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girlsworldillusion · 6 months ago

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I'd let the world burn for you

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Summary: Amid the severe consequences of war, Aemond finds himself alone, without the presence and support of his young and sweet wife, who insists on staying away from him, afraid of who he has become. He has been a respectful and patient husband. But tonight he feels like he has finally reached his limit.

Author's note: Please, pay attention to the tags. This story contains sensitive topics, such as: +18, SEX, SEVERE INTERNAL CONFLICT, DUB-CON/NON-CON, POSSESSIVE/OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, EMOTIONAL DEPENDENCY, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP AND MORE.

word count: 6k

There is no specific description of which house the reader belongs to, so feel free to fill this in as you wish.

English is not my native language, forgive me for any spelling mistakes.

Good reading!

He can taste vomit in his esophagus.

Aemond knows it wouldn't be too difficult to get out what little he ate. He coughs as discreetly as he can into the back of his hand before taking off his eye patch, wanting to splash some cold water on his face and throat. He pretends not to notice how his hands are a little shaky as he pulls the gloves off of them, cupping his fingers inside the basin left by the servants on the table. The cool water feels refreshing on his hot skin, and with a satisfied hiss, he looks up, staring directly at the reflection of his own face in the mirror.

The flickering flames of the fire near the wall provide no comprehensive illumination, and he is honestly relieved by that. What little he can see is disturbing enough. His single lilac eye is bloodshot, his silver hair is disheveled, so different from normal. Paleness in the face, sunken cheeks. The subtle glow of the blue stone in his other eye and the deep scars around it only add a dying touch to his ghostly visage.

Another deep tug wracks his stomach and he leans forward, gripping the sides of the table with abandon, preparing to actually throw up this time. But nothing comes, nothing but the painful, nauseating feeling in his body.

He can't forget.

It's all his doing, after all. It's all his fault.

The death of all those people, the desolation of the entire Riverlands. It's all his fault.

Any feeling of greatness and power that previously inhabited his body no longer existed. His superiority and confidence swept away by the tide until he was spat out on the shore with nothing but pain and trauma.

He is a hypocrite and he knows it.

Aemond is not a good person. He doesn't want to fool anyone with his anxiety attack, he definitely doesn't need to take on the role of the poor regretful guy. He doesn't regret what he did, he doesn't regret doing what was absolutely necessary for the good of his family. He could never regret this. And he knows that tomorrow, a week from now, or a month from now, he will do exactly the same thing again if necessary. There are no limits to what he is willing to do to and for those to whom he is loyal.

He can't even dare deny liking it all.

When he's on Vhagar's saddle, with the world in flames just beneath them and the addictive power to decide for good or ill for those poor, hopeless souls, he can swear he's never felt anything better. There's something disturbingly liberating about embracing the monster that resides in his chest. It's surprising to him how good it feels to be ruthless, to take on the role of the uncontrollable beast everyone says he is (rightfully so).

It wasn't always like this. But a series of violent and tragic actions that may or may not have been intentional earned Aemond more than just an ominous codename. They gave him respect; fear. Aemond One-Eye, the son without expectations, the child without any prominence. No more.

He feels ruthless when he is in the skies, dictating the fate of humanity. It gives him power. He is powerful now, he is no longer the boy forgotten by everyone. The feeling of being superior pumps hard through his veins until he goes wild, makes him feel like he's crushing people under the soles of his boots. He is more powerful. Their lives depend solely on the way his hand moves and it turns out that, to their misfortune and terror, his hands are wrapped around the saddle of the largest dragon in the world. It is difficult to be sensible and godly when there is so much power at his command. He is more powerful. There is nothing that can stop him. He feels invincible, unstoppable. He doesn't just enjoy it - he worships this feeling.

At least until it's all over.

When the dust settles and all that is left is the consequence of his actions, it is then that he quietly withers away.

He killed them. All of them. His hands are stained with blood and ash and it's all his fault. He has separated families forever, traumatized so many souls with insurmountable depression and pain and it is all his fault. Adults, elderly, children, babies. All dead. Because of him. Hoarse screams of terror and fear, all begging for a mercy that would never come - could never come. Not by his hands. Not when he had a family and a purpose he was so loyal to.

Aemond worships the sense of power that comes with a reputation for being ruthless and regrets nothing he has done and will do for his duty. Unfortunately, this does not mean that he does not suffer the consequences in equal proportion.

Another sigh. He drops his head and presses his fingers against the edge of the table. He closes his eye so tightly that patches of white light explode into his vision, each labored breath makes him lean forward and clench his teeth. The pain is impossible to ignore – it shakes his insides, leaves his limbs trembling.

"Is this hurting you?" a soft voice asks, a small, fragile thing, almost impossible to hear - if it weren't for the fact that he lives to hear the sound of that voice. He knows this, and so does the owner of the voice, both fully aware of this dangerous dependence. “Pretending to be a God, I mean.”

Aemond feels his heart beat faster, the angelic sound of your voice rescuing him from the merciless depths of his own mind, making him slowly raise his head as he stares at the place where the voice came from. He almost can't believe what he heard. But there you are, sitting on your bed, surrounded by comfortable sheets and pillows, your wide doe eyes catching the moonlight and fire flames in the dark of night, shining like stars.

His sweet wife.

He simply looks at you, not offering any kind of response right away. Not because he doesn't want to. But because he's too surprised to hear your voice and see your face to form words at the moment. Aemond doesn't know how he ended up here, in your private chambers - the place he hasn't been welcome in for some time. He was supposed to go to his chambers. Was he that distraught and distracted? Could the confusion clouding his senses have unconsciously led him directly to the person he needs most at the moment?

He looks around quickly just to confirm that, yes, there is no doubt that he is in your chambers. He didn't intend to do that. He shouldn't be here, invading your privacy and ignoring your request that he keep distance. Of course, his longing and need for you made him consider such a thing countless times. Regardless of your wishes, he was your husband; he had a right to be here. But he never did that. You don't want him in your bed anymore and you've made that clear. And Aemond was not ignorant or even insensitive enough to pretend not to understand your reasons. You had a lot of them and he knows.

You were not made for cruelty. Your innocence and purity made you unable to be aware of the horrible things he did and still treat him the same way as before. You were afraid of him now, just like everyone else. The blood of many was on his hands and you knew it, just as you knew he regretted nothing, and that he would not stop this - not until victory was achieved.

You didn't agree with that, you never did, not even before the marriage. But what could a young woman do in the world they lived in? You were just a piece on a board game, an ace up his sleeve used by your father specifically to provide armies and loyalty to the crown in exchange for a marriage and a more than convenient name for your family.

Aemond knew from the beginning that you didn't want to marry him; how could you after all? You barely knew him beyond the questionable reputation that surrounded him, and a dangerous family clash was about to break out in the kingdom - this was definitely not the right environment for romance to blossom. But you did your duty. You had been an exemplary wife in the short two months of peace that followed your marriage. You treated him with respect and patience, slowly opening your heart to him with each passing day. He wasn't the most talkative or the most sensitive husband and yet you showed empathy for his limitations, accepting what he gave you with gentle smiles and rosy cheeks, without demanding anything more. So sweet. So inocent.

It was no surprise the feeling that welled up in his chest.

Aemond was obsessed before he even realized it. Needing your gentle attentions like a flower needs the sun. He clung to you as his only comfort in an almost bleak existence, he became more and more obsessed with you and you didn't notice. You read with him, walked through the gardens with him and talked to him as you always did, kind and polite. And every day he felt hungrier, pushing the limits of restraint. You welcomed him into your bed every night, welcoming him between your legs as if he belonged there - and he did, indeed. Aemond's appetite for you and you alone knew no bounds.

But he wasn't the man you married anymore, was he?

You fear him now, any and all advances he's made with you over the past few months have vanished into thin air like the ashes he's so used to seeing now. The feelings he was carefully cultivating in your chest now seem to have sunk so deep into your being that he thinks they no longer even exist. You no longer craved his attention; the touch of softness and affection, whenever “husband” dripped from your mouth, was absent. And now all he could do was want.

Aemond doesn't look away from you, not wanting to miss this moment for anything, not after being deprived of it for so long. And you look back at him from where you sit on the bed, chin lifted in false courage. You looks at him with your bright eyes and high cheekbones, which seem even more highlighted in the warm lighting around your bodies.

He may have entered your chambers out of pure unconscious instinct, out of nothing but silent desperation. His body guiding him when his mind no longer could. But now that he's here, he doesn't know how he didn't realize it from the beginning. It's impossible to think about anything other than you. You, you, you.

At this point, deaths at his hands no longer existed. Not his pains or the weights he carries, not revenge, not duty. Anything. Absolutely nothing. There is only this moment, between him, a boy who so wanted to be enough for those he loves and the young girl who is illuminated by the light of the flames.

He feels it. It's not new. That strange impulse that draws all the attention of the environment around him to you and you alone; an almost painful need between his teeth to take a bite and not let go, to have it with all your heart and nothing less.

"Nothing to say?" You press and he's not even embarrassed by the fact that he doesn't remember what you said before. He should leave. It's all he thinks, even as he takes an uncertain step closer to your bed. And that's enough for you to immediately tense up, wrapping your small hands in the sheets to subtly pull them towards you. You are hiding yourself. Hiding yourself from him.

Aemond should leave, continue respecting your limits.

If this had been another night, maybe he would have done it. If the smell of smoke and dragon scales hadn't been trapped in the leather of his war clothes, as well as the dust of ash, then perhaps he could have left. If he couldn't smell the insistent scent of charred bodies and decimated land in his nostrils, taking permanent root in his lungs, perhaps he could respect your innocence.

Not even Aemond knew how on edge he already was. Your refusal of his proximity was just the final push to his downfall.

He adores you. He worships the ground you walk on. He respected your decisions and stayed away much longer than any other husband would have done. And this is how you repay him?

Aemond narrows the only functional eye he has left. You don't react, nothing more than another protective grip on the sheets and a slow swallow of saliva. He wants you so much and the thought enrages him. Why? Why does he feel this way? He desperately wants to punish you for making him feel this way. He wants to punish himself for even thinking about doing this to you.

You left him like this; nothing but a mess. When would you finally accept him for who he is? When would you understand that some cruelties were necessary for the final goal to be achieved? When would you see that everything he did and would do was solely for his family? For you. To keep you safe. When would he be enough?

He grits his teeth and feels his entire body tense with thoughts. He hates it; he hates the way you confuse him and make him feel all these terrible emotions. It makes he feels weak. The temptation of the slightest chance of your affection suffocates his common sense. He feels his hands shaking. He'd been so blinded by the hopeful, innocent vision he constantly saw you through that he fooled himself into thinking he was on your mind as much as you were on his all this time.

"Aemond?" You whisper, sounding more uncertain than before, disturbed by his extended silence as he slowly approaches the bed. He keeps looking at you the whole time, letting you glimpse the flames of fire reflected in the icy sapphire in his eye. He adores you, with every fiber of his being. But the flash of fear that shines in your eyes in response makes him stretch the corner of his lip in a malicious smile. He couldn't help it, there's something sweet and pure about you that makes him constantly waver between wanting to protect you and wanting to destroy you.

You try not to weaken before him, but Aemond immediately notices the way your body is a little trembling when his hand, that same hand that drags the musk of leather and death, passes through the fabric of the sheets, spreading lightning over your legs. You don't stop him, but your eyes flash with a frightened warning, a warning he ignores tonight. His palm flattens against your ribs, daring to caress, to feel the linen of the sheets beneath his fingers, the softness of your flesh beneath it, and you squeak an off-key sound, pulling the cocoon of blankets and furs up to hide you.

A small annoyed growl leaves his lips and his other hand quickly covers yours, stopping you from continuing.

"No. Enough of that." He says in a low but firm tone, looking sternly into your eyes. You part your lips, surprised by his behavior, and try to pull the hand still trapped by his, but he doesn't let you go. "That's enough, wife."

He thinks you might try to deny it, but you fall silent, slowly relaxing against his grip on your hand. Aemond wants to purr at this, wants to praise you and spoil you, because you are so good, so good. His good girl. Even when you're crushing his heart between your delicate hands.

It's not your fault, he tells himself. It's not your fault that he's obsessed with you, driven crazy by the idea of you. Aemond can't even focus properly, even when you're in front of him, defenseless and at the mercy of his whims. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest from pure ecstasy and excitement at the same time. And he can feel, on top of it all, the blood flowing to his hard cock, making it swell beneath his black riding pants. He feels embarrassed by his actions, but at the same time excited, just by the little things you do, by everything you are to him.

“Something is wrong with me...” He says, more to himself than to you, gently pushing a strand of your soft hair behind your ear, sliding his thumb in a gentle caress across your delicate earlobe. “You're in my house. You're in my house and I don't want you to leave. Never." He approaches your face, sliding his fingers from your ear to the side of your face, until he holds your small chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I need you." He continues, ignoring how honest and frank he looks - weak. “I keep thinking of ways to make this happen,” the more he talks, the faster you breathe, sweet little sighs near his lips, calling to him like a siren’s song… “I want to ruin you. Because I think that's the only way you won't leave me."

The intensity of his words scares you, he realizes, he sees how your eyes fill with tears and your eyebrows twitch. But even in the dim lighting of the flames, he can see how the tops of your cheeks turn red, how your chest trembles with the breath that catches there...you want him.

It's a shame you're so willing to keep him away.

But he can't stop.

Aemond closes the distance in an instant, pushing you down until he traps your body beneath his, feeling the contours of your soft, supple curves against him; he shudders. He caresses your face one last time before moving down, ignoring your hesitation and your useless efforts to push him away. Quick as a viper, he grabs the hand that moves to push against his chest, wrapping it with the other still attached to his, holding your wrists tightly above your head.

You cry out at the pressure on his wrists, the long lashes over your eyes fluttering, pleading. "A-Aemond, what are you doing?" you stutter. "Please, please... I said I needed it - please give me some more-"

"Time? Oh yes, you said it." He hums thoughtfully, placing a thigh between your legs, dipping his face into the crook of your neck to breathe in the fresh fragrance of your shower, snoring contentedly with your naturally sweet scent. Intoxicated by your scent, he trails his lips along the slender column of your neck before stopping at the shell of your ear. “I’m so sorry, dear, I’ve waited too long. We’ve both waited too long.” He intones, intoxicated by your presence. You sob once but don't say anything else, choosing to turn your face away from him. Aemond snorts a laugh at that, but doesn't stop you, preferring to leave a tender, wet kiss on your cheek.

Squeezing your wrists with one hand, he allows the other to slide slowly down your body, almost reverentially. He paused at the delicate laces holding the front of your nightdress before untying them with deft fingers. The front opens, exposing your silky, flushed skin to his hungry gaze. He doesn't have the patience to remove the fabric completely from your body, so he just lowers it enough so that your breasts are exposed. He bites his lip, holding a curse between his clenched teeth. When he presses his bare palm to your perky breasts, he tastes your trembling innocence, your soft flesh.

