshairs. Having to concede the hard earned loot to a third party just didn’t sit well with her. If she wanted to pay taxes, she’d get an honest job. She saw the appeal of running the Guild, sure, and she would concede it had its perks, but bowing to authority had never been her strong suit.

“It’s going to be hilarious if they’re a very nice soul willing to help us, but fine!” She shrugged her bag to the ground, keeping her daggers concealed in her sleeves. “You get to watch the loot, just in case. And if I die, you have to bury me with the shiniest thing I found!” She took a bouncing step forward before she turned around, locking eyes with the cleric. “I mean it. I’ll haunt you otherwise.”

His gleeful grin fell into disappointment as he tutted. "Oh love, once a killer, always a killer." "Not. Anymore." She was baring her teeth like a cornered animal, a tremble settling along her bones. "From one monster in the night to another, you can't talk the blood off your hands."

"M'sorry." Her words were quiet and a little slurred. "I shouldn't joke about hurting you. I don't…" and she paused, swallowing thickly as she swayed, "I don't want to be someone who causes you pain." It rather felt like she had placed a knife lovingly to his heart and slowly sank it to the hilt, twisting it home. He had had enough, he wanted to flee. He wanted to disappear into the shadows and tear apart whatever creatures lurked within them. Anything to vent the bitter guilt building in his chest. But she still held his sleeve in her faint grip and he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Instead he gently pried her hand free, cradling it in his own as he turned troubled eyes to Halsin.

Personal Projects

End of the Line: this was a short little idea I wrote out for my dnd warlock Nikolai. I've had a few ideas of where Nik's pact could take him and I had a soft spot for his patron Emera basically body jacking him so she could walk the physical plane without being noticed and this idea was Nik fighting back to prevent her from doing that, for a time. she'd at least have to start from scratch again. (not actually canon to the game, because it hasn't ended and I don't know what my DM actually plans to do lol) also if you've watched King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, you might recognize a line lmao

He felt the sword still, as disconnected from his physical body as he was. It hurt like nothing else had. He watched the blood blossom from his chest and into Her. It made him want to scream, but he just dug his nails in more. She was writhing in his arms, spluttering in disbelief at what was happening. A mere mortal, her perfect puppet, was fighting back. “You insolent child! I gave you everything, I made you!” She snarled. “And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” He breathed, shutting his eyes. He knew what came next. “Now kindly get the fuck off our Plane and take a nice, long nap.”

Alone in the Torrent: another little writing project for Nik! I wrote this to detail some downtime we had after a particularly rough session for him where he essentially locked himself in his inn room to drink himself stupid and have a little mental breakdown about life following the 2 years he lost to the Shadowfell and inability to contact his little sister who may or may not be dead.

“What I would give to cease feeling.” He snarled into the empty air, teeth bared to no one. He felt it all too keenly, much as he liked to pretend otherwise. Loathed as he was to admit it. What had feeling ever done for him? Lancing agony at the loss, alienation, isolation in his life. It had gifted him simmering anger for his treatment at the hands of others, the pain they inflicted because they could, because he was different. Because he was weak and meant nothing, so it bit deep into his flesh and spread its vile venom to his heart. What was the small warmth in his life to the vitriol of living? Where was the purpose?

In the Blood: a story about elemental mages, wild magic, and the spirits that fuel them. it follows Cillian, a wild mage attuned to water, as he tries to help his noble friend Ashe save her childhood friend/maybe girlfriend wild mage Maev from the murderous spirit that's possessed her. also castle mage Eira was sent to monitor their journey and they may or may not have a thing with Cillian that neither want to acknowledge.

Cillian flung his own magic out, the water surging away from him as he ran. Eira was watching with wide eyes, their mouth open in surprise as the healer full body tackled them away from the river. The duo fell in a heap as the water swelled, screaming past in a violent torrent seconds later. It burst over the banks and he pulled in panicking breaths, trying to force the choking waves back. He didn’t have the magic for this. They were going to be swept away just like his home all those years ago. A stubborn fury flared in his chest. With a fool’s defiance he wrapped his arms tight around the mage underneath him who was now making a choking, spluttering noise while their hands flailed uselessly against his back. The whole affair was lost to him as he tried to shrink their combined matter into as small a space as possible. It would be too much to force the river back into its banks, so he’d simply make the water ignore them. Super easy. He wheezed with the effort, a symphony of a dozen tiny cracks issuing forth from his person. Only a few were his own body protesting the effort. Trying to overpower another mage’s magic was an exhausting task, doubly so when they had a spirit backing them up. He didn’t, so it would be a waste of time to try. Or rather, he didn’t want to find out if he suddenly did. That specific fear didn’t get to stay in the spotlight for long as the water was proving quite disagreeable.

