#and have been corrected in turn when I made assumptions

[alicepao13]

If someone says something like “the writers cut the scene” let’s just assume they don’t know anything about film or tv.

As for other things that actually concern writing, yeah, I’m going to blame the writers. However, as I’ve been part of many fandoms over the years, I must say that not even Marvel Studios get away with not being blamed when a movie is not as good as the audience would want. I can’t consider my fandoms one by one and proclaim with certainty that in all of them the fandom didn’t unjustly vilify the writers. But in the majority of them, people have looked way further than the writers to find the root of the problem for a failing part of a movie/show or a movie/show that failed people’s expectations.

I wrote in a tag of another post that I hope that the writers manage to get what they ask for regarding just compensation for their writing, exactly because I want to be able to blame them when they write poorly, without having to consider excuses like payment or anything like that. I stand by that. And the same goes for everyone involved in a production for a show or film.

“Wait, there are people blaming the writers?”

Are you surprised? Fandoms have become notorious anti-writer spaces. Studios love you guys. They can cut the budgets, cut the number of writers, cut the wages of the writers, and you guys always blame the writers. “The writers ruined the show!” It’s never “the studios ruined the show.”

I hate to break it to you: more than half the shows you complain were “ruined by the writers”, were ruined by the studios. Studios cut the scenes and arcs you were excited for. Studios cut the budget of the show, or even raise the budget of the show and force a “bigger, louder, bolder” tone on shows that were unexpected hits (this is where we get “the Netflix look” on every show post-Stranger Things and Queen’s Gambit).

You guys do not do your research. Half your fanfics are tagged with bad faith digs at the writers, when a few searches would reveal how strapped that show was and how poorly the writers were treated. Writers are being given a single week to write each episode—I’m not kidding, one-week-per-episode is one of the reasons for the strike. How are good arcs and scenes supposed to happen under that time limit, with a max of only four writers?

Tumblr, the self-proclaimed “pro-union, pro-worker, pro-artist” site is also a major fandom site. You guys rarely practice good faith consumer etiquette for television and film writers, because your fandom salt always turns you against writers. And studios love you for it.

Yeah, individual writers do create bad writing from time to time. But so do painters, chefs, and musicians. Directors and actors sometimes refuse to film certain scenes or follow a show’s projected style and arc, and the writers always get the crap for a bad performance or a poorly directed episode. This isn’t to blame actors or directors; it’s to point out that you guys have one villain, and it’s always the writers. You guys never give writers the same grace you give animators, designers, directors, actors, composers, and editors.

Studios love you every time you say “the writers ruined the show.” Every single popular fandom is guilty of this. View any of the “why did the writers cut this scene, they hate my characters” talk when leaked scenes hit the internet. Writers barely get paid for what they do write. You think they’re writing scenes and then happily throwing them in the shredder? You guys just eat the talk that studios put out. Always have.

[happy10thousandyears]

seeing any fan content about gall/ifrey the series kinda triggers me I’m sorry

[sapphiresandferrari]

His sweet girl

Summary: Aemond catches feelings for one of the girls at the brothel and his brother, Aegon, almost ruined everything

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x ocf!reader

Warnings: emotionally constipated Aemond, cunt Aegon, implied smut, lactation kink if you squint, fluff

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm Rosie and this is my first fic ever

Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, feel free to give me advices or suggestion, just be polite

English is NOT my first language, so apologies if there are any mistakes

Gif credits: @aegonx

Enjoy 🫶🏻

Aemond doesn’t know exactly when se became so important to him.

One night he went to the brothel for his usual service, the last weeks has been hectic, everything was overwhelming, his father’s death, Aegon’s coronation and Luke’s death, so he had to find a way to release the stress that it wasn’t training with ser Criston Cole.

So, when he arrived at the pleasure house, he thought that Madame Sylvi was waiting for him like she usually did for the last weeks, instead, one of the servants informed him that Madame was unavailable for that night, but that she had chosen another girl that would satisfy him as much as she did.

Hearing those words, made him want to turn around and leave, not comfortable with the idea of opening himself with a different woman than the one he was used to, yet something inside of him didn’t want to leave, he thought that if Madame Sylvi has personally chosen this girl, then maybe he should’ve give it a shot and try, see how it was.

After all, she knew him and his needs, especially with all the times they laid together, so he decided to trust her judgement, and let the servant guiding him to the secluded area prepared for him.

Once he moved the curtain, he found a girl, no more than few years older than him, laying on the bed, surrounded by pillows and candles: she was wearing a sheer robe, her hair down, thick and long dark locks were covering her, in her eyes an expression he was having a hard time to decipher, a mix of excitement and fear.

She was staring at him, taking her time to admire the beautiful and stoic man in front of her, he was exactly as the girls at the brothel and the small folk described him: his long silver hair, his purple eye, his fierce aura, he was a mesmerising sight.

As he approached her, he thought that he never saw her before at the brothel, he was trying to remember her small face but he simply couldn’t so he figured that she might be a new addiction there, yet if Sylvi chose her specifically, this means she wasn’t someone new.

He started to undress slowly, taking his time to look at the girl in front of him, her appearance was pleasant, she wasn’t exactly what he was searching, but she still had something magnetic in herself, she had a soft body, with plump breasts and wide hips, her body was different from the one of Madame, yet she still had something comforting that made him at ease right away.

She stood up, taking few steps and stopping in front of him, slightly bowing her head “good evening, my prince, Madame Sylvi apologise that she can’t serve you tonight, but she thought I might be a good enough substitute for you tonight”.

She extended a hand for him, which he took after few moments of silent, noticing how small it was compared to his, slowly walking him to the bed in the middle of the room.

“I’ve never saw you before, when did you start working here?”, he asked, curious to see if his assumption was correct

“Oh, I don’t exactly work here, my prince. My father sold me to Madame when I was a child and she thought I was too young to work here, so she kinda raised me like a daughter, usually I stay upstairs or I serve refreshments, I only work when she specifically asks me to”

So, she wasn’t a whore, not entirely at least, and this awakened something inside of him, he started wondering how many men she slept with, how many she pleased, if she was indeed able to please him as she said.

“Did you sleep with many men before? Are you sure you can serve me properly, child?”

“Not many men, but I’m sure you’ll be very satisfied my prince, and if you don’t trust my words, trust Madame’s judgement”

And so he did, and while he was thrusting inside her soft and warm flesh, he thought how different she was than Sylvi, how tight and wet she was, how her whimpers and moans were shy, how full she was making him feel.

He stayed there after he came, his head placed on her soft breasts, her hands caressing his hair and forehead, their breaths steady, her heartbeat calming, he felt well, satisfied with her service, his thoughts and troubles away for the time she was embracing him.

He told her about his worries, about his dreams, and what shocked him the most, was that she wasn’t afraid to tell him what she was thinking: she spoke calmly, without fear, but still in a respectful manner, not wanting to disrespect him nor his family, it was a rare thing, usually people lie to him or tells him half truth in order to not upset him, Sylvi included.

When he came back evenings after, he hoped to find her again, and he was slightly disappointed to see that Sylvi was waiting for him and not her once again.

Madame realised it too, she could feel a shift in his behaviour, at first thinking it was because of everything it was happening with the war and his family, but when he asked her where she was, her doubts became certainty.

“You don’t want my services anymore, my prince?”, she asked as they laid together after their highs, his head on her lap, curled up like a babe.

“Is not that, I like you and you help me a lot, but it was different with her, she understands me, she is not afraid to tell me the truth and actually gives me advises, she listens carefully and tells me what she thinks, it is a rare thing nowadays, everyone too scared to offend me and have me lose my patience

That’s why I want her to serve me from now on, you were good to me, but I think I found a better match”.

Sylvi wasn’t too pleased about this decision, she enjoyed the evenings with the prince, he treated her with respect, making her feel desired and appreciated, but he was still a prince, and if he didn’t want her services anymore, she had to accept it and move on, at the end of the day, he was still a paying costumer like everybody else, and her last goal was to please him, whether it happened personally or not.

Aemond kept going to the brothel almost every night, gently fucking her and then laying on the bed, his head on her chest, talking about his days, about his dysfunctional family, his plans for the war, and she stayed there, listening to him and caressing his head, and when he wasn’t talking, he was listening to her, talking about the books she was reading or about something she did that day, his lips sucking on one of her nipples lazily, eyes closed, eyepatch discharged somewhere on the bed, hand kneading the soft flesh of her hips.