So beautiful.

So pure.

From the beginning you were his opposite, your delicate hands, as irritatingly clean as his are stained with blood and ash.

As much as he truly suffers from the consequences of his actions, he never regrets them, because he knows they are right - necessary. There was only the future to shape, the past should stay where it belongs; behind him. Something he had learned through much pain, but unfortunately, his sweet wife had not yet. But as he runs his greedy fingers down your body, feeling the goosebumps on your soft skin with each touch, Aemond knows he scares you as much as he excites you. You can't hide it from him. Your obviously involuntary response to him only makes him fiercer, hungrier. He wants to ruin you from the inside, until you can't bear to live a single day without his touch.

He allows you to continue your theatrics, still stubbornly staring at the wall while pretending his actions don't affect you. There's something almost too tempting about it, in fact; It's a matter of honor for him. He will break your masks and he will take pleasure in doing so.

Letting his fingers slide down your sides, Aemond's lips wander. He kisses the hole in your throat, moving down with wet, licked breaths to your breasts, tasting you. You gasp softly and grip tight fists on the bed sheets when he captures a soft nipple with a slow suck of lips and a teasing scrape of teeth, your body curling beneath him tightly. He smiles with your nipple still between his lips, leaving wide, warm trails of his tongue on the little perky bud. His hips slide against the inside of your parted thighs, pushing the hardened bulge in his pants against your pussy once.

You bite your lip and close your eyes, but he doesn't stop. With another thrust he uses his strength to push you back onto the bed, the bed you shared many nights with him, to fuck you into the warm sheets. It's almost too much for him to finally feel your little pussy once again, even through the leather of his pants and your delicate nightwear. But he continues with slow, strong thrusts, rubbing his cock against you in a way that teases your clit, the smell and heat of his effort wafting throughout his body; sweat, dragon, fire, ash, blood, death - all mixed together, merging with your own sweet, intoxicating scent and, of course, the unmistakable scent of sex.

Before the chaos broke out, Aemond was quite skilled at this, at driving you crazy. A part of him is extraordinarily pleased to find that he still remembers correctly, especially when a press of his fingers and a twirl of his thumb on your slobbery nipple makes you gasp. He wants to see you, to see you blush and sweat, looking ruined for him. Gods, oh yes, Aemond wants this so much. He can't stop, he can never stop, especially with you singing so sweetly to him. When you arch into his touch and whisper his name softly, like a secret no one can discover, his breath hitching. Aemond can't stop.

A specific thrust makes you let out a high-pitched meow, your hands pulling at the linen on the sheets and he moans along, releasing your breast with a wet pop to look at your face. You have your lips parted, your long eyelashes touching the top of your cheeks, your eyebrows furrowed in sweet agony. He thrusts a little faster, rubbing your clit with more pressure, taking in your presence and the feeling of your tiny, supple body, preening at every sound that leaves your lips.

Sounds so sweet, so beautiful; he considers himself a sinner with the way something so innocent and angelic makes his blood boil and his cock throb with need inside his pants, surely soaking the fabric with the way he feels himself leaking.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me, baby...”

And yet, he doesn't think he cares about dying by your hands when things turn out like this. He is admitting defeat without any embarrassment now; he can bear the dull weight of war, he can bear his own mind trying to destroy him at every turn, he can bear the betrayal of his own family and the demands of his duties. He can bear with anything.

Anything except being without you.

With an impatient grunt, his fingers tug at the soft skirt of your nightdress, bunching the thing at your waist as he rips your underwear down your legs. You don't try to stop him, but you don't try to help him either, remaining almost motionless against the bed, and he feels like he can growling at you like an animal for that - stubborn girl. He hates and loves this about you in equal intensity. He's almost rough and punishing as he hooks the back of your knee into the inside of his elbow, pushing your leg up to your breasts. And then you're giving up your fight, sighing - all anxious expression, furrowing your eyebrows and biting your lip as he hurriedly unzips his pants and pulls them down just enough to pull his cock out, slamming the wet, throbbing head over your clit before sliding his entire length along your folds.

You moan, he moans. The slide is wet and he can't tell if it's all you, if it's all him, if it's all both. He doesn't care, honestly. All that matters is how his cock is thrusting into your heat, hitting your clit with luscious pokes, coaxing more of those sweet sounds from your pretty lips.

He hooks your other leg in the crook of his elbow and does exactly what he did with the other, trapping you between him and the bed in a position where your entire pussy is presented to him. With his hands flat beside your head, he brings his face closer to yours, the leather covering his chest pushing your knees further into your breasts. You moan through your teeth, unable to do anything but tighten your hands around his shoulders. He smiles slowly, drunk on the sensations, still gently sliding the length of his cock into your folds.

Aemond doesn't look away from you, enchanted by the way you dance between looking at the sapphire stone and the deep lilac of his functional eye. You've always done this, he thinks - saying one was as beautiful as the other, impossible to choose.

“I’m giving myself to you, love…I’m yours.” He whispers softly, husky, needy to you. "Will you do the same from now on?"

He’s so close he feel how your heart races violently at his words, slamming against your ribcage as you take a deep breath. Every expression on your flushed face makes him sure you're going to have an intense crying fit, but even when the liquid in your eyes pours down the side of your eyes, you keep yourself almost in one piece. You look deeply into his eye as your shoulders shake. "Y-yes." You exhale, fragile. “Yes, yes, yes,” your voice sings repeatedly, with quick, confused nods, tears streaming from your eyes.

He can't hold back the husky sound that leaves his lips, his cock pulsing in reaction to your obvious fragility exposed to him.

"Yeah?" He asks breathlessly and it's very slow - as he thrusts inside you, thrusting his hips back and forth once, twice, three times until your pussy swallows as much of his cock as it can, until the tip of his hip bones rub it against your thighs. And it's so intense, so obscene – the position he puts you in, the full weight of his body pinning you to the bed, broad shoulders hiding you from view, silver hair like a curtain around the two of you, your mouth falling open in a silent scream and his releasing small curses between clenched teeth... debauchery.

You give his shoulders a few desperate slaps as he fills you, your tight ring of muscle stretched to accommodate his girth, and no matter how long it takes him to prepare you, no matter how wet you are, he knows there's always that initial pain that rips through your groin as he pushes into you. It makes you sway beneath him, little tearful sobs that are like the sweetest song to him.

Another curse muttered in deep Valyrian was his only warning as his palms sink into the softness of the bed. Your own hands looking desperate too, one tangled in the silver base of his hair at the back of his neck and the other gripping the material of his leather shirt, a strangled moan catching in your throat as he begins to fuck you slowly. You can only hold on as he pulls and pushes his body above you with each deep thrust, his impatience shown only in the forceful and violent way in which his hands grip the bed sheets.

He leans into you a little more, moving his hips in different ways, testing the angles until he makes more of those tears well up in your eyes as your pleasure increases almost painfully. Your moans quickly turn into babbling when a particularly strong movement of his hips makes you shake all over. The way your tight pussy tries to contain him and suck him in at the same time drives him crazy, feral.

He won't last long. He already knew this before it even started, but now, feeling your walls squeezing the life out of him after so long deprived of it, with your cute little noises getting louder and louder, with your expression drunk with lust and sadness, the buzz of battle still vibrating through his veins... Aemond feels release approaching shamefully fast for him.

He'll make it up to you later, Aemond promises himself. When the hot need subsides at least a little in his system, he'll take off his dirty war clothes, maybe ask you to take a shower with him. He'll soap your body and tease you until you're riding his cock in the tub at your own pace, his fingers rolling your little clit with each bounce of your hips. He will lay you on the bed and love every inch of your soft body, worship your skin with kisses and hickeys. He will part your thighs and bury his fingers and tongue in your wet softness. He will rip orgasm after orgasm out of you until you are hoarse from screaming, until your body is physically unable to continue.

He will do it all.

He has done it in the past, many times.

Now, however, all he needs is to find his release, to unload those months of forced distance inside his trembling body. But Aemond will be damned if he doesn't bring you along with him.

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, pushing your legs against your body further, lips parting with hoarse, breathless moans that escaped him with each thrust and the sweet pleas you murmured incoherently. The movement of his hips quickens, one hand leaving its blunt grip on the sheets to squeeze between your thighs, poking your clit in tight circles, his cock hitting a spot inside your walls that makes you shiver and tremble in anticipation.

“Aemond…” you cry, digging your nails into the back of his neck, pulling his body towards yours, as if you weren’t already physically as close as possible.

He growls at your plea.

“My little, innocent wife,” Aemond giggles wildly as your pussy clamps down on his length again, your climax approaching, his thumb rotating a steady rhythm on your clit. If only your mind was clear enough to form a coherent thought, maybe you'd complain that the rhythm of his cock in your pussy would be painful, that the continuous and harsh scratching of his clothes hurts the soft and delicate flesh of your body, but you don't say anything, not now. You just accept what he gives you. And he knows you missed him as much as he missed you. “Always so good to me baby.”

Aemond watches you intently, unable to look away from the pleasure that shows on your face. You're shaking, lost in your wet breaths and high-pitched, broken cries, your legs trapped between his body, welcoming him. You're tight and small, his sweet wife, and Aemond can feel your cracks stretching, a spider's web of fractured thought and temptation too much for anyone to bear, and as much as he knows it's impossible, he wants this moment to last forever. Aemond is undone. A fool in love. And it's sad. And it's beautiful. It's being at home.

"Mine." His murmur echoes next to your lips, both of you breathing each other's breath, his rhythm starting to falter, the searing heat rushing through his body beneath those layers of heavy clothing makes him dizzy, but he doesn't stop, he doesn't stop. “So pure, so beautiful, so delicate…” he caresses your clit without faltering with a rumbling purr as his cock swells inside you. “Ngh...oh fuck, so tight. You're going to get everything, aren't you, darling? All of me.” His own teeth graze your neck as you arch and scream in pleasure. “Be a good girl and don't let anything leak, hmmm…”

He fucks you roughly, your name dancing on his lips like a prayer in the dark. Aemond savors this moment with the veneration it deserves, the final chase. The two of you so broken, so vulnerable, shaking with pleasure for each other. He rubs your pussy, hips slamming into you at lightning speed.

And finally, gods yes, it finally happens.

"Aemond! A-Aemond, please! Please-" You throw your head back, your lewd pleas turning into a broken scream as you explode around him. Your face is flushed and glistening with a subtle sheen of sweat, tears streaming down. It's all he can take. You convulse and break and the sensation of his cock swelling with the resulting explosions of hot cum filling you follows shortly after. As your body and pussy tremble and clench, he finally releases his own pleasure, biting down hard on your shoulder to muffle his husky moans, spilling himself deep inside you, the continuous spasms of your orgasm milking every drop from him. You and he cum together, and even in the hazy haze of climax, he thinks he's never experienced something so sublime, so perfect.

You're both shaking as you come down from the waves of mutual pleasure, and Aemond is especially careful now, gently unfolding your legs from that tight position to allow you to stretch them, which earns him a long, grateful, relieved moan. He slowly pulls away until he's kneeling between your thighs, watching raptly as you bite your lip as his cock leaves your heat. A tight grip circles around your parted thighs, lifting them up a little to expose your dripping pussy. He looks almost in awe as he watches his seed flow steadily from your abused pussy.

But Aemond is selfish and his cum doesn't belong on the crumpled, sweaty sheets. No, he told you to keep it safe inside you and that's what would happen. His fingers slip into the wet mess of cum in your folds, pushing as gently as he can all the thick liquid inside you again.

You're too tired to react, but you still sob softly at the sensation, subtly squirming on the bed, legs shaking from being held in the same position for so long. He looks at you, icy lilac gaze half-lidded with lust, blue stone glowing in the flames of the fire. He looks at the soft, creamy flesh of your sweaty body. He longs to see dark spots and bite marks, a way of proving that you belong to him. He lifts his head, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, just above your left breast. His teeth leave crescent moons on your skin and you scream loudly at the stinging sensation, but you don't stop him. He walks away, admiring the constellations he had traced on your skin. Painting you for him, marking you as something unique to him.

You sniffle and blink wet eyelashes at him. He kisses his bite, murmuring gentle words to you, his lips trailing up with soft sucks and wet kisses in your throat until he brushes against your lips. And it's then, and only then, that he realizes he hasn't kissed you yet. He doesn't know why he didn't do it, given that it's probably the thing he misses most about you. Feeling the softness of your lips on his, the gradual way a small, innocent kiss quickly evolves into something more urgent, the way you immediately struggle to keep up with his pace, his hunger as he swallows your cute sighs and your ragged breaths as he suck your tongue.

Yes. This is what Aemond longs for. How easily he could make you fall apart in his hands.

Taking into account the way that you blush and look down at his lips, you're thinking the same thing. He smiles mischievously, slowly leaning in for a deep kiss, fingers damp with your juices and his cum resting on your jawline. Your little hands sink into his hair until you lightly scrapes your nails across his scalp, making Aemond shudder. The fingers of his other hand cup your hip, tracing the line of the bone in gentle patterns. His nose bumps yours as his tongue dances in your hot mouth, spreading in you the taste of smoke and revenge that seems to follow him at absolutely every moment now. And like his perfect antithesis, you gasp, let him savor your sweet, fruity flavor - so fuckin sweet.

Your legs circle his waist, making him press against your heat, quickly reigniting the flame of need within him. You lick it off his tongue, moan when he sucks your bottom lip and bites it, you beg between quick breaths and Aemond continues to rub himself against you, the kiss becoming sloppier, driving him crazy with how irresistible you are in this state. You give yourself completely to Aemond, without asking questions or making new complaints, and it drives him crazy.

"You are mine. Only mine. And you will never leave me again, do you understand?" He murmurs as he pulls away, both of you panting, looking seriously into your water-bright eyes, noting how they're a little wide and your mouth is swollen and wet from his kisses.

A few tears slide down your face, but you smile shakily at him, the hand in his hair stroking the silver strands lovingly.

"I am yours, Aem. Now and forever." Honesty bleeds into your shallow voice, your little fingers on your other hand tentatively tangling with the buckles of his shirt to open it.

Aemond rests his forehead against yours and truly smiles for the first time in a long, long time. Not a malicious, mocking or condescending smile... No, this time his lips are stretched into a small, but genuine, honest smile.

And it's because of you.

Because he knows he got what he wanted so much. He has you again. He was resilient, he was patient and he was fair. He fought and, with his efforts, created a space just for himself within your heart. He knows you're still unhappy with everything that's going on, and no matter how much he wants to, he can't change that. He can only strengthen you to bear it. It can only burrow deeper into your body and your heart until you are able to forget the atrocities that are happening around you - the horrible things that he is doing. It's a gaping hole in your chest that leaves you continually bleeding, he knows, but the exposed cut is so sweet, and here he is, licking the wound like an animal, with all the violent, relentless gentleness he has to offer as the vengeful prince that he is.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing his cock back into your abused pussy in a deep movement that draws a broken sound from both of you, pulling you against his chest. He rubs his sweaty face against your throat, your face, your hair. His voice syrupy and thick as he whispers, "I love you."