Green Above, Rot Below: I wanted to try and write my Curse of Strahd druid's background. Owain was abandoned as a baby/entrusted to a pack of wolves by his druidic mother running for her life and later found by a family friend (also a druid) who didn't know he existed before stumbling upon the wild child. Drystan took it upon himself to cease his nomadic travels for a time to raise the boy and teach him about his magic before entrusting the protection of that forest to the young man. and then he gets yoinked into Strahd's domain lmao, but this is about him as a kid

“Then why was I alone? If my magic likes it here, then would not my mother’s or father’s have liked it here too?” Owain’s voice wobbled. “Was it bad that I was born with magic? Did they leave me because of it?” Drystan’s next breath escaped him, slightly strangled, unsure how to untangle the many complicated feelings and reasons that could make up this child’s abandonment. There was no easy answer. With a heavy sigh, he sat on the ground and patted the dirt next to him. The boy sniffled, but sat. With a rustle of leaves the druid cast his gaze upwards to where the sky, tinged with the purple and blue of night settling in, was peeking through the canopy. His idle hands dragged through the grass, pulling it long to tangle between his fingers. “Are you alone, Owain? In this forest, among the trees and wolves, under the colors of the sky? With the magic running through you, filling you with the song of the world, do you feel alone with it?” He was met with another soft sniffle, but he wasn’t waiting for a real answer. “We cannot know why you were left here, given to the protection of the pack, short of your parents suddenly returning, but that reason won’t change who you are now. It doesn’t change that you are loved. Your magic is simply a part of you and if you were thrown away for it, then you were never meant to be with them. The forest is your home, the pack is your family, and you are Owain. You are a beloved druid of the green and sky, the treasured child of wolves. You are the sun after a storm, the desire to stretch your hands to the sky, you are so much more than the child left behind. Do not let the uncertainties of the past rob you of the joy in the present.”

and hey, if you're still reading this far 1) crazy, thank you for letting me ramble and share way too much of my work and 2) no really, thank you. so as a bonus treat, have the opening to my oldest project, a story I have been working and reworking since 2008 when I just a kid in middle school: The Hunted, my story about werewolves and creatures like them following Alyk, possessed by a homicidal spirit named Roka

It hurt. Not the usual bone crunching, razor sharp pain he was used to. There was no stabbing agony behind his eyes, no torturous spasms to force him to his knees, no gut wrenching scream to choke down. It was a hollow pain, empty and cold and pulling him down into the dark. It was a numbing misery, leaving him dull and listless. There was a distant ache in his chest, somewhere in the hole where his heart used to sit. He had lost her.  It hurt. She wasn't truly gone, not really. He could walk just three blocks back to her shop, duck past the curtain like he always did and give his customary half wave. It would be easy to entwine his fingers with hers, feel the pleasing rumble of her distracted greeting against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hair. He could sit in his corner, continue to pretend to read or do paperwork while he guarded her shop. Perhaps he could have dozed off in the afternoon sun again, lulled by the sound of her quill on parchment and the sweet smell of books. Maybe she would have brought him a meal from a passing vendor to rouse him, teasing him the entire time. But the shop no longer held those golden moments. His hands were still slick with blood, the iron tang fresh on his tongue as he gnashed fangs. He pressed his head back against the wall, glaring up at the dark night sky with crimson eyes. The thin sliver of moon leered back at him. Alas, poor Alyk! The voice tore through his mind like claws, dripping with derision. Such a cursed thing, aren't you? Every woe of the world is nothing compared to your misery! Such agony it must be to walk with your own legs upon the sunlit earth. To feel the breeze upon your face and dwell among men as if you belong. Poor, wretched creature that you are. This was the familiar pain. The kind that stole his breath and tore at the fabric of his being. His vision spotted dark, a brief second where he thought unconsciousness might offer him a blissful escape, but the familiar sharp jolt kept it away. As if someone was jabbing a particularly boney elbow into his side as he dozed off. Pathetic little Alyk, always running, always a coward. Never able to bear what he's done. “I didn't do it.” His voice was a hiss, shivering and fragile, but angry.