He loved those moments, he felt at peace, somehow invincible, wondering if he will ever feel like this with another woman, but deep down knowing that no noble woman would be so understanding of him, especially not his betrothed.

It was during one of these nights that his brother, Aegon, had found him, ruining the only good thing he had in his life, Vhagar excluded.

They were there, entangled after their highs, the comfort of her arms making him feel so well, when his drunk brother opened the curtain, revealing himself to him and his mates, not wasting a second to humiliate him.

Aemond immediately got up, sitting there, looking somewhere on the floor, trying to steady his breath, listening to his brother rambling about him “fucking her like a hound”, watching her trying to cover herself for the embarrassment, shielding her body from his brother’s eyes.

He decided to leave, being too angry and humiliated, his brother rambling about searching for Madame to “make a man out of one of the white cloaks” but he found a better amusement after he saw his brother there

“You can have her, brother, one whore is as good as another” he said before taking his leave, the look of disappointment and heartbreaking in her face.

He couldn’t sleep that night, he kept seeing her disappointed face over and over again.

He knew he hurt her, that she had no fault for what happened, his brother was a drunken cunt, and she had to suffer the consequences for his stupid actions.

For days he contemplated about going there and apologise, explaining that he was not expecting for his brother be there, that he hasn’t gone to the brothel in years and he thought it was a safe space for him, away from his brother’s mess, yet he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t go there, relieving the memory of that night again.

In the end he decided to go, he was longing her touch, her softness, her sweetness, ha had to admit to himself (with an enormous amount of strength) that he needed her, so he went there one morning, when he knew anyone would’ve gone there and disturb them.

As he walked the street of silk, he kept thinking about what he wanted to tell her, trying to find the words to explain to her that he was sorry, that he understood if she didn’t want to be with him ever, but that he was still hoping for her forgiveness, since she knew how complicated his relationship with his brother was.

He knocked on the door, Sylvi opening it as he thought, looking at him hostilely

“What are you doing here, my prince”

“You know what I’m doing here, I want to speak with her”

“You hurt her, deeply, I don’t know if she wants to see you”

“Just…just ask her, please? I will leave if she does not want to speak with me”

Madame Sylvi looked at him one last time, before moving towards the rooms upstairs, allowing him to enter the brothel.

She came back a while back, telling him that he can go talk to her, but also to be quick, she didn’t want to give him too much time, she was very hurt by his actions.

He went upstairs, anxious and excited, wanting nothing more than explaining to her, his heart beating fast and hard in his chest at the thought of seeing her sweet face again.

His sweet girl, sited on the bed, a book between her hands, looking beautiful with the sun light, certainly different from the candlelight he was used to

“Good morrow, I know my visit is…unexpected, but I had to come, I had to talk to you”

“Good morrow, talk then, but make it quick, I will have to get ready for work soon, I have clients to take care of”

“Clients? I thought you weren’t fully working at the brothel, I don’t understand”

“After what happened that night, your brother’s guard told everyone how good I was, so a lot of men asked for me and Madame couldn’t refuse them, so now I work full time”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl, I really am, I didn’t want to treat you in such a way” he walked towards her, sitting slowly on the bed besides her, taking her hands on his and leaving some kisses on them “I swear I wish I said something that night, but my pride took the best of me; my brother was there, mocking me like he did when we were children, I couldn’t stay any longer.

Forgive me, sweet girl, you’re the only one I didn’t wish to hurt that night, yet you’re the one who suffered for my lack of temperament”

She stayed there, their hands still entwined, listening to his pleadings, wondering what was the best thing to do, reminding herself that he hurt her deeply, but also that he loved this man so much, that she couldn’t stay away from him any longer.

She kissed him while he was still talking, needing to feel his lips on hers once again, his hands on her once again, his cock deep inside her, feeling her to the brim with his seed, making her his and his only.

As he thrusts inside her, hips snapping, his hands kneading the soft flesh of her hips, they never felt so good in their life, so at peace, so happy.

They kissed and bit and marks each other, and in Aemond’s mind, the only thought was that she was his and he wasn’t going to let any man take her from him, the only good thing in his life.

She was his sweet girl, only his.

[bunnys-kisses]

cum stained logos

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, the 2024 red bull driving uniform, uniform kink, oral sex

bunny says: reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated! I love feedback!! i am looking (dis)respectfully mr. verstappen, been thinkin about this image.

the driving uniform was a core feature of formula one, it was a showcase of sponsors while also being a protector for the driver. there was a reason why technically the uniform was in two layers.

max was proud to wear red bull, even off the track he wore is quite frequently. you once made a comment asking if he got this stuff for free and that was why there was so much of it in his closet.

"you like it." he responded as he placed his hands on your shoulders and went in for a kiss on your cheek from behind, "i know how you look at me after a race. red bull across my chest."

you looked behind yourself to him and made a face, "i love a man in uniform so." you shrugged.

the idea buried itself in max's brain like a seed. it soon grew into a hefty idea to make you squirm.

for max it wasn't hard to get his driving suit into his bag and back to his home. everyone assumed he was just very dedicated to racing (which was a correct assumption), but max verstappen would never do anything nefarious with it. to ruin the red bull legacy and brand.

so the look on your face when you went into the bathroom and saw him zipping up the dark blue uniform was a nice surprise. he looked over at you and smiled, "like what you see?"

you swallowed, "how did you even-"

he turned around, it was still partially unzipped giving you a clear view that he was not wearing the fire proof protection underneath. he had no reason to really wear it, while sex with you was hot. it was no fire hazard.

you adverted your eyes and swallowed, "max... how?"

he chuckled and went up to you. he placed his hands on his shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. when he pulled away soon after he said, "i want to show the integrity of the red bull brand.

he then laughed, "i'm joking. i wanted you to suck my cock while i wore it. after all, you liked men in uniform."

your eyes went wide for a moment, "every day you surprise me, max." then your hand was taken by your boyfriend and led back to the bedroom.

he looked over his shoulder as he led you and said, "well, you have a whole lifetime of surprises then." he got on the bed, with his back up against the headboard. he patted his thigh and you got between his legs.

"sometimes i forget how hot you are." you admitted.

he raised an eyebrow, "well, i guess i have to remind you then." then gestured for you to unzip the suit. he watched you careful eyes as you slowly unzipped it.

you felt your hand shake from anticipation as you zipped it all the way down, exposed his toned torso to you. you swallowed when you eyes trailed to his cock which was clothed by a pair of briefs. you noticed the bulge in them.

"like it?" he asked.

you looked up at him, "max, the first time i saw it on accident my jaw hit the floor. remember what i asked you?"

he scratched his jaw a little flustered, "you asked me if when i get hard if i lose all the blood in my head."

you nodded and reached for the waistband of his briefs. you pulled his cock out and without thinking licking your lips. you felt a shudder in your heart. you kissed the leaky tip and sighed contently.

this entire situation was hot. he looked good in the driver's suit. he looked good with red bull and the other branding across his body. he was a good racer and got good sponsors. he also had an impressive cock that fit nicely in your throat.

it was hefty and big, but not terrifying. it was a snug fit, but not a painful stretch. it was perfect just like the rest of him. you heard him relax further against the headboard and his large hand found the back of your head.

"ik had dit eerder moeten doen. als ik het had geweten, fuck." he shifted on the bed and let you take all of him in his mouth. as much as you threw around that max was a kinky man, you were almost toe to toe with him.

he knew you tried to act surprised, but he knew that you ate up any chance at exploring aspects of sex. and sometimes that meant him stealing his driving suit and letting you suck him off.

you held onto his thighs for support, the fabric under his fingers grounded you as you sucked him off. your eyes fluttered closed as you bobbed your head up and down.

your mouth felt like a dream. he held onto you and rocked up a little against your mouth.

"you feel so good." he panted as he felt the heat in his body. his heart was a loud thump in his ears as he stroked your hair. you looked so good laid out between his legs with his cock in your throat.

it was so painfully dirty that it lit a fire in max's stomach. he softly met your pace and pushed his cock a little further into your throat. he exhaled deeply as you just took him so well.