Fuck. Aemond would never let you go.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond x fem!reader #dance of the dragons #aemond smut

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 months ago

Text

Boom Clap (The sound of my heart)

Hi guys!

This is a second one from the world "Lia & The Firefighter" but you don't have to read it before reading this one. They are related but not like a serie, I don't know if it make sense 😂

It was from an ask so I hope you will be happy with this one, dear anon ♥

Please enjoy!

TW : Firefighter job, injury, blood, fire.

Girl on Fire is the other One Shot of the Serie.

Also the hottie on the right picture is @ylenia94riniti on Instagram.

You like to say that you know Lia by heart and that you can understand her moods and her thoughts really quickly. It’s usually right to be honest, she has almost no secrets for you. But it has to be said that the contrary is right too.

You were already working as a firefighter when you met her and by time she learned to know when you have a bad day. Or when you try to hide something to her, like the fact you almost fall of a bridge while rescuing someone. She knows it’s to protect her but sometimes she hates how you can be so selfless about yourself and your health. Because of that, she takes care of you like she could, making you meal or massive sandwiches to take with you when you are working and being sure that you always have everything you want at her home. Of course, you told her that it’s not what matters to you, but she just glares at you and don’t answer anything.

Today started like always. You waked up and went for a run, then took a shower before going to wake Lia up. Then you had your breakfast together and Lia went to training while you were leaving for work. When you are working during the day, that is usually how you organize your day. After work you find each other at your house, or at Lia’s, to enjoy a night together. Or you go to watch Lia play, it depends on the schedule.

You had several interventions during the day, but nothing really surprising. Then, less than one hour before you finish your day, the alarm sound in the fire station and like your colleagues, you take your things and run to the truck.

While they are driving you there, you learn about the situation very little by little. At the end, you understand that the case is a massive fire in a commercial center, but you don’t know how many people are hurt, if you will be needed inside to evacuate people or somewhere in or around the building to fight the fire.

It’s your job anyway and you have to do it. You don’t really like the moment just before the action, it makes you nervous. When you are in, you are focused and do your things. Now, while you are finishing your RedBull, your mind is racing.

“Alright Y/L/N?”

“Yeah” you only answer.

Your Commander smirks softly and pat your arm. He knows you very well, he was the one being your instructor during your first months at the fire station. He’s still the one scolding you when you need to be.

Your mind went to Lia when you look at the clock, only to realize that she must be at the end of her training. You were supposed to have a casual night in, but you know that she won’t pout if you are coming home later. She’s way more comprehensive that you had ever hope.

But you aren’t able to think about your girlfriend for too long. Soon you arrive at the commercial center, and you understand that you didn’t understand how chaotic all of this would be. There are ambulances everywhere, people are running around. There are screams, cry, people calling each other. But you have to ignore all of that to stay focused.

You follow the order of your Commander, going to help where he asks you to. When he asks you to manage a team for him, you do it without a second thought. You help the medical teams when they need to, and you help to extinguish the fire when you are called for it.

“Where does it come from?” you ask-shout your Commander at one point.

“We don’t know for now. They are talking about putting some of us inside to find it.”

You nod before focusing on your team again and continue to work. You have lost any idea of the time since you are here, but it doesn’t matter for now. The sky is way less clear when your Commander comes to you again, grabbing your arm to have your attention.

“They ask me to give my best men to go inside the building and look where the fire comes from” he says to you.

You don’t roll your eyes like you would love to, you hate the fact that they are talking about “men” and not “people” or “firefighter”.

“Understood, Sir” you answer with a straight face.

He smiles softy, understanding very easily what you are thinking. But he doesn’t comment it, choosing to continue what he needs to say to you.

“I told them that you were the best. So you will go inside with a team I’ll manage from outside, with talkie walkie and a camera that you will have on your helmet. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir”

He looks at you for several seconds before nodding.

“Take some minutes to rest inside our truck, cool off, drink some water and eat something. Do something to change your mind. I’m coming in twenty minutes to give you your other uniform.”

“Yes, Sir” you answer once again.

He then makes you sign to go, and you oblige. You are happy to take your uniform off, breathing completely some oxygen without smoke. Like he requests, you drink a bottle of water, eat a banana and cereal bare. You use a little bit of water to wash your face and go to the toilets. Then you try to remember what he asked you to do.

Rest, drink water, eat something, change your mind.

You didn’t change your mind.

Biting your lip, you take your phone and wonder some seconds if it’s really a good idea. But then you decide to ignore your thoughts and press the call button.

It rings three times before Lia picks up.

“Hello?”

You have to clear your voice before talking.

“Hi, Cookie. It’s me.”

“Is everything okay?”

You can hear the concern in her voice. Maybe it wasn’t really a good idea to call her, it was probably selfish of you.

“Yeah hum, I will come late at home, I think. Maybe don’t wait for me and go to bed. Or maybe you can go to Leah?”

“She’s not home tonight, but I’ll be fine by myself, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry for cancelling our night.”

“Don’t, it’s ok, really. I understand Pookie. Of course I would rather being with you, but I’m far from mad, yeah?” she says, her voice softer than ever.

You nod and there is a little silence. You would rather for her to be with someone, you know she will be less worried if she’s with one of her friend. You wonder what Lia is thinking about.

“You promise me that everything is fine?” she asks again.

“Yeah, I… I just wanted to hear your voice”

You can’t see your girlfriend, but you are almost sure that she’s rolling her eyes right now. It makes you smile softly.

“Do you remember the only time when you tried to hide me something?”

“Of course I do” you smile.

Flashback

It was stupid of you. Both wanting to hide your injury and your injury itself. It was at the beginning of your relationship with Lia, you were officially together for four months, even if you started dating for six months now.

When you took the call, you didn’t expect things to go that way, to be honest. It was just a fight between two group of teenagers, nothing you couldn’t handle. It’s one of the first things you learned to manage, so you didn’t really thing twice before going and getting involved in this story.

Still while resting at your place, of course, your superiors are here and you won’t take their job.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” your Commander asks some teenagers.

They probably are like 16 or 17, like your little brother. Even if he is probably at school right now.

You hear several of them talking animatedly to him, explaining what the point in this fight is. You don’t understand a lot to be honest, but it seems to be a fight during two groups on the same neighborhood. When they mention that the other group is hiding somewhere and waiting for them, your Commander sighs.

“Ok, I’ll call the police” he says, before turning in your direction. “Y/L/N, Scott, go have a look around please.”

You nod and follow the instructions, looking behind you to be sure that Scott is following you. He is. You don’t mind being in front of the two when you realize after having waited for him that he doesn’t want to be next to you. You don’t care, even if you don’t know really good this place.

You are scanning the area, trying to learn some things from here when someone shout at you from the other side. It seems to you that the voice comes from the height of a building, and you are looking for it before feeling an awful pain next to your ribs.

Several hours later, you are coming home. You groan when you see that Lia’s car is here, meaning that she is waiting for you inside. You are always thrilled to have her, but not tonight. You however put a big smile on your face when she smiles at you when you enter your house.

“Hi, Beautiful” you great her with a big smile and a kiss on her cheek.

She’s sitting on a stool in your kitchen, and you can see that she cooked something behind her. You keep a straight face when she passes her arms around your waist.

“I made us chicken creamy pasta, is that ok?” she asks, following your gaze.

“It’s perfect. Do you mind if I take a shower before eating?”

“Of course not” she smiles.

You kiss her forehead and her lips several times before going to the bathroom adjoining your bedroom. You close the door softly behind you and immediately let yourself go against the door, relieved not to have to hide your pain anymore.

You quickly get rid of your shirt and went to face the mirror. The cut you received while being stabbed earlier today isn’t very deep, but it still hurt like a bitch. You didn’t want to go to the hospital, you gave yourself the care it needed in your opinion, but maybe some painkiller won’t be a bad idea.

You sigh when you realize that you are bleeding again. Scott saw what happened and call your Commander even if you told him not to. You are ashamed of how you got hurt, to be honest. It was a stupid injury made stupidly by a stupid person.

You wince with pain when you press some compress on your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. You still pressing against it while hiding the bloody bandage who were covering your wound until now, not wanting for Lia to find them. You don’t want to worry her. You must have taken way more time than you thought because soon Lia is knocking on the door.

“Are you ok in here?” Lia asks softly.

“Yeah. I’m coming” you answer, grimacing again while putting another bandage on your body.

You really hope that Lia wasn’t thinking about having some naughty activities tonight.

After that you take a very quick shower and went to your room to put some fresh underwear with a jogging and a black top tank, in case you start bleeding again, you won’t scare your girlfriend to death.

“Sorry I took so long” you excuse yourself to Lia when you meet her again in the kitchen.

You pass your arm around her waist this time, very careful not to touch your injury with her body.

“No worries. Should we eat now?”

You nod, trying to help her dress the table but she’s faster than you are. You roll your eyes playfully but let her do it, happy to see her so at ease in your house. It’s pretty early in your relationship but you are so in love with her. You still feel like you need to be careful with her though, not wanting to scare her. She never seemed to be against your job, but you both decided that you will not talk to her about what you are seeing during your days. At first you thought that it was because she will be maybe disgusted by things, but you realized some weeks before that it was because she is scared for you.

“It’s delicious Babe” you praise her.

You smile when you see her blushing and you grab her hand softly to intervenes your fingers. You ask her about her day and listen to her with attention. You met her friends some time ago and you are able to put a face on every name. You have to admit that you go to watch her play every time you can too.

After the dinner you decided to watch a movie and let Lia chose something. Cuddling with her is usually your favorite moment of the day, but you realize very quickly that you will have trouble to find a good position.

You finally pass your leg on Lia’s, your hand around her stomach and put your face on her shoulder. All of that while she’s sitting with her leg extended on the long part of your L couch.

“Comfy?” she asks.

You nod and don’t see her smile because of your position, but you feel her kiss your head, and you rub your face softly against her hoody. During the movie, you can feel her fingertip drawing the tattoos on your arm and for once you really want for her to keep her arm here. She just has to pass it under your tank and you’re screwed.

“You’re tense, Pookie” she whispers when there only is twenty minutes of the movie.

“Am I?”

You are. You are a ball of nerves and when Lia hums before searching your lips for a kiss it’s even worse. But you kiss her softly, stroking her face with your thumb.

“It just was a long day” you say before kissing her cheek and resume your position.

Lia doesn’t push it, holding your tighter against her. Your injury is pounding and you can’t wait to take another painkiller, stronger this one maybe. You didn’t went to the hospital, so you don’t have any prescriptions. You try to steady your breathing, jaw a little more tense than usual.

It’s a relief when the movie is finished, but you can’t jump on your feet and just run to the bathroom. In fact, the make out session you have with Lia after it almost make you forget your state. Until you see your girlfriend frown softly.

“Why are you wet here?” she frowns, looking at your stomach.

You frown too and automatically put a hand where your wound is. Fuck. Your tank is indeed damp. And when you remove your hand, it’s red.

“Y/N?! What the fuck!”

You don’t know if you are more stunned about the blood or your girlfriend’s dirty word.

Long story short, she takes you to the hospital without you saying anything. She scowled you for almost ten minutes after you saw the doctor and you felt like a little child. But since that moment, you never hide this kind of things to her.

“I’m not lying though, I really just wanted to hear your voice” you point softly.

Lia hums before talking again.

“Are you at the fire station?”

“No”

“Are… Are you at the commercial center?”

“Y/N!”

You jump when you hear your commander’s voice. You turn to see him coming for you. Was it twenty minutes already?

“I have to go, Cookie. See you soon yeah?”

“Yes. Be safe, please?”

“Promise. I love you, Lia.”

“I love you too.”

You hang up and raise your eyes on your commander. He’s smirking at you but doesn’t say anything. He likes Lia a lot, they met several times, and he told you that you couldn’t have found a better match. You are agreeing with him about it. Lia has everything you were looking for.

“You could have said to here I say hi.”

“I will next time, Sir.”

You are smiling softly too. It’s probably the first time since you left the fire station. It finally was a good thing to have call her, you feel a little more focused and calmer. You follow your Chief where you are waited and start to take the instructions. What you have to do is clear in your mind.

You take the lead of the other firefighters and go inside the mall. Everything is blurry and probably hot, but you don’t feel anything thanks to your new uniform.

Following what was told to you, you advance slowly but are looking around for your safety and of course, you have to find where the fire comes from. You don’t see anything for now, the fire is on another level. After sharing this information, you go to the floor above you.

You take some minutes there too, the heath is getting hotter and you are sure that you are getting closer to the source of the problem. There is only the sound of the fire, but it was until a shrill whistle catch your attention.

“Wait. They cutted the gas, right?” you ask around to the four other men who are with you.

“They told us they did” one of them confirms you.

“Please ask for a confirmation. Until you have it, don’t move.”

The man who answered you take his talkie-walkie to exchanged with the team outside while you take the direction of the sound. It really sounds like a gas leak but it’s hard to find the right place with all the other noises around. You are so concentrated that you almost jump out your skin when you hear one of the men calling you.

“Y/L/N we have to get out! They forgot that part of the building!”

At the same time, you find the source of the whistle, and it doesn’t look good.

Shit.

“I’m fine for fuck’s sake, leave me alone!”

You are sitting on a hospital bed, an oxygen mask on your face and two doctors around you, trying to make you hear reason. Your Commander is here too, seeming to have the time of his life.

“Miss, please lie down” one of them says.

You groan in exasperation. You were still inside the building when the explosion happens, but you aren’t hurt. You breathed gas though and that’s why you are here. But you just want to go home.

Your Commander push on your shoulder to make you oblige, what you do before pressing your finger against your eyebrows. You are going to explode too.

“Don’t worry, her girlfriend is coming, she will behave way more better with her around” your Commander says at your doctors with an unmissable amazement in his voice.

“Lia’s coming?” you raise your head.

“The team called her.”

Great. A good new, at last. If they tell you that you have to stay here for the night, you might lose it. In fact, the promise of Lia’s coming is enough for you to cool off a little. You don’t have your phone with you, so you weren’t able to inform her about what happened yourself.

You let the medical team do their job, even if you keep a scold on your face all the process.

Lia arrives several minutes after, knocking softly on the door. She looks worried and you frown. What did your team say to her? She seems relieved to see you sitting on the bed, even if your Commander put a hand on you to keep you from getting up when you try.

“Good evening Lia. I’ll let you alone” he says, smiling warmly at your girlfriend.

Lia greats him back, before turning in your direction when he leaves the room. It’s passed midnight now and she’s usually already asleep. She seems exhausted and worried.

“I’m fine” you say when she reaches you.