[curiosity-killed]

My favorite thing about the “ancient military historian rates X battle scenes in movies” is that Roel Konijnendijk comes across as someone who *would* sit down with you and very seriously contemplate the best battle tactics against ice zombies.

My second favorite thing is his deep and abiding love of ditches

[inthedarkofficial]

You can also apply for a Voter Authority Certificate, as mentioned above. You need a recent digital photo and your national insurance number. That's all. It's free. They legally had to bring it in. Deadline is listed as above. Deadline is a week after the postal vote deadline so there are options.

[Image ID]

Key dates for the 2024 UK general election

Deadline for registering to vote: 23:59 on Tuesday 18th June

Deadline for applying for a postal vote: 17:00 Wednesday 19th June

Deadline for applying for a proxy vote: 17:00 Wednesday 26th June

Deadline for applying for a Voter Authority Certificate: 17:00 Wednesday 26th June

Polling day: 07:00-22:00 Thursday 4th July

[End image ID]

[angelicxi]

thinking on this day of young thug's lawyer saying his name simply stands for "truly humble under god." hope that old man is getting sucked senseless he's earned it

[ccrv-7]

saw-esque halloween themed dnd oneshot with the party tomorrow and i probably wont be able to attend

[bucketofpaint]

Danny is Damian's clone.

He's well aware of it. He wasn't just any clone. He was the very first. That was the difference between Danny and other clones. He was made before the League started using brainwashing and stuff into their cloning process.

When Danny was fresh out of the tube, the League had sat him down and explained his the purpose of his existence, gave him some intense training, and immediately tossed him out into the world.

But the thing was, he just didn't care. He had absolutely no loyalty to his creators, and he had no desire to kill/kidnap his original. So he just started walking. The next thing he knew, he was at some orphanage in Illinois.

And then the rest was history. He got adopted by a pair of enthusiastic scientists and their red-head daughter, got his own name, and he could finally start living his own life.

Danny had put the past behind him and had barely even thought about it at all for a long time. That was unill his original showed up at his school.

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

Damien was annoyed. He was stuck at some random Illinois town (supposed to be the most haunted place in the world, which was a bunch of ludicrous.) On a transfer program. He tried convincing Father how illogical it would be, but Father had told him it would be good for him to meet new people.

___

Danny was annoyed.

"I don't understand what the big deal about him is anyways," Danny complained.

"He started being the ceo of Wayne Enterprise when he was a teenager." Sam countered.

"Ok, so, nepotism."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand why you're so against him."

"One, billionaire. Two, Tucker is way cooler than Tim Drake.

Sam's eyes soften. " Tucker is just gone for a few weeks."

Danny's cheeks felt warm. "I never said anything about that. I just want Tucker to find a cooler role model, is all.

Sam gave him an all-knowing look. "Well, if you say so. I'm going to get in line."

Sam, all ways waited last to get in the lunch line. Claiming she didn't want to hold up line when the lunch ladies had to get the vegetarian option. Which was fine, but now that Tucker was doing the dumb transfer student program, all he could do was eat his mediocre lunch and mindlessly play on his phone.

Untill someone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cafeteria into the hallway. Danny turned around to face the person. He froze at the sight of his own face. Or well, a glaring rich kid version.

"Oh, it's you." Danny said nonchalant, even though he was screaming inside.

"You're not going to play dumb, clone?"

"No, why would I, The resemblance is uncanny.

"What are you doing here?" His original demanded

"You dragged me here."

His original scowled. "You know what I mean, clone. I won't hesitate to end you."

"Just trying to go to school, honest."

Original glared at him, scanning him with his eyes. The grip on Danny's arm loosened. " I'll be watching you, clone."

" Whatever you say, template."

Danny walked back to the cafeteria, blocking out the yells of rage behind him.

___

It was about a week of Damian watching his clone, and he was confused. At first, he thought the league sent the clone to trade places with him before he went back to Gotham, but now he wasn't sure. The Clone seemed to fit in the community to well to have show up recently, but that didn't disprove the theory entirely. It could be a long-term plan from the League. They could be responsible for putting the transfer program in place in the first place.

The other theory was that the clone escaped and made a life for himself, but that didn't explain how he got past his programming.

After the last period, Damian found his clone and pulled him aside.

"What do you want?" His clone asked, irritated.