"do you like the uniform?" he asked, "maybe next time i'll fuck you while you're wearing it. " he chuckled a little.

you got your mouth off of him and stroked his cock quickly, "don't get cocky." you raised your eyebrows then leaned in to lick the swollen head, "not a good look on you."

he gripped your hair a little tighter and replied, "but you love it." then guided your mouth back onto his cock. he set the pace a little bit as he moved your head up and down his cock.

you got it slick all the way to his balls. his cock felt good on your tongue as you felt the heat curl in your stomach. the heat throbbed in your head.

you two continued to work together. the soft noises and the sounds of your mouth on his cock were in the air. the soft curses and heavy pants. the shifts on the bed.

max was deeply in love with you, not that it was something that you questioned. but when you were sucking the soul of out him, he felt a big swell of pride in his chest that you were his.

"shit, i'm close." he groaned, the sweat caused the suit to stick to his back. it felt good, but he was reaching his peak.

you pulled your mouth away from his cock and hastily jerked him off. you were both panting with an intense head rush. max ran his fingers through his hair once more before he tensed up and climaxed.

ropes of hot cum reached across his chest and splattered onto a few of the logos on the uniform. but he couldn't care in that moment. he did wish that he got to finish all over those cute cheeks of yours.

no time like the present for that dream as he reached down and pulled your mouth up against his still erect cock. between heavy pants he said, "keep it in your mouth next time. clean me up.'

you looked back up at him before you started to lick his cock. your core throbbed, you'd get yours soon enough. but your driver boyfriend wasn't done yet. <3

[occamstfs]

Follow Your Nose

Robin's not happy about visiting his student's frat house but with each heady breath he finds new pleasures to be gained from the experience.

Another Musk based Frat TF! Not breaking new ground but I like how this one turned out haha! Also in the wake of my contest I'm restarting the queue on my other blog so if you want to see what I read/have any burning questions send them over there! Hope you enjoy this little scent-centric romp! -Occam

Robin hated being on this side of campus; he doesn't know why on Earth he agreed to do a homecall for office hours. Totally unprofessional of course, but the grad student was simply so tired of sitting in his cold office for nary a soul to show up. When Carlos reached out asking for some one on one assistance the T.A. agreed to venture to what he was told was a common study area. What Carlos hid from Robin was that it just so happened to be his frat’s living room. 

The researcher almost turned around and rain checked as soon as he saw. But after Carlos texted to thank him for his help, whatever scholarly version of the Hippocratic oath he took compels him to continue onward despite himself. It of course doesn’t hurt that the slightly younger man seems to have been made in a lab to attract Robin. Though the professional has done his absolute best to remain professional and push down the repressed desire. Though as he steps in this is made far more difficult.

Carlos welcomes him into the frat house clad in a far too tight, clearly stained, tee and what seem to be, impossibly gaudy, similarly tight, athletic shorts. Immediately Robin’s face sears with blush and the smirk that is almost always at home on Carlos’ face grows wider. Before the fratty fiend can get a word in the grad student speaks up, fighting through an embarrassing voice crack, “uHm- Mr. Esperanza if you wouldn’t mind, could you change into something more appropriate for our session?” Carlos tilts his head, deliberately exposes his midriff as he scratches it. After a moment he laughs and answers remembering why he’s dressed like this, “Oh sure sure no problema bro.” 

Robin’s eye twitches as his student opts for bro rather than his title, name, or anything vaguely respectful. The T.A. hears the man’s hands scratching thick hair out of sight before he sniffs his hand and rubs his jaw, continuing, “It’s just uhhh, my laundry’s still in the machine so this is all I could throw on before you got in huhuh.” Robin holds his tongue from deriding the man’s shoddy planning, I mean for god’s sake they had an appointment!

So intent on hiding his attraction to, and irritation at, his student, Robin doesn’t quite catch the glint in his eye as Carlos offers an idea, “if you wouldn’t mind, uhhh, professor? You could go grab me some pants or somethin’” Not wanting to correct Carlos’ switch up to a title far loftier than his own and before he can even humor the idea that he’d wander deeper into the frat house, the bro thanks him as if he’s already agreed. “Thanks much lil bro- I’ll get us all set up here. It’ll be the third door on your right but you can probably just follow your nose hahah!”

Robin squints his eyes at the brazen assumption that he’d do anything of the sort. And yet, preferring anything to confrontation, he acquiesces with a sigh. The faster they start the faster Robin’s out of here. But a step down the hallway his nose wrinkles as he realizes that Carlos was not being cute, he can genuinely smell the laundry room far down the hall. Taking a deep breath and centering himself before the air is full of more musky sweat than oxygen, he shifts his jaw in irritation at the situation he stumbled himself into and presses onward.

Robin pushes open the unreasonably heavy door of the laundry room and enters. He hears the door slam but keeps his eyes forward as he endeavors to spend as little time in here as possible. Pushing down rational questioning of why he is doing this, in his haste he makes the mistake of opening the washing machine rather than a dryer that would presumably hold Carlos’ clothes. Before he even realizes his mistake he is almost blasted back by the potent musk spilling out of the drum. Choking out a ‘why wasn’t this run…” as his eyes glaze over and he is overwhelmed by the scent.

It’s as if there are more particles of sweat in the air than, uh, air. His mouth falls open to avoid smelling but that only heightens the experience and leads to him taking deeper breaths. Despite everything in him screaming to leave now, Robin feels himself drawn towards the machine that simply must have been intentionally compiled to smell as musky as possible. As the seconds pass Robin feels his body begin to move of its own accord, like an out of body experience he sees himself inch closer to the machine. There’s a struggled swallow as he is suddenly conscious that he is drooling at the scent of the frat’s dirty laundry.

When his hand reaches into the filthy load of laundry he feels his autonomy return and he quickly draws back. Clothes almost crunchy with sweat, and other substances, he stands stunned as he tries to understand what he just did, why he did that. Only then does he notice that he is so hard that anyone who glanced in his direction would notice. It almost hurts as his cock strains against his underwear and pulses with deep need. 

Priority rapidly shifting to hiding his massive erection should Carlos stumble in Robin opts to adjust his pants. Rather than doing it surreptitiously as he would usually do, he shoves his hand directly in his underwear in a manner distinctly boorish. Notably he also plods around his underpants with his dominant hand, the same one that only just left the frat’s collection of their dirtiest tops, bottoms, and drawers.

Stained hand now touching his cock he is overwhelmed with the desire to never remove it from this spot again. Drool still pooling in his mouth, Robin almost forgets his surroundings as cock seems more impressive than it’s ever been before now. Or no, his hand seems larger, rougher, more powerful. He squints as the seconds pass and the sensations continue to shift before he looks down to find that his bulge is indeed larger than he has ever seen it. Biting his lip he glances at the door and, demonstrating his clearly fading rationality, decides ‘fuck it’ and pulls out his cock.

Haloed with pubes that are growing thicker, spreading further, with each quivering breath and graced touch from his stained hand. Pre drips from the head of his thicker cock as it stands high, beginning to rival the length of his forearm as it inches longer with each heartbeat, each uncontrollable pulse. He cups his balls to remove them from his underwear and is again struck dumb. God they’re itchy. 

He scratches at them as his nails almost draw back into his hand, to the eye of an observer they shift from manicured to the deliberately uncared for, dirty nails of a frat bro. Thus he must dig even deeper to satisfy his itching balls as long, thick curls begin to spread across them. Each drag across finds them larger than they were less than a second before. Each mindless scratch they hang lower, stretch his sack larger as his balls begin to rival the size of eggs and churn to fill him with hormones that will make it all the harder for him to think his way out of this, or any, room. 

Despite his mind awash, feeling his hand begin to mindlessly move to start masturbating in this frat’s laundry room he regains his senses. Fear suddenly overwhelms his lusts and need for pleasure as he tries to inspect his body. Looking down at his hands he finds they both have changed and the horrors have not stopped there. Thick dark hair and a haphazard tan have spread up his forearms and as he feels heat begin to burn on his bicep it’s clear this is a situation still ongoing. Robin struggles to stand and falls over on his face, squarely landing in some brute’s discarded briefs. Fighting back a smirk as he is inoculated with a direct dose of his frat brother’s musk, Robin rolls over in fear of the changes that must be about to begin on his face.