Lia doesn’t answer anything, but you can see her scanning every part of your body visible with this awful hospital dress.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

You shake your head for only answer, adding a “I swear” when she looks at you with skepticism. Your discussion earlier comes back in your mind, and you take her hand in yours before talking again. It’s going to be hard not to tell her everything but still enough for her to stop worrying.

“I breathed some gas and my oxygen level was a little low” you explain. “They wanted me here to be sure that my body was recovering correctly.”

“Wait, were you inside the commercial center?”

You don’t know how she knows that, but after you remember that she might have listened the radio or something while coming to see you. So you just nod and shrug before talking again.

“We were almost outside when it exploded” you admit. “The team forgot to cut the gas where we were but when we learned that we get out as soon and quickly as possible.”

You can see panic in Lia’s eyes and that’s exactly what you don’t want. What if she leaves you because she’s too scared about your job? You won’t recover from this; you would rather explode with a building.

“But you’re fine, yes?” she asks finally.

“I am. I promise, Cookie.”

She nods softly before hugging you. At least. You can feel your body totally relax against hers and you close your eyes, hiding your face in her neck. Her smell, the heath of her body, everything from her is comforting for you.

“Thanks for being careful and coming back to me” she says after several times.

“Every time” you mumble back. “As long as you are not tired of me”

“Never.”

She squeeze you against her and you take advantage of your position to hide your face in her breast, before she kiss your forehead.

You are suddenly very tired, but it has nothing to do with the gas this time. Now that Lia is here, you feel good again. She’s stroking your neck with her fingertips, and you kiss hers several times, smiling softly when you see the goosebumps on her skin.

“I’m so in love with you, Li” you whisper softly.

She slowly and tenderly takes your face between her hands to kiss you tenderly. You kiss her back, of course.

“I love you too, so much” she whispers against your lips before pecking them several more times.

Still smiling, you let her. You would never refuse her a kiss anyway. After that she keeps your face in her hands and look at you closely.

“You look tired. You should probably sleep.”

“Stay with me?”

“Of course.”

In fact, you managed to take her with you in your bed, cuddling against her body with a sigh of relief. Maybe you can stay here after all, if Lia is here.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #lia wälti imagine #lia walti imagine #lia wälti x reader #lia walti x reader #lia walti #lia wälti

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olderthannetfic · 9 months ago

Note

Now I'm wondering how countries like Japan and China teach literacy.

Since kanji / hanzi don't really have that much in the way of phonetic elements, they kinda have to teach them by memorization and I don't think they have many reading comprehension problems over there.

(Although both countries do have supplementary phonetic writing systems in the form of bopomofo and pinyin for China, and the kanas for Japan)

FAVORITE SOAPBOX TOPIC UNLOCKED!

RELEASE THE KRAKEN!

It's a little closer to teaching vocabulary than spelling, but the same kinds of principles apply: You teach the building blocks, like the traditional radicals, which aren't so different from teaching Latin and Greek roots in an English class for English speakers.

And, as a matter of fact, lots of those radicals do predict pronunciation, just not in every single case. They can also be clues to meaning, but again, not absolutely consistently. Many characters have a sound-cueing radical on one side and a meaning-cueing radical on the other. It's just that only some are still useful in the modern day, while others are more like the English word 'plumbing' where knowledge of Roman lead pipes explains why this word comes from the one for lead, but the root probably wouldn't help a kid learn the word in the first place.

One similarity to teaching phonics would be teaching students to tell very complicated and similar characters apart: you want to help a student spot all the little building blocks of the character and then spot the ones that are different, not just glance at the whole character and get a general overall vibe. If you do a whole look-based approach, too many characters are too easy to mistake for one another.

Remembering a bajillion Chinese characters is hard if you're trying to memorize them in a year and not all of elementary school, but I think people who don't read them underestimate how many component parts there are and how approachable they can be if you start by learning fundamentals, not just memorizing a few individual characters as though they have no relation to anything else.

They're actually pretty systematic, just in the way that English spelling is with its overlapping systems and historical artifacts, not in the way that highly regular Spanish spelling is.

Having taken a lot of Japanese classes, I will say that Japanese as a foreign language textbooks often do a piss poor job of this and totally do teach kanji in a sight words-y way... But my Mandarin class started with important foundational concepts that served me well in Japanese later even if I bombed out of Chinese class at the time.

Can you tell how irritated I am by all the foreign language learners who think characters are sooooo hard when, really, it's just their crappy textbook? Haha.

They're moderately hard in the way that learning a full adult spectrum of vocabulary is hard, but people do that for foreign languages all the time. The countries that use characters do tend to make sets that are smaller for certain kinds of applications, same as we have things like simple English wikipedia, but a literate adult will always know lots more, whether it's from their career in engineering or their predilection for historical romance novels.

Uh... anyway, the answer is "Bit by bit in elementary school, just like in any other country".

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 month ago

Text

Feeling Unwell

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: 1740

CW: Angst, illness, mentions of hospitals, satirical hatred of children, fluff, spencer being the best

a/n: Some fluff to bring you a brief intermission to your Kinktober readings.

Spencer Masterlist

The worst feeling in the world is waking up with a headache.

Your head felt like a dance floor where ballerinas were doing their petit allegro warm ups, and there was no mercy. Every single sound filled your unopened eyes with fluff from a stuffed animal.

The second worst feeling in the world was realizing that you couldn’t breathe through your nose, almost suffocating yourself from trying.

“Maybe a tissue would help.”

Not even opening your eyes, you use your hand to shove some part of your husband, playful, but grumpily.

“Thanks, genius.” You grumbled, and curled further into yourself, yanking the blanket over with you.

The man next to you let out a small, unserious, exclamation as the blanket that was once covering him was single-handedly yanked from his body.

“Well good morning to you too.”

You felt as he sat up, and properly woke up; most likely running his hands through his hair and putting on his glasses.

Spencer then placed a hand on your hip, leaning over and kissing your head. “Morning baby.”

But before he could pull away, the heat coming off of your forehead was alarming, even to him.

The feeling of his lips on your head was momentary bliss, even if it was psychosomatic. Anything Spencer did for you (or to you, if you know what I mean…) always felt good. Being cared for in a genuine way was a true testament to how much people can benefit from love: emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and yes, even physically.

Spencer gently brushed aside some of the hair covering your temple, and kissed it again, this time with the full intent of taking your temperature.

“Can I help you?”

“Does your head hurt?”

You snorted, but winced as you did, since you didn’t actually cause any sound. Your sinuses were so blocked up, that you ended up making your headache ten times worse.

And that was when the coughing started.

Not being able to breathe through your nose meant that your chest already ached, but then all of a sudden you couldn’t breathe at all. Your ears both popped, and you could have sworn there was a constant ringing in your right ear. The coughing got worse before it got better, and it only got better because Spencer had jumped out of bed, run into the kitchen in just his briefs, and grabbed a glass of water for you to try and force down your throat.

“Alright. We’re going to the doctors.”

A moan of protest left your lips and as you moved to lay back down in the warmth of your own bed, where you could be unbothered by this random man who was insisting that you needed to get up, and go in public.

“I know, I know baby.” He was now sitting on the edge of your side of the bed, and was running his thumb along your forehead. Your body involuntarily curled itself around his, and you sighed.

“It’s like you hate me, and you want—”

A cough ripped through your sentence and your throat.

If someone was walking by, they might have guessed that you were a chainsmoker of thirty years; a chimney of a woman.

But, unfortunately, you had your guesses about where this mystery illness had come from.

“Spence.” You managed to croak out.

He hadn’t left your side, still rubbing his thumb across your head. “Yeah baby.”

“I think that stupid twerp gave me his illness.”

Spencer chuckled. “Who are you talking about?”

“Remember…” You scooted impossibly closer to him, now able to rest your head on his thigh. “Remember that kid from the last case, the one who ended up having to go into the doctors because he was sick. I’d fucking…”

You paused, trying to catch your breath as you spoke.

If you had to bet money, you’d place your entire net worth–plus your home and all your earthly possessions– that Spencer Reid was some sort of god from beyond comprehension since he was just sitting here, patiently waiting for you to finish your thought, even though it was taking you minutes to spit out one sentence.

“He must’ve had some sort of stupid…stupid sickness. And I blame Hotch for making me be the one to sit with the kid.”

Spencer hummed, a sign of support for your theory.

“If that fucking kid gave me pneumonia or some shit—I’m gonna find him—”

“Alright there trigger happy.” He cut you off and kissed your head again. “I know it’s going to suck so much ass, but we need to go to urgent care because your cough and fever are really starting to worry me.”

“Who the hell even gets pneumonia in the summer anyways.” You grumbled to yourself, and you rolled onto your back, and slowly sat up; Spencer’s hand on your thigh the entire time.

An anchor as your head sloshed around with illness.

“I bet I look like a biblical depiction of famine.”

That made Spencer crack a smile.

“Glad you feel good enough to joke around about it.”

“I actually feel like death. That kid’s made worms’ meat of me.”

Spencer stood up, face filled with amusement. “Alright Shakespeare.”

You took his hand and slowly stood up. Eyes closed as the slight change in altitude made your eardrums pulse, and your head starts to spin.

“Tomorrow you’ll find me a grave man.” You grumbled, leaning up against Spencer as the world decided to speed up its rotation by about a million.

“I cannot believe you’re quoting Shakespeare at me while you can’t even stand up right now.”

You cracked a smile, eyes still closed. “I’ve always liked Mercutio—a man making puns even as he’s dying—that’s my kinda guys.”

After standing still, in silence, for the next two minutes, you were able to open your eyes and look over at Spencer. “I love you.”

It was soft, but earnest.

How lucky were you to have someone who just spent the past fifteen minutes patiently waiting by your side, to get you out of bed so he could take you to the doctors office because you weren’t feeling well. He could have just let you stew in bed, and take the day to be ill at your home. But instead, he sat with you, got you water when you almost died first thing in the morning, and now is your literal crutch as you move to the bathroom, so you could at least brush your teeth.

You’ll be damned if you don’t at least brush your teeth before going out in public.

The thought of it almost made you feel worse than what you were feeling now.

You were awake enough that your body was starting to fight the illness in real time, meaning Spencer had left your side to quickly get dressed.

He was back by your side a few minutes later, letting you take your time in the bathroom with your morning routine. In his hands was one of your favorite crewnecks to lounge around the house in, and the matching sweatpants. Snoopy around the ankle, and Snoopy and Woodstock across your chest. Something about the Peanuts characters being there made them a little bit comfier.

“You’re going to deck me out in Snoopy to go to Urgent Care?”

Spencer nodded and placed them on the counter. “If we end up being there for a while, you’d die in a pair of jeans. Don’t even try to pretend like you were going to put a bra on either”

“How did a girl get so lucky?” You hummed, and leaned against him again. His arms wrapping around you as your body relaxed every so slightly.

“I have several degrees, including three Phds. That makes me a doctor, and as such, I’m educated well enough to know the perfect woman when I see her. Anyone who doesn’t agree with me, clearly doesn’t have the degree to back up their points.”

You squeezed him briefly, before pulling away slightly, still encircled in his arms. “We;; Doctor Reid, I can’t argue with a professional. But I must say, your professional opinion is skewed.”

Spencer kissed your head and shrugged. He went to say some sort of snarky rebuttal, but you interrupted him with yet another coughing fit.

You had never been to the Sahara desert before, but you could assume this is what it felt like if you were in the middle of it and had accidentally swallowed gallons of sand while the driest wind passed through you.

Spence just rubbed his hand along your back, waiting for the fit to end.

Once it had, your body had started to lose some of the initial fervor you had managed to gain from waking up. “Spence, I think I need to just lay down for a while…”

“No.” He shook his head. “You have to put those clothes on and then we’re going to the doctor. I know you want to lay down babygirl, but the sooner we get you medicated, the better.”

Then he started to talk about breakfast, and your stomach lurched. “The thought of food makes me want to die. It’s not happening right now.”

Spencer went to speak but you cut him off. “Babe. I will get dressed, and we can go to the hospital, but I’m not hungry. I’m not going to eat, and you’re not going to force me because the thought makes me feel even worse. Deal?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Deal Spence?”

Spencer just looked at you, and his resolve crumbled a bit. This was your best effort as a compromise. Every single atom you were comprised of made you want to collapse to the ground and enjoy the feeling of no longer being upright. But you were trying for him. He just had to compromise.

“Deal.” He sighed. “We’re leaving in five okay?”

“Aye Aye captain.” You placed a kiss on his cheek, not wanting to spread whatever you had to his lungs, and grabbed your clothes.

Eventually, when you later found out that the kid witness from the previous case had given you viral pneumonia, your resentment for the little twerp grew even more, even resulting in a statement that you were

“Never going to fucking have kids ever.”

The statement made Spencer laugh as the two of you drove back home, meds in hand, and fresh hatred of ‘snot nosed children’ in the air.

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disregardcanon · 6 months ago

Note

this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

#anons #writing things #ao3 things #the case for commenting

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writertothemaximum · 6 months ago

Note

Yuuji with a tall (pushing it at 198cm) scary transfer student from America who's kind of a punk but he's sweet sometimes (mainly only to yuuji) perchance?🧐(N/sfw)

ヤンキー・Yankee: Pt. I

Yuuji x tall delinquent male reader

content // Reader comes from a strict American family, canon-typical violence, reader is a juju tech transfer student, reader is a bit depressed, Reader is smitten™️, (yuuji is too), very wholesome, pre-relationship

note // read part two here! (nsfw)

-When your family moved to Tokyo for “business” related reasons, nothing could have prepared you for the culture shock. The language was one thing, but there were all these social customs that were just implied. No one said anything bluntly to your face, even if they did speak comprehensible English, which a lot of people did. Was it because you were an outsider? Was it because you were American?

-Maybe because of this, you found the life of delinquency easy. Maybe it was because you were 6’6” and no one was going to fuck with a dude twice their height, because nothing meant a quick trip to the hospital like getting into a fight with you.

-But people did. And you busted their faces in. It’s what they deserved. One time you broke your fist on someone’s nose. It was worth it. You got suspended and grounded by your parents, but so what? You never provoked people, they just came at you, and it was within your right to defend yourself. Isolation wasn’t caused by ostracization, it was caused by defense, and in your opinion, there was a lot to be defended.

-One day, your parents told you that you were getting transferred to a select school a little bit outside the city. A strange man (who was surprisingly close to your height) came by the house, offered to fist-fight you, and for the first time in your life, you got your ass whipped.

-It was a this point that you realized that the “imaginary friends” you had been seeing since childhood were called “curses,” and that maybe there was a place in the world for your violence. It had just been an outlet, maybe now you had a purpose.

-Very quickly, you realized that Jujutsu Tech also wasn’t home. A part of you wondered if anywhere in Japan could be. Before you were even given your own dorm room, you were sent with another student for a “trial run.” He didn’t talk to you much, and it took two hours into the thing before you even learned his name. It was like your parents had sent you to military school, and in a sense, they did.