"You're different then other clones, explain."

"I don't know. I didn't really stick around very long to find out."

"What about your programming?"

"I didn't have any?"

Damian thought about it before giving a small nod. "You don't seem to be a threat, but I'll still keep my eye on you, clone."

"I've got a name, you know." He held out his hand. "Danny Fenton, nice to make your acquaintance."

Damian heistently shook his hand. "Damian Wayne."

That started their unsaid agreement. You don't mess with me, I don’t mess with you. They interacted with each other sometimes, but not very offen. They were impartial to one another, and both sides weren't very keen on getting to know each other. And that was their relationship till the day Damian was leaving.

Damian was waiting for the bus when Danny approached him.

"What do you want, Daniel?"

"I told not to call me that, but uh, here." Danny handed a piece of paper to him. "It's my phone number if you ever need help from the League or anything."

Damian slipped the paper into his pocket. "Give me your phone." Danny handed over his phone, and Damian started typing.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked.

"I'm putting my number in. If you ever require assistance."

Danny smiled, "Thanks."

____

A few months later.

Tim was peeking over a corner.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

Tim didn't say anything and just waved him over. He walked over and stared in aw at what he saw. Damian was slouched on the couch, his hair messy, playing on his phone.

A few minutes later, Jason joined.

"Am I hallucinating?" Tim whispered.

"Nah, I don't think so... unless we're all hallucinating." Jason whispered back.

"Do you think he has brain damage or been possessed or something?" Tim asked.

Dick shook his head. "That seems unlikely."

"This is so trippy. I've never seen him wear anything that casually like ever.

"What are you imbeciles doing?"

"We're watching Damian."

All three of them froze and turned to look at a glaring Damian.

Damian walked past them and went right up to the second Damian.

"Daniel, what are you doing here?"

The causal Damian 'Daniel' pulled out a letter. "Your pops invited me, and I didn’t want to risk the chance of batman showing up at my front door."

Damian scoffed, "Of course, Father found out."

Alfred walked in. "Master Daniel, I'll be taking you to Master Bruce."

The double got up and went to Alfred.

"Cookie, Master Daniel?"

"Sure, and call me danny."

[iamthatonefangirl]

personification - nsfw fatws bucky barnes

i’m trying out different posting times to see when works best lol here’s an early one because i’ve been waiting in a line for a store for two hours

i still don’t know how to title my works

~~~

"oh, she's absolutely purring for me, isn't she?" he asks, poking fun at you. you bring your hands to cover your face, smiling and gently laughing at the way he's talking.

"laugh all you want, baby," he says, laughing himself, "but you know I'm right. and I know you like it."

so what if he's right? it's stupid, but god, if he's the one saying it, somehow he makes it hot.

"your pussy is absolutely begging for me to do something, anything, isn't she?" he taunts, running his thumb up and down, gathering the wetness that pools in your folds that you're entirely powerless to stop.

his words continue to humiliate you and make you laugh at the same time. your face heats, blushing pink, in your amusement and desperation for more.

you never knew it could be this fun, but it's exciting, enjoyable, with him. anything with him always is. you're so deeply in love with him.

he's your best friend, you realize.

"I can see her drooling for me, baby, just asking me to fill her up with anything I please, ain't that right?"

god, he's gonna pull secrets from you that you never thought you'd admit to if he keeps talking like this.

"ought to fuck her full o'my cum and then plug her up, don't ya think, baby?" he asks, complementing his nasty words with a smack against your cunt.

you can't help but moan and cover your face further.

"nuh-uh. look at me babydoll. look at me while I talk to you."

you do. you drop your hands and give him a look of astonishment at how utterly ludicrous he's being right now.

"nah, doll, don't look at me like that," he laughs, finally filling you with two of his fingers, making your face fall as you gasp at the sudden intrusion. "that's it, that's how you should look at me from now on, all the time, baby."

you grunt in dissatisfaction. he's joking, but it's such a far-fetched idea when you really think about it–

"oh, I'll make sure of it, doll," he continues, "maybe I'll leave a little vibrator up here, make sure you always have that look on your face, make sure everyone knows who's keeping you satisfied. bet you'd like it, beg for it like a little whore, even."

he's literally gonna be the death of you. you laugh again, spurring him to laugh, too.

"come on, doll," he says through tears, "can't make you come if you're too busy laughing."

"is that a challenge?"

~~~

masterlist

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