His nose adjusts as memories of breaking it twice assert themselves into his mind. Rob feels his biceps bulge against his forearms as he raises his hands to his face. Grunting and ignoring how much deeper his voice is as it echoes in the room, he talks to himself to begin his flight, “Mrgh, I gotta, get out of here.” Trying to pull his pants up, before they can even struggle to cover his monumental bulge and increasingly cushioned ass, his jeans are caught on his thighs. Muscle and fat press larger as they become two massive meaty trunks. Dropping the pants to inspect his suddenly impressive legs he flexes them and goes weak at the knees as desire tries to take over once more. 

Rob only just fights these rising instincts and makes for the door. Then does he find the most clearly sinister aspect of this situation yet, it’s locked. His uhh, boy? His bro. Yeah his bro trapped him in here. Fuckin’ Carlos did this to him on purpose he bets. Leaning against the door he finds his breathing suddenly inhibited by the tight shirt that he’s been wearing. Seeing his waist has apparently filled out, his stomach quivers with butterflies. He’s always been envious of his bro’s forms but man he looks just as killer huhuh. His widening upper body sends tears through the shirt without his hands even needing to tear the top off. 

Dressed in nothing but torn shreds on the floor of the, er his, frat’s laundry room Rob’s clouded mind observes the final touches of his new form. Weighty pecs pulse larger and hang over his new thick torso. Hamhock thighs frame a bulge that would make any mouth water. He scratches stubble growing thicker on his face while he begins to thoughtlessly masturbate against the laundry room door. Stretching his neck as it thickens to hold up a head growing thicker and mind growing duller, his mouth falls open and he appreciates the musk of his bros as if it's the most pleasant thing in the world to him. Were this the rest of his life the horny bro wouldn’t mind. Rubbing his torso as thick curls begin to decorate him like a beast. Treasure trail stretching from pubes thicker than foliage. He raises his free arm to bathe in his own musk.

His mouth waters as he realizes he doesn’t need to use these other’s fucker clothes to get off! He’s got the sweet stuff right here. Any shreds remaining of the prudish, frat-phobic teacher’s assistant vacate as he delights in his own pit. Thickening curls spread outward from deep in his pits as a truly voluminous mass begins to press out from under his arms. His tongue stretches out from his mouth into the jungle as it grows thicker, perpetually soaked in his new musk. And then Rob loses control. Decorating the walls and himself and finally adding his own mess to their little ode to locker rooms everywhere. 

Tongue out enjoying himself in what is apparently his new home, sweat begins to pool under the man’s discovery of new delights. It seems like forever for him but in reality, a few minutes later he feels the door push into him, “Yooo bro what’s takin’ you so long?” Carlos opens the door and pinches his nose to avoid the stink of the room and the overpowering scent of Rob’s first time.

 Rob’s dumb smirk and glazed eyes meet Carlos’ mischievous grin and the new brother speaks in his new bass, “Uhhh, didn’t you lock me in here bro?” His brother stifles laughter and ruffles Rob’s sweaty new haircut, “You dumbass huhuh- It’s a pull door.” It takes a few seconds for Carlos’ words to sink in but after realizing that he simply forgot how doors work he joins in laughing loud enough to shake the foundations of their frat house. “Brooo huhuh!” 

“Now throw something on so we can figure this shit out!” Rob goes to grab clothes from some stray hamper filled with someone’s dirty laundry and heads out. Walking out of his musky captivity, Rob finds a new warmth fill him as he wanders into the house, into his house. The frat didn’t quite need a new member but Carlos is more than happy to make the most out of his new brother. Not all of them are so unabashedly into their own musk but judging by Rob’s changes and the already returning erection in his shorts, Carlos can’t wait to see what the two of them will get up to in their new lives together.

[blockgamepirate]

This is my petty complaint time, this video annoys me SO MUCH and even more so what annoys me is that the latest comment on it is this:

HE TAUGHT YOU SO MUCH BULLSHIT, PLEASE NO, DON'T LISTEN TO HIM

And yes, I've been thinking about this stream for nearly three years now, I've been meaning to go through it to critique Wilbur's arguments, I just never got around to it

Wilbur: "Tubbo, you've created an anti-state capitalist dystopia"

So all Tubbo had explained so far was that his town had a big company that owned two other big companies. Nothing about the government or anything. It's true that one company owning all the major businesses is pretty dystopian, sure, but I have no idea where Wilbur got the "anti-state" thing from, usually capitalist companies are fine with the existence of states, states do a lot of dirty work for the capitalists

Spoiler alert: Tubbo's city turns out to be pretty much a city state so Wilbur is just wrong anyway, not that he ever acknowledges it even when it does come up

Also it's not like corporate acquisitions are completely unheard of in the UK, as far as I know. Admittedly the UK is also arguably a capitalist dystopia but you know what I mean, the concept shouldn't be all that shocking to Wilbur

He's being so dramatic and trying to make it sound like he's caught Tubbo in a mistake or something. He also keeps asking questions and then not letting Tubbo answer properly before taking like one word Tubbo says and running with it

But this is the one that I find the most obnoxious:

T: "I did some research into like economics and stuff and I discovered this thing called UBI, have you heard of it?"

W: "What's it stand for?"

T: "Universal Basic Income"

W: "Yeah, I know about that"

He clearly does not know what UBI is.

It becomes very apparent very quickly:

W: "So you've got universal basic income but then also the rich exist still?"

T: "Yeah! Yeah they do."

W: "How does that come about then,"

T: "So in my mind--"

W: "is this universal basic income different for different people?"

T: "No, no, the universal basic income is better for everyone, just the people who have--"

W: "In order for there to be a 1% that means someone's earning more,"

T: "Yes, someone is earning more"

W: "but that means the universal basic income isn't universal!"

T: "No no no, not everyone's getting paid the same but everyone gets the same to begin with, okay? But then you can build on top of it."

W: "Oh no, you've got a-- Tubbo, you've got a fucking social point system!"

T: "Have I made a social point system??"

W: "Tubbo, you've made China!"

None of what Wilbur says makes ANY sense here. The only explanation I can think of is that he didn't know what UBI was, made an assumption that it just meant "everybody gets paid the same amount of money" or something like that and then just spoke fast enough that Tubbo couldn't correct him

Tubbo is correct here, Tubbo knows what he's talking about, but he can't out-speak Wilbur who is just throwing so much bullshit out of his mouth that there's no time to even respond

So, UBI means that everyone in the society gets a regular payment of a specific amount of money that's the same for everyone regardless of their life situation (and generally a requirement would be that it has to be enough to live on, altho people do like to water this down a lot...) This would be completely irrelevant to your wages or salary or capital gains. You can choose to either live on the UBI or you can just do the regular capitalist things to earn extra money on top of the UBI

Obviously I'm not one of those people who think that UBI would solve all of world's problems, I mean I am an anarchist and all (and not an ancap either), but it's literally just a very streamlined welfare system. That's all. It would probably be a lot better than the current models we have but it's not fundamentally different. There's nothing particularly weird about it, the point is just to make sure that everyone has enough money to live on, in every other regard it's just normal capitalism

Wilbur completely misunderstands the whole thing (because, again, he does not know what UBI is so he's just trying to imagine what it might mean based on what Tubbo is saying) and jumps immediately to something he apparently has heard of, which is the Chinese social credit system, which has nothing to do with UBI. In fact I'm pretty sure it also doesn't actually have anything to do with income either, or at least not directly, so I don't think Wilbur knows what the social credit system is either

He's literally just talking in buzzwords

Like if you actually wanted to make a leftist critique of Tubbo's city, you could, don't get me wrong. But instead Wilbur keeps insisting that he's made a social point system despite Tubbo trying to explain why it's not that at all

Wilbur just keeps yelling over Tubbo until his own chat turns against him and finally Tubbo himself also kinda gives up

And from there Tubbo also kinda just starts playing into the bit and just lets Wilbur direct the whole conversation, the rest of it is just them getting more and more into the roleplay. Wilbur keeps talking about the state pension plan, even though Tubbo already tried to explain that it's part of the UBI (this actually is how UBI is supposed to work, it does indeed streamline most of the welfare spending! Obviously you can still raise questions about that (I can think of a few at least) but Wilbur didn't let Tubbo explain so I have no idea what Tubbo actually had in mind)

I could try to go through all of what Wilbur says here but it's just too much, so maybe some other time. Although to be honest there are so many other streams that I probably should talk about instead that some fans unfortunately took a bit too seriously because they assumed Wilbur knew what he was talking about

My point here is mainly that just because someone sounds really confident and knows a bunch of buzzwords doesn't mean they know what they're talking about.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: your mother had warned you. Don't let them know, she'd said, her nails digging angry crescents into the flesh of your upper arms, eyes wild and imploring, don't let them know you can see. you'd listened, all these years, you'd lived your life by that rule. until you couldn't.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.1

Like most things, it started with a look.