-That was until you met Yuuji.

-Yuuji wasn’t like the other students. In many ways, he was like you. To no surprise, many of the students at Jujutsu Tech were also former delinquents, Megumi included—But Yuuji was different. He had blood on his hands, but there was no way you could tell. From the moment you met, he actively talked to you, tried to get to know you, treated you with respect, that’s just how he treated everyone, that was Itadori Yuuji.

-It’s not like no one had ever given you the kindness of humanity before, but Yuuji was different. Why wasn’t he afraid of you? Why wasn’t he intimidated? Maybe he was and he just never let it on, maybe it was because he’d beaten up kids just like you when he was in middle school, you didn’t really know. But it wasn’t just that. He was sweet he was funny he was kind. You were a friend, just like anyone else.

-Yuuji liked watching foreign films, and would invite you to go watch them in the city if any theaters had showings (and since it was Tokyo, they almost always did). After the movie, the two of you’d walk around and discuss what you liked, what you didn’t. One time, Yuuji asked about your home. He asked if you missed it, and a part of you did. A lot of you did. You didn’t talk to your friends anymore since everything had changed. Would they even believe you, anyways? Fighting monsters, living in what felt like another world?

-Yuuji understood you, he always did. That’s what’s so charming about him, is that he can feel what you’re feeling. At that time, he gave you a hug, and told you that he can’t send you home, but he can do his best to make Tokyo your new one. Maybe there’d be a piece of home here, maybe you could find a quiet spot, surrounded by the greenery of your youth, and the two of you could sit and chat while the memories flooded in.

-That was the first time you had cried since you moved abroad, and you vowed to make it your last. Somehow, Itadori Yuuji had weaved into your heart, and you weren’t about to give him up anytime soon.

If you liked this story, please give the post a reblog, or send me another request :)

Thanks for reading!

// read part two here! (nsfw)

#yuuji x you #yuuji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #itadori x reader #male reader #w2tmhcs

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trippinsorrows · 1 month ago

Note

https://x.com/hourlyroman/status/1844540517222129691?s=46

https://x.com/mindfulofmani/status/1844563126622032232?s=46

found these tweets on my tl and they give ltye 😩 like the second tweet just said

sitting in his chair in his office, staring with a blank yet killersome expression, roman is annoyed. granted, one could argue that he's always annoyed, and maybe he is.

but, it's only because people are fucking idiots who lack reading comprehension as well as the ability to follow basic instructions.

and he hates that shit. hates when someone's fuck up requires his intervention.

that's usually when said someone ends up hurt. or dead.

but, this time around, both of the prior options, typical for him, are pushed all the way from his mind with the tentative knock on his office door.

immediately sitting up in his chair, roman calls out, "come in."

and as soon as the door open, the fluffiness of dulce speeds by, the dimwitted puppy rushing over to him with all the excitement only to settle herself into the bed that at some point got moved to his office. he might or might not have been the one to do it on a day where all her damn whining was getting so bothersome that he just placed her by him so she'd shut up.

and from that day on, she seems to have the impression that this is also another room where she can settle her lazy ass in the overpriced bed and lounge the day away.

but his brief irritation with the unemployed squatter is again washed away by soft, thick thighs and an innocent smile. roman's gaze easily falls to solana's shapely legs that are on full display in her short little dress.

if there's one thing he'll acknowledge he owes naomi and bayley credit for, it'll always be their dedication in helping solana dress more confidently, cause goddamn.

"you don't have to knock, solana." roman has told her this several times before, and yet every time, she approaches him like she's everyone else. like she needs to be cautious and tentative.

she shrugs, walking over, explaining. "i just don't want to interrupt if you're in a meeting or something."

"doesn't matter," is his easy dismissal as he reaches for her. grabbing her by her hips, he tugs her close, plopping her down in her rightful spot. on his lap. "seeing and speaking to you is better than any damn meeting."

roman can practically see the shy smile on her pretty face as he peppers his lips over her shoulder. "you okay?"

she nods. "are you busy?" he sighs against her, feeling the way she tenses at his reaction. "solana, how many times do i have to tell you that i'm never too busy for you? you need something, just tell me."

she looks over at him, roman both hating and appreciating the way she shifts on his lap. this dress is nice and all, but all that ass she has moving on his dick like that doesn't do anything to help his resolve and desire to prop her up on his desk and fuck her until his name is the only thing she knows how to say.

"i know, i just.....it's kind of silly." she shrugs.

"it's not." he doesn't even know what it is. doesn't need to know. he just knows her being dismissive of it is a good indication that it's not anything frivolous. "tell me."

roman watches the way she opens and closes her mouth at least twice. overthinking. she's gotten a lot better with it, but there's still room for growth.

"i was......i was wondering if–if we–" she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "if we could go out to dinner again sometime." roman is slightly taken back. of all the things, he wasn't expecting that. "i don't mind cooking. i really don't, but–it was really nice that time we went, even though i know you were upset jimmy interfered."

it's nearly impossible for roman to hide his scowl at the memory of that. not the dinner. she's right. that part was nice. just the part where his annoying ass cousin snooped his nose in business that didn't involve him. that's what has roman rolling his eyes.

solana giggles at his expression, and it's music to his ears. an appreciated sight and gift on a relatively stressful day. as per usual with any interaction with her.

she always seems to make him feel better. whether she realizes it or not. whether she's trying to or not. it's just her gift in this life, it seems. her.

she's his gift.

solana continues, anging her body toward him, roman relaxing even more when she moves her hands around his neck. "so maybe if you look at your calender and see a date that works–"

"tonight." roman cuts her off. "let's go tonight."

her jaw drops, and again, he has to push inappropriate thoughts away. "but–but, you have work."

"i always have work, sol." and he always will. "shit can wait." the world won't end because roman decides to take a night off to take his fine ass wife out to dinner. "we'll go tonight. i'll have a restaurant cleared for us."

she pouts. and yet again, more self-restriction. "but, what about the other people? we can dine with oth–"

"fuck them." his interruption is said with all the seriousness. "i don't give a damn about them. they can do something else."

roman stands up, chuckling at solana's gasp as she tightens her hold onto him. it's brief movement. barely anything. he simply sets her on his desk, scooting her back just enough for where he needs her.

"my wife wants to go to dinner, so i'm taking her to dinner." he continues, solana smiling as he kisses on her neck and moves his hands under her dress, hands messing with the waistband of her underwear.

"roman....." it's a hard groan to suppress. he'll never get tired of hearing his name come out of her mouth. especially when it's breathy and needy. "what–this is your office."

"mmmhmm." he starts tugging, helping her lift her ass off the desk just enough for him to pull them off. her expression is damn near priceless as she watches him stuff them into his pocket. "and?"

"i–this is im–mportant." her stuttering increases as his fingers gloss over lips, nectar already starting to pool just from his light touches. "we ca–" she stops, gripping him by his shoulders when he dips a finger inside her tight little hole.

"yes, it is." roman's dick twitches in his pants watching the way her head falls back, her mouth open before she bites down on her bottom lip. "you want me to stop?"

he will. always will. if that's what she wants.

but, it's not, and he knows it. it's confirmed with how she shakes her head no, taking him by surprise when her cheeks redden, and she makes a surprising but pleasant request of her own. "your....your mouth."

fuck. roman hovers his lips over the top of her breast, fighting temptation to rid her of the dress altogether. "where do you want my mouth?"

she whines underneath him, and he smiles. he's patient with her but never shies away from the opportunity to help her grow with her confidence. with her assertiveness regarding what she wants and how she wants it.

she swallows, answering in a quiet voice. "o–on me."

roman can admit his next act, curling his finger inside of her, watching her arch off the desk, is borderline cruel. definitely teasing. "it is, baby."

"roman," another whine followed by her shifting on the desk, hand moving down to his bicep. "p–please."

another chuckle as he navigates his thumb near her clit. "please what?" he's not really expecting her to say it, recognizes it may be too soon. that she's not there just yet, but it doesn't stop him from trying.

he's just as pleased when she moves her hand to the top of his head and starts to push down, clearly guiding him to where she wants him. his smirk grows as he takes over, climbing on his knees and pushing her dress up to her waist. he's certain pre-cum spills from his dick at the sight of her pussy. pretty and glistening. just for him. always for him.

"that's my girl."

-------

the photos inspired me, friend 😭😭😭😭

#ari answers #ltye ask #ltye short

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floralcavern · 8 months ago

Text

My opinion on the IDF

(Because, yes, despite me being Pro-Israel, I still have ✨thoughts✨)

People need to stop comparing the I/P conflict to the Holocaust. It is nothing like the Holocaust and Israel is nothing like Germany. And you making that comparison really shows how little you actually know about WW2. Read any history book. Read Anne Frank, or Night. In fact, the closest thing to the Holocaust that is happening in this war is what is happening to the Israeli hostages. They are under way more of those conditions.

No. If we are to ever compare this to any other war, it is more similar to the Vietnam War.

The IDF is very similar to US soldiers in Vietnam.

Look. We can all agree that US was on the right side of Vietnam. They were helping the Southern Vietnamese from the Northern Vietnamese. So when you hear “They were on the right side/good side” you automatically think they were the good guys. Wonderful heroes. And, yes, Vietnam veterans were heroes. But they did some fucked up shit.

For example, according to one veteran, one time when one of his friends had been murdered, out of anger, they all burned an entire town down. US soldiers took out a lot of their frustrations and anger onto the Vietnamese. So while we all agree that they are on the right side and are the good guys, they did some fucked up shit. Stuff that cannot be excused at all.

Another example is in WW2! We all think of the allies as the good guys! They fought against the terrible Nazis and yadada. America was on the good side, they were one of the main sides that took down Germany! So while we acknowledge that America was the right side the be on, we cannot forget the horrible things they did. For example..

They had Japanese concentration camps.

Bet you didn’t know that.

The reason for this was because the amount of violence they saw and experienced was involved with Japan. They were traumatized but it is no excuse to do something like that!

America was the right side, but they weren’t the perfect military.

No military is perfect!!!!!!!!!!!

That includes the IDF.

But here’s the thing, on the side of the ‘good guys’, usually when there’s extremely violent people in the military, there are usually two reasons for this.

They have experienced horrors beyond comprehension while fighting on the battlefield, causing them to become jaded and bitter

2. They were always a violent person and they joined the war to take that out onto others.

It is the tragic reality that every single military has people like this. It is history. The historical ‘good guys’ did horrible things as well.

That brings me back to the Vietnam War.

The soldiers saw so many horrible things that could actually compare very well to what the IDF has seen.

US soldiers had no way to tell if a citizen was Northern Vietnamese or Southern Vietnamese.

Usually by the time they learned, it was too late.

There are stories of US soldiers having a Vietnamese child come up to them, holding something. About to give them a gift! But when they opened their hand, they were holding a grenade.

That is so similar to what Hamas is doing. They use suicide bombers and child soldiers. Things like that will create an idea of they can’t trust anyone. Anyone could be out to hurt them and there’s the idea of almost animalistic fighting for survival. How can you trust when Hamas could literally send a child out to kill you?!

So, really, if you think about it, the US soldiers of the Vietnam War are very similar to the IDF.

That sense of they can’t trust anyone, violence due to the trauma and being surrounded by enemies trying to do the same fucking thing (hell, Hamas has been committing terrorist attacks on Israel for years now). Even what the two sides fight for are somewhat similar!

The US fought to help the Southern Vietnamese and gain freedom from their Northern neighbors. Israel is fighting for freedom from their neighbors who are constantly attacking them and freeing Palestinians from their oppressive government.

It starts out virtuous and those ideas do carry on for the most part, but it also dissolves into animalistic violence and anger because of the shit they have seen.

Also, the way US Vietnam soldiers were treated in America is actually really similar to how Americans treat the IDF.

Nowadays when we meet a Vietnam veteran, we comment on how brave they are and how they’re a hero. Back then, though? Ohhhhh boy. Americans hated them. When soldiers would come home, Americans would yell at them, spit on them, etc. Now, doesn’t that sound familiar?

So, TLDR;

I support Israel and I support the IDF in the same way I support America in WW2 and the Vietnam War. They’re on the right side and have virtuous intent, but they sure as hell aren’t perfect and have done some fucked up shit. Yknow. Like every other military in the world. The sad reality we live in. Not everything is black and white.

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wildernessuntothemselves · 1 year ago

Text

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 1

Word Count: 5.9k

Genre: smut, angst

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again.

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous.

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before?

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams.

Warnings: fucking on furniture, orgasm control, premature ejaculation, masturbation, PIV sex, toxic relationships.

“Stay home” Beomgyu holds you from behind, kissing your neck

“We can’t. I’ve canceled on them too many times now.” You whine. Beomgyu keeps doing this. Every time you try to hang out with your friends he pouts and whines until you stay home with him. It was cute at first–how he couldn’t get enough of you–but now your friends are actually getting pissed at the both of you.

“But I missed you.” You can feel his pout on your skin as his lips brush over it.

“We hang out every day. We live together!” You protest, but you’re unable to keep the chuckle from your voice.

“I know but that’s not what I mean.” He mumbles cryptically and you turn your head towards him. “Then what do you mean?”

He flushes and buries his face in the crook of your neck so you wouldn’t see him. “Never mind. It’s stupid”

You grab his long hair, gently lifting his head up so you can lock eyes with him. “No, tell me.”

He lets out a shaky sigh. “It’s just… you ever feel like you and someone else are two halves of the same soul and you’ve spent and will spend all your lifetimes trying to reunite with them and when you finally do, you just can’t bear to let go?”

You’re rendered speechless by his impassioned, if self-conscious, speech because it captured exactly what you’ve always felt about him but was too scared to say in case you scare him off.

You met Beomgyu while at work at the coffee shop at the local mall around christmas time last year. You spotted this adorable guy in front of your store dressed in the most ridiculous teddy bear sweater you’ve ever seen, collecting donations to buy toys for the kids at the local shelters. You fell for him at first sight and wherever he’d show up, you’d spend your entire shift stealing glances at him to the point that even your coworkers noticed. You couldn’t get over how sweet what he was doing was and you so badly wanted to go up to him and tell him that but you didn’t want to come across as a weirdo. It was only after your coworkers’ incessant nagging that you finally mustered up the courage to go up to him, hot drink in hand, offering it to him and telling him how much you admired what he was doing and how cute he his sweater was.

The conversation flowed much more easily than you could have ever anticipated–almost like you two were meant to be–and from then on it became your daily routine to bring him a cup of coffee during your break and have a chat with him until you were yelled at by your boss for taking too long.

And when Christmas day was fast approaching and the both of you knew he wouldn’t be there much longer, a snarky comment from your boss finally brought the two of you together and forced you to get over your trepidation.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. She likes you. He likes you. She finishes her shift at 6. Come pick her up. She likes sunflowers.”

And that is how you and Beomgyu started dating.

“Well now I can't go.” You lament, and he smiles radiantly, victorious.

God your friends are gonna be so mad.

But it’s hard to think about that when his lips are attached to your neck, sucking at your most sensitive spots as he grinds his dick into your ass.

“You look so sexy in that dress.” He murmurs wantonly, groping your tits coarsely over said dress.

“Careful or you’re gonna blow your load on my ass.” You tease, referring to the first time you two got intimate. He was so excited then that he ended up cumming just from a little grinding. He’s lucky he’s so cute and that you found his enthusiasm endearing because if any other guy had cum so prematurely like that, you would’ve probably kicked his ass out the door. But also he ended up eating you out for the rest of the night until your legs turned into jelly to make it up to you, so it wasn’t too bad.

Beomgyu pulls your dress down over your tits so he can play with them directly as he sucks on the skin of your neck, and you can feel your arousal begin to build up between your legs.

"Beomgyu…"

"My sensitive baby." He chuckles, index fingers flicking your nipples. You squeeze your thighs together in need and push your ass back against his cock pointedly. "Fuck me, Beomgyu."

It doesn’t take much prompting to get Beomgyu to give in. He has always been needy for you and today was no different. He pushes you against the table, flipping the skirt of your dress up and pulling your underwear out of the way before he pushes himself inside you, filling you up so perfectly as if he was made for you.

“Oh, Beomgyu…” You gasp, clawing at the wooden surface of the table. This is hardly new to you. Beomgyu has fucked you on every surface of this house, many times. He's insatiable. He just can't get enough of you, and neither you him.

“Baby, I don’t think I will last long.” He grunts into your ear and you chuckle breathlessly. “Of course not. You never could resist my pussy, huh?”

“No.” He shakes his head, driving his cock into you harshly.

“Then cum. Show me how much you need me.”

“Fuck, I do. I do, baby.” He groans, pressing his hips flush against your ass as he empties his seed inside of you.

“Well, that was quick.” You giggle when he catches his breath and he whines, flipping you over on your back and pulling your thighs up against your body. You know what’s coming next. Beomgyu can never leave you unsatisfied and when he finishes too early like this he usually makes it up to you by giving you the best oral of your life.

But when he sees his cum dripping out of your swollen pussy, he stops and stares, almost hypnotized by the sight, and a far away look takes over his face.

"What?" You ask, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Nothing."

“Do you like seeing me dripping with your seed? Are you thinking of knocking me up?” You tease, and his head snaps up to look at you at a neck-breaking speed, a horrified look on his face.

Fuck, did you read the situation wrong? Why did you say that? You don’t know why you said that!

Actually you do. You had another one of your dreams today–the ones where Beomgyu is a prince and you’re a lady at court and you’re in love. Beomgyu doesn’t like hearing about them much. He calls them silly and always brushes them off, not wanting to hear about them. But his lack of enthusiasm doesn’t stop you from having them, and each one feels more real than the other, as if it had actually happened. As if you were recalling memories of a previous life. And the latest dream was no different.

"Our children are not going to want for anything.” Dream Beomgyu says, hand splayed protectively over your tummy.

“What?” Real-life Beomgyu sputters, and you explain yourself shyly, sitting up and covering yourself as you chuckle nervously. “I just… I had a dream that I was pregnant with your baby. You know, when you were a prince…”

But Beomgyu doesn’t share your laughter. His face immediately hardens and his reaction this time surpasses mere distaste and veers into anger.. “I was never a prince. None of your dreams ever happened. They’re just meaningless dreams. Don’t be stupid.”

"Stupid?" You draw back at the sudden outburst.

"Yes. The whole prince thing is stupid. You need to get out of your head and come back to reality. The whimsical, superstitious act is not cute anymore." He snaps, far too much vitriol in his voice for such a silly topic.

"Why are you being such an ass? Would it hurt you to just listen and laugh with me? Or is the idea of us having a baby together so appalling to you?" You don’t know why you’re going so hard to defend your dreams or why he feels the need to tear them down, but you can’t ignore the sudden shift after he heard you mention the possibility of having a child together, and his answering laugh cuts you deep.

"You don't know anything." Beomgyu says, getting cryptic like he always gets whenever you talk about your dreams. Usually you’d let it go, but not this time. Not when he was so disgusted with the idea of having a child with you.

"Don't know what?" You ask, frustrated. “That you find the thought of having a child with me so appalling?”

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

Of course, he never wants to talk about it. He always runs away whenever the topic of discussion gets too serious for his liking. For a guy who is so self-proclaimed obsessed with you, he sure does work hard to avoid these meaningful talks. Well, if he wants to avoid it so bad then you’ll make it easy for him.

"Fine." You hop off the table and go to the bathroom to clean yourself up and change your underwear before going back out, intending to leave the apartment to get some fresh air and most importantly, to get away from Beomgyu.

But Beomgyu has other ideas, following you at every step like a second shadow, and when he sees you going for the door, he steps in between you and it. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"I'm coming with you." He states decidedly and you can’t keep the snort out of your mouth. He always does this. He always makes decisions for you. Well, not this time. "No. I need space."

But he shakes his head firmly. "You're angry. I don't want to let you go angry."

Beomgyu always hated parting from you on bad terms. He always needed to make sure everything was okay before he let you out of his sight. It was sweet at first. You might’ve even considered it healthy at some point, but right now it’s driving you up the wall. Arguments can't always be resolved on the spot, especially when one party refuses to even talk, and so forcing you to be together just ends up with you lashing out because you can't blow off steam.

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He just doesn't want you out of his sight.

"Beomgyu, for fuck's sake, get out of my way. I don’t want to be around you right now."

"You know I can't let you go angry." He reiterates as if that is a necessity you had to cave to.

"You're going to have to learn to. If you won’t talk to me then you have to at least give me some space.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” You shout, angry and fed up with him. “I don't know what the fuck happened to you in the past to traumatize you like this, because god knows you refuse to tell me, but I can’t coddle you about it anymore. I need to take a breather and I don’t care if you–”

"I lost a baby before." He utters softly but it was deafening to you.

"What?"

“Me and my ex, we had a baby on the way but I lost both of them. That’s why the idea of having a baby freaks me out so much. I can’t handle losing another one. I can’t handle losing you.… it’s just–it’s–” He starts tearing and stuttering his words, looking distraught as he attempts to explain himself to you, and you feel absolutely wretched for doubting him. You’re such a fucking bitch for forcing him to reveal this to you, but you’re also selfishly glad he did. Even this tiny sliver of his past is much needed context to explain the man you love so dearly.

“I—I don’t know what to say.” You pathetically utter after an exorbitant amount of time, never having expected such a revelation. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You take him into your arms and he sobs against you, holding onto you tightly. "I want to have a child with you. Nothing would make me happier. You have no idea. But I'm just too scared."

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t want to have a child right now. We can talk about it again in the future. We’ll work it out together, okay?” You pull back slightly–not stepping out of his tight embrace, not that he would’ve let you–and take his face into your hands, wiping his tears off.

He nods pitifully. “Okay.”

You should’ve left it at that. He’s in a bad state. You should be comforting him right now, but you’re selfish and this might be the only time he’ll open up to you, and now you have to know.

"Did… did you love her?"

"With all my heart." He doesn’t hesitate in answering and you feel a pang of jealousy towards his deceased lover. How fucked up, is that? "More than me?"

He is quiet for a while and every second that passes in silence tears your heart apart.

"There is no one I love more than you." He finally says and you let out a sigh of relief that was entirely too obvious.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m being such a bitch. I’m jealous of a dead girl, how crazy is that?” You ramble nervously, but Beomgyu stops you with a kiss.

“That’s okay, baby. I know you don’t mean it like that.” He reassures you and you sigh in relief once more. He never judges you for the messed up thoughts you sometimes get. He always understands and emphasizes and that’s part of the reason why you love him so much.

Still you keep the rest of your questions about her to yourself. It must be a sore subject for him given how he was so protective of it before. The only thing you need to know right now is that you’re the love of his life, not her, not anyone else. You.

____________________

“He’s not trying to keep me away from you. He’s just really clingy. No, he’s not manipulating me–” Your heated defense of your boyfriend is cut off when you spot said boyfriend standing in the doorway of the kitchen where you had been taking your friend’s call so he wouldn’t overhear it. Well, so much for that.

“Oh shit, I'll call you back.” You mutter to your friend and end the call, cutting off the protests on the other line.

“Was that Yunjin?” He asks and you nod guiltily. Yunjin doesn’t like Beomgyu. She made that very clear to the point that despite you not telling him, he knows it well.

“She’s just being Yunjin. Don’t mind her.” You try to smooth things over but he shakes his head. “No, it’s my fault. I’m not helping things by keeping you all to myself. It’s just because I love being with you so much, you know that right?”

“I know, baby.” You walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love spending time with you too–hey, here’s an idea. Why don’t you come along? It would be killing two birds with one stone, hanging out with my friends while still being with you. And it’s been so long since they’ve last seen you. I’m sure once they get a look at your cute face, they’d forget all their reservations.”

You laugh, but Beomgyu looks nervous. “I don’t know. They don’t really like me anymore.”

“Because they don’t see much of you and you’re taking over all my attention. If they see more of you, they’d fall in love with you all over again.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You’re irresistible, puppy.”

_________________________________________

And just like you said, things go well. After your friends get over the initial annoyance that you brought Beomgyu along, they start warming up to him once the conversation starts flowing and Beomgyu’s radiant personality shines through. You’ve even caught Yunjin crack a smile or two at his antics.

But all your high hopes come crashing down when another person joins your party. The stranger’s name is Taehyun, and he’s apparently the new roommate of one of your friends, which is fine enough, he seems like a nice guy and you’ve always welcomed new additions to your group.

Beomgyu on the other hand, must feel differently, because as soon as Taehyun joins you, his whole demeanor shifts and he becomes closed off and snappy, getting mean with his comments that were all seemingly directed at the newcomer. It was starting to ruin the mood, making your friends mad again, and so when he makes yet another snarky remark to something Taehyun innocuously said, you have to pull him aside and ask him what his problem is.

“What the fuck are you doing, Beomgyu? My friends were just starting to warm up to you again. Why are you being such a dick?”

“I want to go home. I don’t feel very good.” He lies, and you know it’s a lie because he doesn’t sell it very well, glaring daggers at the table where your friends are seated.

“Then go home.” You snap, having little remaining patience for his behavior.

He gives you a look of betrayal. “You know I can’t leave without you.”

“You’re going to have to if you can’t act like a fucking adult. The reason I invited you is because I wanted to help smooth things over between you and my friends. I wanted to prove to them that you’re not the manipulative asshole they think you are, but honestly the way you’re acting right now, makes me wonder if maybe they are right and–”

“No they’re not.” He cuts you off, lips tightly pressed together. “Fine, we'll stay.”

“Beomgyu…” You eye him with doubt but he insists. “I’m fine. Let's go.”

He drags you back to the table and you stop your protests so your friends can’t hear it.

Beomgyu is quiet for a while, which doesn’t make for pleasant company, but at least he’s not being an asshole. Well, not for a bit anyway. Because once Taehyun mentions he’s looking for a job and you tell him that your place of work is hiring, Beomgyu starts acting up again.

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to work as a barista, honey.” Beomgyu speaks over you, but Taehyun rebuts him. “I do. The hours sound good for a student like me and the work doesn’t sound too hard. It’s perfect.”

Once again, Beomgyu speaks instead of you. “But you seem like an intelligent guy. Surely serving coffee to other people would be embarrassing for you.”

“What the hell, Beomgyu?” You hiss, mortified at his implication, and in front of all your friends too. Is that what he really thinks? Does he think your job is embarrassing?

“I just mean that he could be doing something else.”

“And what does that make me? A loser who isn’t good for anything except serving people coffee, a job you apparently think is humiliating for someone intelligent to have?”

“You’re overthinking it, baby. I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, I didn’t think my dumb brain was capable of overthinking.” You laugh tearfully, and stand up before your friends could see you cry. “Excuse me.”

You storm out of the restaurant and Beomgyu follows after you.

“Baby!”

You whip around and scream at him. “If you think what I do is so demeaning then why are you even with me?”

“I don’t think that.” He denies vehemently, “I just didn’t want him to work with you. I got bad vibes from that dude.”

"Not this again.” You groan. Of course this is why he was behaving in such a bizarre and rude manner. Beomgyu is a jealous guy. You tried reassuring him a million times that he’s the only guy for you but to no avail. He gets paranoid and thinks every guy you interact with will steal you away from him, and here he is doing it again. “Are you seriously fucking jealous of a guy I don’t even know?"

“I am not jealous.” He tries to deny, badly. “I told you I got bad vibes from him.”

“Bad vibes?” You laugh hysterically. “If bad vibes are all it takes then I would’ve broken up with you long ago because all my friends got bad vibes from you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Your friends hate me. They’ll say anything to tear us apart. I bet they even invited that guy just to piss me off.”

"Oh my god, are you listening to yourself? You’re so–ugh, just please leave me alone, Beomgyu." You try to walk away from him but he quickly reaches out and grabs you by the arm, turning you around to face him, freaked out. "No, please stay."

"Let me go, Beomgyu." You demand, your anger bubbling to dangerous level but Beomgyu stand firm. “No. You can’t leave me.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“I’m serious, Beomgyu. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“No.”

You can’t help it. He’s driving you insane, and you can’t hold back anymore. You slap him.

But you immediately regret it when you see the red mark beginning to bloom across his cheek.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. You just drive me–" He kisses you passionately, holding onto you even tighter.

"Do anything you want to me, I don’t mind. Just don't leave me." He breathes against your lips, eyes looking crazed in their desperation.

God, this is sick. You shouldn’t entertain this kind of twisted trade-off. You should push him away and demand he leave you be. You shouldn’t take him up on his offer to let you unload your frustrations physically onto him. Maybe you should even end it…

But you can’t. You’re as invested in this as he is. You don’t want to break up with him. You don’t want to leave him. You just want to punish him for the crazy way he’s behaving. You want to feel like you’re not letting him get away with this without actually having to break up with him .

And so you accept his sick offer.

_______________________________

"You're so pathetic, Beomgyu."

He shudders at your words, and you don’t know if he likes it or hates it. All you know is he tries to reach out to you but his hands are held back by the bindings you’ve fashioned out of your scarves.

He cries out for you but you have no mercy for him. This is the punishment he chose for himself and you’ll be damned if you don’t make the most of it.

“You’ve really pissed me off this time, Beomgyu. Acted so crazy just so I wouldn’t leave you. Well, now you get to sit back and watch me fuck myself and you can do nothing about it.” You taunt him as you ride the dildo you have strapped around his abdomen, his own cock brushing up against your ass every time you move, getting enough stimulation to keep him hard but not nearly enough to get him off.