A boy. A girl. A crowded place; a friend talking—their voice muted as if heard through a motel wall. Time slows. People filter in and out of the space between, chatting, laughing, in frame just long enough to emphasize the weight behind something that, in any other context, would be utterly unimportant.

Simon had urged you outside at lunch, pulled you away from your table, tone frayed in desperation as he interrogated you about things you're certain you'd made seem the expression of a morbidly quirky imagination.

"Well," He said, like jabbing the eraser-end of a pencil into your sternum, "Can you?"

You hesitated, gaze lifting away from his to skirt the middle-distance behind him.

And then—

It happened molasses-slow. Your eyes caught his; lingered a beat too long to be played off as anything other than what it was. Acknowledgment.

Those sweet-sultry cow eyes widened a fraction.

Oh no.

Then time rushed back in and snapped into the correct rhythm. You didn't have a chance to process what had just happened because Simon sighed with the weight of the world, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling. Quickly, you arranged your expression into something slightly put-off.

"Si, what are you talking about?"

Simon groaned and took a few steps back then forward again. He reminded you of a caged animal being forced to perform. Lately, his mannerisms had been erratic, a little unhinged. You'd caught him talking to himself a couple of times, in classrooms or the cafeteria. The last couple of days he'd been glued to his phone, taking spontaneous calls that he'd never received before. Initially, you'd assumed he was in touch with Maddie; the only one she'd trusted enough to keep in the loop. However, the more you'd observed, the more you'd doubted the assumption.

You'd watched him unravel from a distance, of course. Nicole had turned inward, Simon was bursting at the seams, and you, as the casual friend with a life separate to theirs, stayed away out of a sense of insecurity.

You and Maddie hadn't been as close as she and Simon and Nicole. You shared interests in the macabre and spooky, but that's where it ended. Event Buddies who became familiar through exposure, lacking that profound connection that would give you a reason to call about something other than the next horror film release date.

You didn't feel right about asking to share their grief. It felt intrusive.

Simon paced the length of the bus shelter once more before stopping in front of you. He was clearly nervous, frustrated, avoiding your gaze for a second while he collected his thoughts.

Finally, he took a deep breath, glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, and said, low and secret, "You talked about the ghosts here—" You folded your arms and tilted your head in what you hoped came across as confused. "—Last year," Simon grabbed your arm and pulled you in closer when a group of younger girls walked by, "Last year, you told us about the crush you had on your mom's dead boyfriend, remember? The guy who died during the '83 homecoming game?"

"They never dated." You corrected, fighting the urge to chew your lip. A giveaway that you were about to choose your words very carefully. "But, look, Simon, I talked about that stuff because I thought it was fun. Not because I can commune with the dead."

"But your mom—"

"Is a fraud and you know it." Then you frowned, genuinely intrigued, "What's going on?"

Simon shot you a dazed look, "Huh?"

"Why are you suddenly into this Sixth Sense shit? You've never believed in it before. A stance you've made very clear you take." Every time you joked about reaching out to the Other Side, Simon would scoff and roast you endlessly. Something that you found endearing. Like a prickly inside joke. It was your thing.

Suddenly, Simon got that look on his face, the one he got in class when your teachers outlined your homework. As if he were listening to someone. Except there was no one else close enough to hear.

The silence stretched into a thin static between you until, at last, Simon said, "Never mind." He sounded equal parts defeated and aggravated.

Taking a cautious step forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about Maddie, Si, I—" Have no idea how to put into words how fucked up it all is, "—I wish there was something, anything, I could do to help."

Simon pressed his lips together and nodded. From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching the bus shelter. Tall, broad, donning the unmistakable colors of the Split River Bandits, née Devils. You had to get out of there before you irrevocably fucked up and found yourself at the center of what your mother warned you would be a swarm.

"Look," You dropped your hand to Simon's, squeezing supportively. You might not have been able to tell the whole truth but you could try to offer some comfort. Whether or not he believed you was up to him. "Maddie's okay, Simon. Wherever she is. Whatever happened to her..." You paused, considering your next words, "She can't be so far gone that we won't get her back."

You said it with all the conviction you had in you, believed it to your core.

You'd seen the beatnik with her lollipops, the shy boy with the glasses; you'd seen the young man in the outdated suit, and the modest, Sally Olsson lookalike, and the girl with the daydream eyes. You'd seen the myspace emo punk, the lanky autoshop geek, the dark-skinned disco queen; the marching band, and the theater kid...and him. The charming, high-on-life football star currently stood outside the bus shelter, his hands cupped around his eyes as he peeked through the glass against the glare of the sun.

You hadn't seen Maddie. Not a glimmer or a shadow or the impression that she'd been and gone. Nothing. And you'd done your due diligence as soon as you'd heard about the blood in the boiler room. You'd scoured the town after dark, before school, whenever you could get away without raising suspicion. Her old haunts and favorite places had been empty.

Minus a couple of exceptions, but they hadn't been Maddie, so you didn't see the harm in continuing to keep the truth from Simon.

"Yeah." Simon said. He didn't sound convinced. "Thanks. For that."

You deflated, released his hand with an affirming squeeze, and made your excuse, "I gotta get ready for next period."

He didn't meet your eyes, simply pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. "See you later." The smile he gave you was tight, quick, insincere.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned and exited the bus shelter, tall dark 'n' handsome keeping pace as you made your way back into the school, his gaze a warm weight on the side of your face.

All you had to do was pretend he wasn't there. You'd done it countless times in the past, were well-versed in how to cover your mistakes.

You stopped briefly, reached out to open the door, and in that second, you felt a tingle up your spine and the closeness of a body behind you. His voice, a gentle rumble, spoke directly into your ear, the parody of soft breath tickling the hairs on your neck.

"I know you can see me."

You forced yourself not to react, perhaps stood a second too long before yanking the door open and marching inside, but you kept your eyes forward, and relaxed your jaw and shoulders. To the students milling about the hall, you were the picture of normal.

"Do what you want but I'm not going anywhere until you admit it." He said lightly, a step behind you as you maneuvered toward your locker.

Once again, you had to stop, twisting in the combination to open your lock. You fumbled, missing a number, had to start again. He leaned his shoulder against the locker beside yours, watched you through his lashes, a smirk pulling one side of his mouth upward.

You'd always been attracted to him. Had to suppress the urge to stare at him when he appeared in the same classroom or hallway you happened to be in. Having him interact with you, intentionally, made your heart quicken and the ability to think critically dissolve.

Oh God, not again...

Your brain fired a thousand synapses in every direction as you willed yourself to hurry before you accidentally did something stupid; steadied your hand to input the combination correctly. You tugged the lock. It stayed stubbornly latched. And then he leaned in, too close, the tip of his nose practically grazing your temple.

"You missed the 3."

The air was syrupy thick, fuzzy. In an effort to concentrate, you closed your eyes, repeating a mantra your mother had taught you to center yourself.

You sensed his body shift, tilted further toward you like a bracket, then the sensation of blunt nails traveling up up up your back, catching in the material of your shirt as if the touch were real. Goosebumps erupted over your arms, your breath hitched, and you found your head slanting in his direction.

Fuck. You needed to—BANG—Jesus Christ!

Your eyes snapped open at the abrupt noise, your friend cackling wickedly as she took in your shock.

"Hey, silly." Mathilda Grace—of The Split River Graces, not that she'd ever say it like that—grinned proudly at the reaction she'd gotten out of you. "You ready to fail this test with me?"

You could still feel him hovering, but it seemed he'd put an appropriate amount of distance between you. Shaking your head to clear the last of the muzziness from a moment ago, you plastered on your most natural smile and responded, "Let's go disappoint our parents."