"Please, sit on my cock. It feels better than that plastic toy. I'm all hard and ready for you. Ride me, please. Cum on my dick. Use me instead of that toy." He babbles, but you don’t listen.

You want to make him suffer, and you’re scared to dwell too long on where that emotion comes from. You love your boyfriend. You’ve never wanted to hurt him before, but he really pushed you too far this time.

"You did this. You’re making me do this to you. You’re being a terrible boyfriend."

"No, don’t say that.” He shakes his head vehemently, getting teary. “I'm sorry. I’ll do anything to make it better. Whatever you want."

"Will you let him work with me?" You hazard to ask and his face immediately transforms. "No."

You scoff–so much for being apologetic–and ride the dildo faster, moaning out loud just to piss him off. You see him struggling and feel him trying to buck his hips against you but he can’t accomplish much more than his cock just grazing your ass.

Still, you can feel the wetness from the precum touching your skin. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“You just don’t know what you are to me.” He counters, leaving you speechless. One thing about Beomgyu is that he will never fail to tell you just how much you mean to him. It’s why you’ve always been so weak when it comes to him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t punish him for his behavior. “Clearly not much if you don’t even trust me to work with him.”

“You don’t know.” He insists, but doesn’t deny your claim which pisses you off even more.

“Don’t know what? That you think I’ll cheat on you if given the slightest chance? Is that something she did to you? Is that why you’re so fucked up?”

His silence is all you need to know, and you don’t know if you should feel bad for him that the woman he loved so much cheated on him, or angry that he assumes you would do the same just because she did.

“Fuck you, Beomgyu.” The two emotions mix together and fuel you further, and you put your hand between your legs to touch yourself, getting yourself off if only just to spite him, knowing how much he needs to always be the cause of your pleasure.

“Baby, please.” He begs, seeing you inch closer to your end, and it’s killing him that he’s not the reason for it. Little does he know that his desperation and blinding need for you is the greatest contributor to your impending fall over the edge.

But you don’t let him know that, jumping erratically on the dildo and attacking your poor clit with your fingers, sending yourself off on the most emotionally exhausting orgasm of your life.

“Baby…” You can hear him whimper pitifully in the background, his shape blurry in front of you as you fight off your own tears. “Baby…”

“What is it?” You hiss after your orgasm passes, anger finally overpowering the lust. “Do you want to cum? Is that what you’re concerned about? Your dick?”

“That’s not it.” He tries to deny it but you’re already untying him. And despite his denial, as soon as his hands are free, he tries to reach out to grab you but you take his hands and forcefully pull them off your body. He tries to fight you but you hiss sharply at him, "Stay."

He whimpers but listens, and when he looks like he won’t go back on his words, you let go of his hands. "Touch yourself."

"I want you to touch me." He whines and you slap his thigh. "You don't get to make demands. Not after the way you behaved in front of my friends. You embarrassed me!"

"I'm sorry." He mewls, one hand going to his dick and the other playing with his nipples, putting on a show for you, needing to gain your favor once again. Which is precisely why you lean over him to grab your phone from the night stand and unlock it, pretending to be scrolling through it as he jerks off.

“Baby!” He protests heatedly, reaching out to touch you. Beomgyu fucking hates it when you don’t give him any attention. He withers without it.

“Did I say you could touch me?” You seethe, not bothering to take his hands off this time, opting instead to intimidate him into it, and thankfully he retracts his hands at your tone as if it had burned him.

“Keep jerking off.” You instruct, and as soon as he does, you go back to looking at your phone.

"Look at me." He whines, but doesn’t stop this time. You can hear the wet sounds of his hand moving over his cock and see the movement out of the corner of your eyes.

“Please.”

You ignore him.

“Just look at me.”

You keep looking at your phone.

"Princess…."

You snap your head up, narrowing your eyes at him. He never called you that. In fact, he almost makes it a point not to call you that so he wouldn’t “feed into your prince delusion”. So for him to say that right now was really low. Not that Beomgyu cared, as long as he had your attention.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it." He moans, thrusting into his fist.

Maybe it's sick. Maybe you're enabling his behavior but god, was it so sexy to have him so completely obsessed with you that just your gaze is enough to get him off.

“Is this what you want, Beomgyu? For me to look at you and see how you’re such a pathetic slut that you can’t even get off without me giving you my attention?”

Beomgyu doesn’t even try to deny it, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. Never want you to look away from me. I missed you so much.” He hiccups, thrusting up into his tight fist.

Here he goes again, talking about how much he misses you. You’re sure if you spend every single second of your life with him he’d still complain about missing you. You can’t call him out too much on it though–not when you feel the same, not when you thrive on it.

“Can I cum?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly and you sneer down at him. “No.”

He lets out a heart-broken moan, hand clenching at your thigh. “No. Please. Need to cum.”

"You don't deserve it. Stop." You say cooly, and he wails. "Please. I need to cum. I can’t–I can’t.”

His voice gets high and breathy, strung out, but you don’t care. No, you relish in it, knowing what you’ll make him do next. "Stop."

He cries out, shaking his head violently, not stopping. "No. No. I need it."

You can see how close he is. You can see his cock flushing red, his balls tightening and his precum pouring out of his head. You have to put a stop to it, physically removing his hands yourself, but as soon as you touch him he loses it, staining your belly with his cum.

"Ah--ah--oh god–please touch me–please." He bucks his hips in the air, unable to reach you, and cries, tears pouring down his face. "I love you. I love you. Please use me. Please don't leave me.”

You've never been this rough with Beomgyu and for a second you wonder if you're going too far, but he looks so fucked out by the way you’re being mean to him that you can’t back down now.

Still he is your sweetheart. He’ll always be your sweetheart and you can’t bear to see him in such distress, even if he brought it onto himself with his jealous and obsessive ways.

"Hush, Beomgyu." You murmur, grabbing his dick and jerking him off. He gasps from the overstimulation, his hooded eyes blowing wide as he grabs onto the sheets, but he doesn’t stop you, thrusting his hips up into your grip instead.

"Ah–oh fuck–AHH–"

"Cum for me, Beomgyu." Your hand blurs over his cock, wet slapping sounds filling the room as your fist collides with his balls on each downstroke.

"Yes–princess–all for you." If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve found the sound of him calling you ‘princess’ the most natural thing in the world. As if he had always done it. As if he truly believes it.

But it’s all just to get you to give him what he wants, and sadly, it works. You’re as weak for him as he is for you. It’s unhealthy–is what your friends have told you after his charms have worn off in their eyes, but you fear it would never wear off for you. You’re absolutely, sickeningly in love with him and that’s why you’ll always make excuses to let him do the crazy things he does to you and for you.

And the things you do to him.

Beomgyu looks spent after his orgasm and he tries to pull you down in his arms to cuddle, but you stop him.

"Wait a second." You say, grabbing a few tissues and wiping yourselves off.

His hold on you remains so tight you feel his heart beat furiously against your chest. "I'm sorry for what I’ve said. I just don't want you to work with him."

You look up at him, mind a little clearer now that you’re all wrapped up in his warmth, feeling safe in his embrace.

"I will work with him. You need to get over your jealousy. I've had enough." You inform him simply. Yes, you’ve done nothing but entertain his delusions so far, but it’s high time for you to starting actually doing something about it. You know you’ll only be ruining yourself later if you don’t. Who knows what he’ll demand next if you let this go. For you to not talk to other men? To stop seeing your friends who are trying to tear you apart? To quit your job so you’d always be around him? No, you have to put your foot down now.

Beomgyu looks so pissed off at what you’ve said, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds you tightly, burying his face in your neck and gripping onto you so hard, you’re sure his fingers will leave marks. That’s fine. You’ll just wear something to cover the bruises. Just as long as you make this work.

________________________________________

That night, you have another dream about prince Beomgyu, but this time a new character makes an appearance, and that is Lord Taehyun.

"What are you doing here?" Dream Beomgyu bursts into your room, finding you and Taehyun together.

"I came to visit the lady." Taehyun’s demeanor appears relaxed but you can see the tension around the edges of his mouth.

"Beomgyu, relax–" You try to calm him down, and he turns on you. "How long has he been here? Did he do anything to you?"

“No, we just talked!” You snap, trying to yank your hand back from him but his grip is bruisingly-tight.“How did he get in?”

“That’s none of your business.” You refuse to tell him but that just sets him off.

“You are my business.” He shouts, making Taehyun get up, “Let her go. You’re hurting her.”

“Fuck you.” Beomgyu was becoming aggressive, and Taehyun looked quite on edge himself. You knew you had to be the one to de-escalate this situation before it exploded so you step closer to Beomgyu and hiss in his ear. “Get a grip, Beomgyu.” You hiss lowly at him then turn to Taehyun with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Taehyun. I need to talk to Beomgyu privately.”

The dream ends there, and when you wake up in the morning, you make no mention of it to Beomgyu.

_____________________

A/N: Well its' finally here folks. Don't know how many chapter this will be but I hope you like it anyway.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #sub!reader #dom!reader #sub!idol #dom!idol #female reader #afab reader

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copperbadge · 8 months ago

Note

RE watching thoughts: I’m not 100% sure, but it might be that the whole “I am not my thoughts” is about engaging and identifying with your metacognition MORE than your initial thoughts. Because I get where you’re coming from - what is a consciousness but a collection of thoughts and feelings? But you can also have thoughts about your own thoughts that are more useful for dealing with whatever situation you’re in, I guess. (Random aside - every time I start thinking about thinking about thinking my brain inevitably starts thinking about Tiffany Aching and The Wee Free Men.)

I really should have replied to this ask sooner because it's going to seem like a non-sequitur now (this was sent much earlier in March) but I'm kind of glad I didn't, because I've been chatting with people about this and I think I understand more why there's an emphasis in some therapies on the idea that we are not our thoughts.

(I uh, haven't read the Tiffany books so I'm not much help there.)

I am coming to understand that many, perhaps most, people judge themselves, comprehensively and harshly, based on their thoughts. Perhaps it's just a lot of people who struggle with mental health, but given the commonality of the sentiment I don't know if I'd confine it that tightly; generally it appears that people cannot conceive of themselves as anything other than a binary of good or bad. So many people I've talked to about this portion of DBT, the watching-questioning-identifying thoughts portion, say that it helps to snap them out of a spiral of "I'm a horrible person, I deserve to suffer/die, I can never be redeemed" after they've failed at something, or had a negative thought, or reacted poorly to an unexpected event.

That is not something I've ever experienced. I mean, jokingly maybe, but not in a real, internal sense.

And that's not to brag -- I'm not saying I think I'm a good person, either, because I don't think I'm a good person. I don't conceive of myself in terms of good or bad. I never cuddle my cats and think "I'm such a good cat dad" or forget to feed them and think "I should die now." I have a perpetual morally neutral attitude towards my own existence; my thoughts and actions might trend me one direction or another but I'm aware of the temporary nature of that. If I fuck up I'll worry about who I might have hurt or whether I'll be fired or what's going to happen as a consequence, if I am polite to someone who didn't deserve it I know I was acting kindly in the moment, but I don't make an inherent moral judgement of myself based on that. And it seems like the vast majority of people do. Which you would think would make me feel pretty good about myself, but honestly...I don't know.

A lot of people I know who have ADHD or are Autistic have talked about seeing themselves as other, as alien -- like that one webcomic artist who draws themself with little antennae to indicate they're strange and different. I've always understood why one might do that, but I never felt that way myself, before or after the diagnosis. After all, let's remember, I was The Normal* Child of my siblings, and if I was The Normal One before the diagnosis, why wouldn't I remain Mostly Normal after?

* As ever, I'm using "normal" as a cultural term, to indicate what we think of as mainstream, not because normal is a thing that really exists.

My life has been relatively solitary -- I have friends and family and I love them but I'm rarely part of a large group, I don't spend a lot of time out in public interacting with people, I'm not a big socializer. Before the Adderall, I really couldn't be, I took too much psychic damage from interpersonal interaction, so I chose those very carefully. And now my DBT class has been a rare moment when I'm encountering contradictions to a lot of my assumptions about the way human beings in our society interact, react, and behave. I just...don't fit that mold very well. I think of it as having crossed wiring, not in the sense that I'm faulty but just in the sense that I'm very, very different. Not Normal. It's not exactly a bad feeling but it's certainly not a great one, internalizing the sensation of alienness.

DBT is proving to be a mixed bag but not in the way I or my therapist intended -- it seems to be either things I was already instinctively doing or things that simply do not apply to me. In one way it's disappointing because it means there isn't much help to be had (we're a little over halfway through the course and I keep thinking "Maybe next class will be useful") but on the other hand it's validating that so much of what I came up with myself as unconscious coping mechanisms is literally what I would have been told to do anyway.

Sometimes it's a combination of both, though, which really blows. I guess most people, if they reframe another person's actions, actually find emotional relief in that, and I don't. An example from the class is that if someone is rude to you, you can consider how they might be having a hard day, and be polite in return; that's great, in terms of defusing a situation, and it's something I do a fair amount of. But apparently it's also something that for most people results in feeling less awful about the interaction, and that's not the case for me. Which is why so much of DBT feels to me like lying to oneself. It's not lying for most people.

So, yeah. I'm going to finish out the course and keep trying things with the therapist but I suspect given everything, I might already be at "as good as it gets" in terms of emotional work. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, and there is still the option to try medication that could help, but I think there will come a point where I'm going to have to deal with the fallout of just how different I am, and how that has impacted my life. Might end up a good thing; something I've really been trying to resolve is unhappiness over being unpartnered and highly likely to remain that way, and at least if this provides a better understanding of why, then perhaps I can process that and put it to rest in a way I've been trying to do but not succeeding well at.

So, we'll see. But I find it both fascinating and kind of horrifying how many people can believe they are irredeemably bad, even if the belief is only temporary, simply because they had an uncharitable thought or impulse. It makes me somewhat grateful for the crossed wires, at least.

#sam has adhd #therapy #dbt

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musical-shit-show · 9 months ago

Text

bad idea, right?

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #47 (“you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”) from Prompt List 1 and #34 (“hate is not the word. i loathe you.”) from Prompt List 3

Warnings: Spoilers for Season 1 of Hazbin Hotel, heavy cursing, homophobic language, Adam is just generally an asshole (duh), mentions of murder, depression (?), angst, digital stimulation, choking, general kinda rough smut (18+, minors DNI!!!)

Word Count: 1,657

Author’s Note: So ever since that Hazbin finale, I’ve loved the concept of Adam getting sent to Hell, mirroring how Sir Pentious was redeemed to Heaven. So, since it’s Hell, I figured this would make sense to have it be a little darker and more mature than my typical stuff. So yeah, minors DNI (for real, I don’t want to have to block anyone). If people like this, I might try my hand at other Hazbin characters if I feel so moved (or if anyone sends in a request). As always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists if you do want to send in a request! Happy reading, you degenerates.