You managed to undo the lock and grab the right textbooks, transferring what you didn't need from your bag into your locker while Mathilda regaled you with what you'd missed after Simon had dragged you outside.

"What did he want, anyway?" Mathilda asked, more concerned than curious.

"To talk about Maddie." You replied as close to the truth as you dared. It had the added benefit of making Mathilda feel awkward enough to change the subject immediately.

"K, c'mon, bell's about to go and I need to grab my book, too."

Shutting and locking your locker, you chanced a sideways glance and were relieved to find that it was just you and Mathilda and the regular stream of other alive-and-well students making their way to their next class.

Still, as you and Mathilda walked toward Ms. Fields' class, you felt the tingle of his gaze on the back of your neck.

The next couple of days would be white-knuckle hard, but you'd dealt with it before and could do it again. Had to do it again.

What you didn't anticipate—and probably should've, given what you knew about him—was Wally Clark's steadfast determination and his refusal to let sleeping dogs lie for a second time.

💀___________________________

PART TWO

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Well, Actually

Summary: Spencer gets frustrated as Reader proves him wrong about an unsub's profile.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff-ish

Content warnings: discussions of gender, sexy implications, Ernest Hemingway

Word count: 1.5k

It’s when I flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED that I can finally breathe. Saturday Sale Days at the bookstore are usually easygoing, but most people took refuge at the windows thanks to the crime scene across the street. Another sex worker was murdered, according to the agents who were here earlier. Well, one of them looked like an agent; coated from head to toe in black and seriousness. The other, however, might as well have been a pretentious preppy middle schooler who thinks a doctorate — three doctorates (he made sure to correct me) — gives him the excuse to lack social graces.

I’m not used to running into FBI agents regularly. However, I’m fairly confident that questioning civilians is more about further insight and not running to the end with confirmation bias. Dr. Reid, on the other hand, had his confirmation set that he and his team were looking for a woman riddled with internalized misogyny who was killing sex workers and leaving quotes from Ernest Hemingway pieces.

So, is it wrong that I may or may not have said they might actually be looking for a male with possible gender nonconformity issues? According to the quotes written in lipstick and discussions revolving around Hemingway’s relationship with gender, it was the first thing to pop into my head.

And it was Dr. Reid’s first instinct to take it personally, like any other gifted child who’s never learned what it’s like to be wrong (possibly). His reaction mainly consisted of raising his voice and saying my assumption “was not relevant to our case” and taking a collection of Hemingway’s short stories without paying for it. I haven’t found a suitable way to explain that to my boss yet.

Regardless of his reaction, I had no reason to expect to see him again. I got a card from Agent Prentiss after she questioned me behind the counter and haven’t heard a word since. It didn’t matter then because we were closed, and I had the day off tomorrow —

Knock, knock, knock. A simple three-raps on the glass. The night makes it difficult to see who it is, but I’m more than familiar with the panic button under the register. So before I turn the lights out, I get closer to the door to find out who on the other side can’t read.

And without thinking, I open the door, but don't let him in. “Agent Reid.” I can’t help but push him just a bit.

“Dr. Reid.”

“Right.” I faked a laugh (years of practice). “Well as you can see we’re closed for the night so —”

His hand is out, holding the book. The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway. The paper cover is already pulled up at the corners and the spine is cracked. Nothing display worthy, that’s for sure. “I took this.”

“And you had it for six hours. How did you decimate it so quickly?”

“I was using it as a source while we were trying to solve the case.” His hand was shaking, from nervousness or lack of strength to hold a paperback in one hand for longer than a minute, either could be possible. “I figured a way to make amends was to come back and purchase it.”

I looked down at the book and looked back up at him. Sincerity and boyish charm force me to hold the door open for him and let him in. When he comes in, his under eyes are darker, perhaps because he's a night owl, or because of his job. His hair is still fluffy like this morning but droopy.

He was prepared to call it a night before coming here. But thievery is apparently too heavy for this agent’s shoulders.

I walk to the register, booting up the fancy tablet. “So did you? Solve the case, I mean?”

“We did.”

I scan the barcode, luckily he didn’t ruin that. “And? Did she explain the Hemingway quotes at least?”

Silence, only for a moment. I see his hands digging into his pockets. He pulls out a debit card and hands it over. “He, actually.”

“What?”

“He didn’t explain the Hemingway quotes but said he targeted sex workers because they were ‘freer than he ever would be.’”

Silence swallowed the room immediately upon saying that but of a different kind. The kind that was ripe for me to brag and possibly even do a little dance. But I’m patient, and I don’t like interrupting people. I tap the screen slowly so the good doctor can gather the words. I even took another glance and his eyes were already locked on me. It would’ve made me jump if he didn’t follow it with “You were right.”

There it is. “Hmm,” I say as I keep the arrogance down to a minimum as I contemplate my next words. I take his receipt and scribble before bagging the book. “So do I get a one-way ticket into the bureau, or do I take your place or —”

“Thank you for your help." He says slowly as if he were being ordered to apologize. Like he wrote these words in a document before coming here. “Your observation sent us in the right direction.” His hand is out, waiting.

I also have a talent for dragging things out. When I shut the techy stuff down again, I go back around and hand them to him, so I can get closer. Read his face. When he reaches out and just touches the paper, I jerk the bag back. “That’s not what you want to say.” I let the bag dangle off two of my fingers, shamelessly drinking in the moment. “Come on, it’s gotta be killing you.”

He rolls his eyes. Briefly, but enough for me to notice. “What could be killing me?”

“That you, an FBI agent, with two PhDs —”

“Three PhDs.”

This is so fun. “Three PhDs was outsmarted by a girl who works in a bookstore. Merely a bachelor's on my resume.”

“That is not the case.” He says.

“It seems relevant to the case now.” That intended to burn, and it did. Scorched actually. I could feel it from here, so I walked to the back to find the lights, expecting him to follow me.

He did. The creaking of the old wood floors echoed as we walked, there was no rhythm or synced steps, just two different walking patterns, one at ease and the other eager. “Just tell me how you figured it out.” He says. “Hemingway has been praised for his writing style and the way he wrote certain female characters but his macho personality indicated he enjoyed nothing feminine.”

A chuckle might have been appropriate, but I replied with a stark laugh. A bold “Ha!” As I opened the lightroom door. “Because macho men are known for being the happiest people on Earth, according to history.�� With a click, the lights flickered steadily before turning off. I had my phone flashlight ready, though. “Honestly, Dr. Reid, it might be worthwhile to take a break from reading and watch a documentary on the man. It adds up quickly, even someone like you would get it.” I let the flashlight guide me back to the front, avoiding collateral damage from bookshelf corners.

Until Dr. Reid stepped in front of me, causing my head to collide with his chest. Somehow, I didn’t drop my phone and instinctively reached for my nose. “Someone like me?”

“Ow, first of all. But yes.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I rub my nose in the dark. “That even a predictable bookish boy like you can eventually come to grips with the fact that he doesn’t know everything.”

“And you do?” He asked.

“I never said that,” I admitted.

He looked at me skeptically. Even in the dark, I could feel my arrogance might have gotten the best of me here. I tried looking away, to another dark space. 

He, however, did not. “What else did you say? Predictable?”

“You mean you don’t remember?”

He sighs, and air from his nose brushes above my lip.

Then so does his hand in my hair.

His lips, though, were quite the opposite. As if all his frustrations couldn’t take it anymore and needed to be let out with a teeth-smashing, saliva-coated spectacle (that no one could see. Not even us.) All I felt was wandering hands and the wall hitting the back of my head before he pulled away. His hands are still on my waist, and he breathes sharply in and out. “Was that predictable?” I heard him swallow.

I contemplated my response for a short while, wondering which one, a yes or a no, would get him to do it again. So instead, I just grabbed where I assumed his head would be and jerked him down to meet my lips again. It worked. His hands wrapped tight as if he glued himself to my skin. “Will you get reprimanded by your team for being somewhere you aren’t?” I ask between breaths and lip separation.

“Maybe. I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”

“I won’t admit anything,” I said. Whether it was to see Dr. Reid’s night turn out worse, or to keep a secret from his boss about a makeout session in a bookstore, I’m not sure. But his body was thin, layered with clothes. Warm.

“What will you admit to?” He whispers, moving our bodies, begging for more kisses. Or just more.