“Would you get your hands off me? I just stepped in the door, asshole.”

“Did anyone see you?”

The door slammed behind you, shaking the walls of the seedy motel room on the west side of Pentagram City. Needy hands were already roaming over your figure, and you groaned in frustration.

“No,” you hissed, shrugging away from Adam’s grasp, taking off your overcoat. It was raining heavily that night, so most of the denizens of Hell had confined themselves to the indoors for the evening. That is if they weren’t working the corner or trying to find their next fix.

“As if I want to be spotted here anyways,” you huffed, “I have a reputation to uphold too, ya know.”

“Reputation,” he repeated, his golden eyes glowering beneath the horned mask that he still insisted on wearing. He chuckled darkly, “If I was seen cavorting around with a fucking sinner, there would be zero chance of me getting back to where I rightfully belong.”

Adam couldn’t fathom how this happened to him. He was then first man, the first human, and wielded unimaginable angelic power beyond comprehension.

But he was taken out by a two-foot tall, one-eyed maid with a penchant for stabbing. It almost would’ve been badass if it didn’t result in his untimely demise.

Next thing he knew, he woke up hours later, his angelic form altered into a tacky red and black cloak and broken wings. He still maintained his gold pupils, a haunting reminder of his previous afterlife.

And now he was a fallen angel.

Fallen.

Fallen. All because of that clit-licker Charlie Morningstar and her merry band of misfits. Which, at the present moment, included you. You had decided to take up residence at the Hazbin Hotel, and it made his blood boil.

So why did he still feel so drawn to you?

“Newsflash, but you’re down here too, dickwad,” you spat, taking offense to his comment, “You fucked up big time going after Lucifer’s daughter, and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

Before you could launch into a tirade, Adam grabbed you firmly, pulling you flush against him, “Ya know,” he purred, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

“Pig.”

“Talking back will only make you pay for it later, dollface,” he growled, his dick twitching under his robe as he eyed you hungrily, “And if you didn’t like it, why do you keep coming back for more, hmm?”

You glared at him. The truth was, you didn’t know. He was the antithesis of everything you were trying to work toward; ever since the Princess of Hell had let you seek refuge in her hotel, you felt like you actually could be on the path to redemption.

That is, before you had a chance encounter with a fallen angel—and not just any fallen angel, but Earth’s first man—who also happened to be a massive shithead. You almost felt bad about lying to Charlie and the rest of the crew, but there was something about Adam that made it impossible for you to stay away.

You felt your insides twist as Adam spun you around so your ass was pressed against him, his form much larger and intimidating than your own. You let out a groan as his fingers weaved through your hair, giving it a slight tug as he pulled it back to expose your neck.

He nipped at the sensitive skin by your collarbone, while his other hand deftly palmed around the front of your skirt until it was hiked up to expose your panties. You should’ve been disgusted by the thought of him—and oftentimes, you were—but that didn’t stop your body from tingling with arousal.

He could sense it, the anger radiating off of you. It only turned him on more. These days, he only felt this kind of thrill when he was taunting you, teasing you until you came undone around him.

It was almost as good as when he would come down for his yearly visit, slaughtering sinners with his faithful lieutenant by his side.

Almost.

“Can’t hate me that much when you’re wet as fuck for me, huh hot stuff?” he said, his voice low in your ear. His grip tightened, the discomfort of his clawed fingers becoming almost unbearable.

“Hate is not the word,” you muttered, venom laced in your words, “I loathe you. I should do all of Hell a favor and kill you for good.”

You both knew your threats were empty. Having been an angel, Adam possessed more power than half the overlords of Hell. There was nothing special about you. If he wanted, he could snap you like a twig.

But despite his best efforts, Adam was incredibly lonely. Despondent, even. He didn’t know who he was without his legion of exterminators and Lute.

He had no plan to take over even a measly quadrant of Pentagram City, because he was struggling with the point of it all. Most overlords were now armed to the teeth with angelic weapons, which meant one more stab to the back and he was done for good.

Maybe an end to this misery would be good, but he so desperately wanted to claw his way back to Heaven that it wasn’t a risk he was currently willing to take.

He felt like a pathetic coward. But at least he had you to torment. At least when he was with you, he could stifle the cacophony of melancholia in his head. For a little while, anyways.

“Ugh, I love it when you talk dirty,” he mused, unphased by your aggression as he removed your shirt, exposing your breasts. His fingers moved your clit as he stroked you through your underwear, making you flinch, “Face it, toots. You might not be as fucked up as I am, but you have to admit this is adds just the right amount of spice to your miserable fucking existence.”

“If you’re gonna monologue all night about me being demon scum, I can go,” you shot back, glancing back at him with an annoyed look splashed across your face. “Besides, I told you last time, I’m not fucking you if you keep that stupid mask on.”

The digital façade he wore fell into a scowl, but Adam caved almost immediately and tossed the mask aside, revealing his tousled brown hair and piercing eyes. A five o’clock shadow adorned his face, and you’d almost consider him handsome if you knew nothing about his personality.

He pushed you onto the bed, his fingers threading to grip your hair again, making your back arch. Your comfort was the last thing on Adam’s mind. A part of him actually liked that you fought back against him; being challenged made fucking you even more interesting.

You could feel how hard he was against your ass, and the pit in your stomach started to tense as you felt his cock rub against your folds, your panties now hanging pathetically from your ankles after he ripped them away from your waist.

Satan forbid he actually take off that stupid outfit of his; he had no problem disrobing you, but you didn’t have time to protest. With a sudden thrust, he sheathed himself into you, making you moan involuntarily.

You could almost hear the smirk coming from behind you as Adam began to pound into you almost immediately, his pace steady and rough. “You’re gonna take it like a good little slut, aren’t you?” he mocked, not letting on how perfect you felt around him, “You know there isn’t demon dick in all of Hell that’s as good as the original.”

How this guy got into Heaven in the first place, you’d never know. “Wouldn’t be too sure of that,” you needled as he pulled you to him again, his strokes getting deeper and making your abdomen tighten, “I’ve heard Lucifer is amazing in bed.”

You knew this would set him off; any time you invoked Lucifer’s name, you knew you were playing with fire.

Adam growled in your ear, his temper flaring. His rhythm quickened, becoming more frantic and desperate. You felt your eyes starting to water as he slammed into you, causing your pussy to throb around him.

Before you could utter another insult, you felt his hand finally loosen its grip on your hair and rest on your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck as he continued fucking you from behind.

He wasn’t going to forget that comment, but he could bitch about Lucifer later; he had more pressing matters at hand.

“Doesn’t matter, babe,” he said, his breathing starting to get ragged as he inched closer to coming inside you, “Your cunt is mine.” Adam might’ve been a sadistic asshole, but he was no idiot; he knew you were just as wretched and alone as he was.

You had to be if you were willingly sneaking around with God’s former favorite on a regular basis.

Which suited him just fine. If he was really damned, he might as well fill his time filling someone else.

His grasp tightened around your throat, and you felt your climax building inside you as he rutted against you at a now punishing speed. “Fuck you,” you squeaked out, trying to sound intimidating, but it was hopeless.

You unraveled around him a few moments later, spasming as you gasped for air, the constriction around your throat deliciously agonizing. Adam spilled into you soon after, a low hum of pleasure emitting from him. Him coming inside you was the most intimate he’d get as far your hookups were concerned.

Feeling equal parts disgusted and satisfied, you pulled your underwear back on, resting on your elbows and finally able to look him into the eye again. Even in the lusty post-sex haze, you could feel the sadness in his stare.

“So,” he drawled, leaning down to close the gap between you, “Same time next week?”

~~~~~

thanks for reading, depraved sinner! as always, please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed! <3

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wolfes · 1 year ago

Text

NEW EDITOR 101: A GUIDE FOR GIFMAKERS by v @shangs

Hi friends! I know I said I would do this way back in April/May when this change was announced but I've been massively busy lately so thank you all for being patient with me :)

Based on the results of this poll, I will be trying my level best to help make a guide for gifmakers to best deal with any problems that have been present with the new editor. However, it's worth noting that I have personally not experienced any of these problems myself and I have no record of any problems from other people that I could send to staff and get guidance on, so for some of these issues I will unfortunately be a broken record.

That being said, I have been using the new editor for a few months now and it hasn't been too bad. So don't be discouraged by the new editor if you still love to make gifs and share them. You may need to adapt a bit, but it's doable!

This is meant to be comprehensive and will be explanation and image heavy. Full guide under the cut.

CONTENTS:

What is the new editor?

Steps to take before posting

Making a post

Troubleshooting

01. WHAT IS THE NEW EDITOR?

Some of you may be asking yourselves what the point of the new editor even is and why it's being implemented in the first place when we already had a (mostly) functional editor. My very limited understanding of it as a CS student is app compatibility and flexibility. I'm not totally clear on the details nor am I 100% certain this is the case, but NPF posts (basically, posts made with the "new editor") first started with the mobile app. I'm unsure if the different post types were simply too unwieldy to transfer to the app - having to make a whole bunch of post types when with the new editor you can now have posts with any elements you want without the rigidity of a set post type - or if it was simply not able to be implemented, but the apps have always used NPF. The majority of Tumblr users are coming from the mobile apps. Then it became a case of having the legacy editor for the web users (which were fewer in number) and the new NPF editor for everyone else. That takes resources to keep around and it's pretty inefficient. Naturally the older editor that was used by less people was going to get the axe, especially since you couldn't tell on mobile that there was even a difference between NPF or legacy posts.

So now here we are and the posts are NPF. This means they're in "Neue Post Format." Basically, every post you make is by default a text post, containing "blocks" of other media - as gifmakers we will primarily be dealing with photos.

I understand that it's frustrating to many to see "our gifs are now rendered as text posts" and ask WHY it's happening when photos should logically be rendered as photo posts - but the fact is, there's now no real delineation between a "text post" and a "photo post." The reason NPF posts are now "text posts" is because that's how they are rendered for desktop themes, not because everyone is going to see your post as text and your gifs are going to be compressed into the quality of a potato (though I know some have seen this issue - more on that later.)

02. STEPS TO TAKE BEFORE POSTING

The long and short of it is that you may have to update your theme. More detail here for those who are interested, but check that your theme supports "new editor posts" or "NPF posts" AND that this is true for original posts (you can read more about why in this ask and, although this may be a bit time-consuming, test it out on your blog). I can say with certainty that my second theme Cygnus supports original NPF posts. This is NOT true of my first theme, though.

You can try to add the NPF Fix by @glenthemes to your own theme (beware if you don't know HTML/CSS) or try this tip by @burningblake for original posts.

Feel free to add theme makers with fully NPF-compatible themes in the notes! I have been happily using my own theme so I can't say to what degree others' themes are NPF-friendly.

03. MAKING A POST

If you're sticking around to post on the new editor and you have trouble ordering your gifs around, here's a little guide on how to post.

If I click on "Photo" from web and open up the editor, here's how it looks:

I went ahead and added three full-width gifs and the editor put them in like so:

You'll most likely also have to order your gifs around in the way you want them. You can go ahead and hover over your gifs to see the button to orient them (the four dots in the top left corner) and the button for an image description (the three dots in the bottom right corner). I've attached images of all three below:

If you hold the orientation button, move your gif around until you see the blue line that shows where your gif will end up in the spot that you want it. For example, I wanted to move the second gif below the first one, so I oriented it so that the blue line would show the marker between the two gifs:

Now my gifs are oriented nicely! Of course, this is a simpler layout, but the principles still hold.

If you save your gifs as a draft and reopen them or you just notice a large gap like this in between your gifs when you're in the editor, don't worry.

This will not show up in dash view or on a desktop theme that supports original NPF posts. For example, this is how the gifs' gap (without modification) looked in my desktop theme:

With your gifs ordered, the final step is to add alt text. You can read more about alt text and why you should use it here. (Feel free to ignore the sections about the captions on the legacy editor since it is no longer relevant. It's also unnecessary to clearly mark descriptions if they're not in the caption of your post because they will clearly show up under "ALT" on Tumblr.)

If you click the three dots in the bottom right corner as seen above, and click "update image description:"

You can add the description you like and click "update." Your photos' alt text will show up under the "ALT" bubble on Tumblr. This is generally a good practice to get into to make your content more accessible, so I hope you guys will consider using alt text regularly :)

Also, I've noticed that in the editor, if you go back and edit something it will take some time to show up. You may have to refresh the page or load it again after some time, but your edits should be there. I would not go back and edit posts again if you see your posts haven't shown up. I also advise against editing your posts on mobile because it's easier to make a mistake.

And there you go, you've successfully made a post with the new editor!

04. TROUBLESHOOTING

I'm sure you've all been waiting for this. Unfortunately I am probably going to be extremely unhelpful if the editor hasn't been refined in the last few months for those experiencing issues. I'm going to go in the categories that I listed out in my original poll, but keep in mind that I haven't personally seen any of these issues on my end so I haven't been able to contact staff with any evidence that this happened other than my poll.

Dashboard view quality issues: I haven't noticed this issue. I'm not sure if this has been fixed since the original poll was posted. If you're experiencing this issue, this is not something I know how to fix so I would contact staff with screenshots of the issue.

Desktop theme side padding: As noted before, this is a theme issue. If you change themes to something that is NPF-compatible with original posts, there shouldn't be any more issues here.

Small gifs on mobile: In my experience this was happening regardless of what editor was used; it's a bug that seems to have been fixed since this poll was created. If you're still experiencing it, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I would advise contacting staff.

New editor doesn't accept gifs of size 9.8MB < x < 10MB: I haven't experienced this issue so I would say the only workaround would be to either trim the size of your gif so that it is under 9.8MB or whatever threshold seems to be the cutoff or contact staff (I am so sorry for constantly having to suggest this 😭 unfortunately there's no trick I can offer because the new editor has been taking all my gifs just fine)

Logistical issues ordering gifsets: I hope this guide has been able to answer the majority of questions and shed some light on some of the more buggy behaviors of the new editor, but if you have any more specific questions you can feel free to shoot me an ask!

HTML issues / colored text: Unfortunately it seems colored text may be deprecated entirely? This could be for accessibility purposes because I believe screen readers would read out every single letter of gradient text in captions which I imagine can get quite frustrating for users of this technology. I recommend just using the normal rich text editor. If you want small text, you can highlight and click the <s> button!

Other: If it seems like something I may be able to answer, please feel free to ask me. Otherwise... hound staff 😭

Here's where you can hound staff, btw. If you're having major issues I would advise you guys to submit support tickets. That way if there are any widespread bugs, staff will hopefully be able to fix them.

I hope this guide was helpful to you guys in dealing with the new editor, and happy giffing <3

#gif tutorial #new editor tutorial #completeresources #userphotoshop #resourcemarket #userrobin #userbells #arthurpendragonns #ughmerlin #userbecca #usersameera #usermarsy #alielook #tuserlucie #tutorial

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