“Dinner?”

“For?”

“Education purposes, Dr. Reid.” My hands can’t help but explore. “Seems like we’ve got a lot to learn.”

[pinguwrites]

Our True Nature | Tom Buckley

Pairing -> dom!tom buckley x student!psychic!reader

Summary -> You're different, you always have been; you've know that ever since you were a little kid who made your toys float in the air. Despite your great abilities you've pursued a rather humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Tom and sub!reader, age-gap (not specified, but reader is college-aged), praise kink, slight degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, um superpower play??? telekinesis play??? I don't know what that shit's called, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, tom is wild and says dirty stuff, weird magic lore I made up (you can trust me, I used to write fantasy), mild hamilton reference ig, rough sex but not much emphasis on it

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

When you first saw him it was like the world around you stopped. The rain that had been pouring down like a storm the entire day ceased its brutal assault, and in that week of dull weather and gray skies, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds and cast a heavenly glow around his body.

He looked like an angel. Dark hair caressed by sunlight, eyes as pale blue as a glacier, and the most handsome face you’d ever seen. It was all right there, across the parking lot of the university, just waiting to be seen. A god amongst humans, a flower in a field of grass.

But then the moment passed. He walked away, without any word or acknowledgment, like he never even saw you at all. It wasn’t until later on did you realize who this man was — Tom Buckley, your new professor’s assistant.

You supposed that was when the attraction started. You tried to kid yourself and say that it was actually halfway through the year when he started offering private study sessions, or when he made it a point to greet you good morning every day, or even when he insisted you call him Tom, but you knew the truth. You had fallen for him the second you saw him but were only too ashamed to admit it.

A god amongst humans.

It was a silly phrase you used to describe him. He wasn’t a god. Not even close to one. He was nothing like you. He couldn’t see visions of the future, or make a door open and close at his whim. He was just a person, a person you had a silly, undeniable crush on. A person you could not stop staring at.

He was currently leading the lesson today, showcasing a video on how a fake psychic used tricks behind the scenes to fool her audience, but you weren’t paying attention at all. Your chin was resting in your hand, and your gaze was upon Tom like he was the only thing that mattered.

You could barely see him in the poor lighting. The best you got was a figure and a shadow on the projection, but that didn’t deter you at all. All you wanted was to observe him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way his hands would gesture as he explained the concepts students didn’t understand.

He seemed to notice your blatant staring, because after the video ended and he turned the lights back on, his eyes locked with yours, and he did what he always did: made you stay behind after class.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. It was a routine question. When the students got up to leave you would approach his desk, feigning confusion, waiting for him to say, ‘No, nothing, I just wanted to look over the assignment with you.’

You were sure your friends thought you were dumb. Why else would you need extra help all the time? but that was a much better assumption than the idea that you were fucking Mr. Buckley, so you never bothered correcting them.

“No, nothing, I just . . . ” Tom started but then trailed off. From this distance, you could properly admire the light freckles scattered across his pale face and took a moment to save the image in your head. When he continued, your attention snapped back. “I have a couple of questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.” He looked a little nervous for some reason. The walk to his office was spent trying to deduce why. Maybe something was wrong this time.

You sat down on one of the chairs by his desk. His room was filled with all sorts of odd things, namely technology used to disprove — or prove — paranormal activity. Occasionally, this material would be showcased in class, and he and Matheson would do replicas of former encounters to demonstrate how they worked.

You always paid very close attention to those days, in case you ever need the information in the future. How to Evade Ghost Hunters 101!

“What is it? Have I really done something wrong this time?” you joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He laughed. A beautiful smile.

“Of course not, you’re my star student.” Your heart warmed at that. “I just wanted to test some things out with you. For the curriculum, Dr. Matheson and I were considering adding it to the course, and we want your opinion.”

You nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tarot card pack.

“We want to do a lesson on how pictures and symbolism can be manipulated to fit the victim’s life,” he said, shuffling the deck. “Tarot cards are so vague and general — The Fool, for example, represents new beginnings and adventure. Is that not the foundation of everyone’s life? To explore, to be inexperienced?”

You agreed. “And how are you planning on presenting this to the class? Give out a tarot reading to everyone?”

Tom chuckled. “I just want to try it out with you, to prove it.”

He held out the cards for you to pick, but you stopped him. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you what I want to know?”

There was a brief silence, and if you looked carefully, you could see a light pink tinge glaze over his cheeks, and his breathing hitch ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Don’t worry. Whatever you want to know about me,” you offered, amused at his reaction. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I want to know your secrets,” he admitted. “I want to know what you’re hiding.”

“You’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“We’ll see.”

You picked three cards and placed them down on the table. Each representative of either the past, present, or future, or at least, that’s how you were assuming he was doing the reading.

He turned the first card. It was The Star, reversed. 

“Something in the past was bothering you,” he said. “You felt hopeless, like you had no more motivation . . . Am I right in guessing it was the result of something specific?”

“Yes,” you said. Obviously, his reading wasn’t true, how could it be? he wasn’t like you, but he was definitely right about the way people manipulated the symbolism. You doubted he knew the real reason why you had been so depressed.

He flipped over the next card. The Lovers. 

He grinned. “I’m sure you can guess what this means. Are you in a relationship?”

You shook your head.

“Then it’s about a potential someone. You’ll find your complimentary, someone you can balance with — it could be platonic, or romantic, but no matter the type of relationship, they’ll be loving, and supportive.”

You looked into his eyes before returning your attention back down to the cards. Oh, how you wished it was him. 

He turned the last card.

“The Ten of Cups. Your desires will be fulfilled. You’ll be happy, whatever problems you had in the past will be resolved.”

It was silent for a moment. You expected him to ask you questions of how accurate it was, and how quickly you connected his predictions to events in your life, but he didn’t.

“Do you believe in magic?” he asked bluntly. “The supernatural? You either do or you don’t, I can’t imagine you’d be wasting your time in this class if your opinion was neutral.”

You felt like you’d been put right on the spot. You thought about the right way to answer. “I believe in it, in the sense that I’m open about what we don’t know, and am optimistic about all the possibilities.”

He all but rolled his eyes. “C’mon. That was so wordy. I want to hear the truth.”

He leaned in closer. Your faces were inches apart, and you could feel his minty breath on your face. 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I believe in magic.”

He pulled away, satisfied. “I believe in magic, too.”

You quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen it in action?”

“Maybe,” he answered vaguely, a grin on his face. “Let me see your palm.”

You wanted to laugh, but you yourself was very eager to comply with his demands, not because you thought the experiments were interesting, but rather you enjoyed spending time with him, and the prospect of him touching you—even though it was only your hand—was thrilling.

Tom caressed the lines on your palms. He was distracted by it.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you so drawn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was only something based on lust and looks, but this was more. You didn’t just like him, you found him utterly attractive, in a way that surpassed physicality.

It certainly wasn’t his personality. You thought you two were compatible in mentality, and you got along well, but he was rather boring. He wasn’t fiery nor exciting, nothing that could take you off guard or pique your curiosity. 

He was intelligent. He told you he used to study physics, something you just had to respect him for, but you didn’t know that until just recently, and it’s not like his day-to-day actions showcased his genius. 

You really didn’t know what it was, and a part of not knowing made it all the more mysterious. But it also made you feel vulnerable. In less than a year, you had become so hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with someone. He could do anything and you wouldn’t blink an eye. He had so much power over you, and he didn’t even know it.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You pulled your hand away, too flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took your hand again, unrelenting. He gripped it tighter, encasing it in his warmth. It felt so nice.

“Between us,” he clarified, his voice low. He was gazing at you intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like me?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “I see you do things, impossible things. When you drop a pencil in class it floats back up to your hand, when your coffee gets too cold I see you wrap your hand around the cup and make it bubble. No one else notices, but I do. I see it.”

You froze, or rather, your mind was instantly filled with so many thoughts you couldn’t comprehend them all at once. 

You thought you were careful with your abilities because up until now, no one had caught you. Not since you were a teenager who copied off others during a test, not since you got your first car and put it on autopilot so you could sleep during a drive, not even since you were a little girl who was too lazy to tie her own braid at school. 

“T-Tom,” you stuttered. “I don’t . . .”

And what was that he said about being like him? Was he implying that he could do these things too? That after all these years of searching, you’d finally found another psychic?

Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what I was saying. Just forget it.”

He cleared his throat. You still didn’t say anything. It was like someone had pressed a mute button and you couldn’t speak, no matter how badly you wanted to say something.

“You should go,” he suggested. “Thank you, for all the help.”

He stood up, and you did too, mirroring his actions. He lead you over to the exit. “Have a nice day, I look forward to seeing you in class next week.”

You turned around, not wanting to leave yet. “Tom . . .”

He was about to close the door when you stopped it with your foot, budged it open, and leapt into his arms, placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All that you knew was that you wanted him. Badly. As you pushed your way back inside the room, you feared for a moment that he was going to shove you off, tell you he didn’t mean it like that, but he didn’t. He pulled you inside and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and sat you on top of his desk, returning the kiss with even more intensity.

“Tom,” you all but moaned. You felt confused and dazed, but with the way Tom was nibbling at your neck, sucking and licking, you could tell he wasn’t in the same boat as you. You relaxed, letting everything go. You could let him take care of this—whatever this was. Let him take care of you.

“Can I take it off?” he asked in between kisses. He tugged at your shirt, fingers hovering above the buttons.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please, please, please—”

The buttons unbuttoned themselves. You gasped a little in surprise as your shirt was tossed to the side. That was all the confirmation you needed—Tom Buckley was just like you. 

The realization that you had finally found another was lost when he started kneading your breasts through your bra. “Such a needy girl,” he cooed. “Didn’t know she could get like that. Doesn’t want to answer my questions but needs me to please her.”

“Fuck,” you let out, surprised at the dirty talk, but pleased nonetheless. “I just want you.”

“I know you do. Staring at me like a piece of meat in class. That’s all I am to you, hmm? Just a hot teacher to fuck. You tell your little friends about me?”

“No!” You whined when his hands went underneath your bra and pinched your nipple. “Ow! I’ve never told anyone.”

“Ah, I knew you were a good girl.”

You whined again and nuzzled your head in the crook of his shoulder, not wanting him to see how flustered he was making you. 

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, unclasping your bra, watching your breasts fall out. “Beautiful girl . . . Can I suck?”

“Yes!” you said impatiently. You found it sexy that he kept asking for permission, but also annoying—he needed to get straight to the point, and stop teasing you.

He latched his lip onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, occasionally nipping on it. While his mouth was occupied, his hands were roaming your body, up to your face and down to as far as he could reach, which while you were sitting down, was all the way to your ankles.

He switched nipples and went to your other breast, making you release a sigh of satisfaction. He eventually let go and gave you another kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

You looked down. He was hard, subtly trying to grind himself between your legs. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips. 

His moan was wonderful. If not for your own pleasure, you wanted to continue this just so you could elicit another sound out of him.

In a bold move, you reached down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a sound, more strangled this time, and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

He placed his hand over the hand that was palming his cock, encouraging you to keep going, with eyes shut and nose scrunched up. He then moved it to lean on your shoulders.

“Do you like it rough or vanilla?” he asked. “I can do both.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Rough.”

He knew that by saying that you didn’t want it completely that way. The actions, yes, but you still wanted to hear him praise you, to caress you, to whisper sweet things in your ear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He picked you — handsome and strong — and laid you down on the couch. It wasn’t that large, but at least it was more comfortable than his desk, and you didn’t want to wait any longer by going to his place or yours.

“I want to let you know,” he started seriously, “that this isn’t a, uh, one-night stand. I don’t want that, not from you.”

“I don’t want that either,” you said. 

“And I don't do this often. Well, I don't do this at all. With other students, I mean. You’re the first. I don’t want you to think that I’m just, how do you say it? playing you?”

You giggled. He didn’t seem like the playboy type at all. In fact, when most men and women flirted with him, he usually got all uncomfortable and quiet, a fact that boosted your ego, as he never felt that way around you.

“This is serious for me, too. Let’s keep it a secret until this semester is over. And when I’m out of your class we can make it public, okay?”

He nodded, and leaned down to kiss you again, soft and delicate. 

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded.

He smiled at your behavior. It took a minute, because he was wearing his suit, but he managed to get it off with your help. You didn’t want to damage his clothing, it was probably on the more expensive side, and he looked so exquisite in it. 

You admired his chest. He was lean, but you could still see some faint muscles. After all, he had carried you to the couch. He was perfect. It was just what you had hoped for.

This moment didn’t feel real. How was it that you had gotten so lucky? You were here with the man of your dreams, in his arms, and you were about to make love. 

“Get on your knees.”

You did as he asked. You had done this a couple times before, so you weren’t really worried. You could even take cock all the way in, but when you saw his size, you gulped.

He guided your face to it. You licked the tip to the base to the balls, wondering how you were going to make it fit. You reasoned with yourself that if you couldn’t you could just use your hands for the rest.

That was, until he slid his cock inside your mouth and pushed it as far as he could. You controlled your gag reflex and started bobbing your head up and down, the sensation causing your eyes to tear, but not in pain. 

He wiped them away. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t say anything, not with your mouth filled. You showed your answer by sucking him, fondling his balls, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Ohhh, you take it so well. So well.”

He pushed your head all the way down, keeping it there for a few seconds. You breathed in through your nose, trying to keep yourself under control whilst still making the experience pleasurable for him. He seemed to like it, with the way he was rolling his hips against your mouth, even though there was nothing left to fit inside. 

Then, suddenly, you felt something rubbing your clit through your pants. You tried to pull off of Tom, concerned at what it might be, when you realized it was him. He was the one doing it, making you feel this way. 

He kept your head in place, a pleased smile on his face. “Like that?”

You moaned. You couldn’t concentrate on him, not when your body was being pleasured so good. How much practice had he had with his abilities? How could he focus when you were going down on him? It was probably the age. He wasn’t that much older than you, but he was older, and surely that came with more practice. 

He pulled you off of him after a few minutes of you squirming and gagging, placing you down on the couch. He made sure your head was in a comfortable position before taking off your pants and pulling out his cock. Your pussy was still being rubbed, by whatever invisible force he was using, and it was about to make you come.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he shushed, pressing his cock at your entrance. 

“Let me make you—”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside of you. Don’t think, just let your professor handle it.”

You knew he wasn’t technically your professor. He was just the TA, but it was still sexy to hear him say that. It reminded you of your student-teacher relationship, the forbiddeness of it all. 

You came just as his cock slid in. He sighed, feeling your pussy flutter and your cream leak out on him. He looked down, taking in the view, before pulling his cock out and slamming it back in, taking you off guard. 

His pace was unrelenting. You didn’t know he could be so animalistic. He was panting and groaning in your ear, holding your body in place even though you weren’t going anywhere. He was still rubbing your clit — technically — but you didn't mind. You could take another orgasm.  Besides, you weren’t sure if he would stop even if you asked. He looked so blissed out, like he was in another world, the only thing driving him his primal instinct.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he said, increasing the intensity of his pace. The couch was now shuffling a little, moving forward a little bit each time, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “You need it so bad. Just want me to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cried out, rather pathetically. It was crazy to think how submissive this man could make you. You had never been like this with any of your other partners, but with him, you felt safe, like you trust him with anything.

“I can imagine — you in class, giving me one of those eyes you always do. Fuck — the other students don’t suspect a thing, but both you and I know that I’ll have you over my desk by evening.”

The thought alone made your mind whirl.

“I should fill your panties with my cum, make you walk around in it,” he said. That shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did. He noticed your reaction. “Oh, you enjoy hearing me say those things? Those depraved, dirty things.”

He hit that spot in you, the one that made you go crazy, and you cried out, clutching his shoulders.

“There it is,” he said, mostly to himself, as he kept ramming that spot over and over again. The added sensations made you go limp in his arms. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that told you you were going to orgasm again.

You threw your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you came, but your peace of mind didn’t last long. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look back at him, beating that same spot again, all while continuing the assault on your clit. “Look at me, I want to see your face.”

You looked right into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and you could tell an orgasm was coming for him, too.

You felt a little ashamed that in such a short time he had made you come twice, and you hadn’t at all — at least, not yet — but like he said before, he didn’t want you to think, so you didn’t, and let whatever thoughts you had left bouncing around in your head leave.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of it. Your teeth clashed briefly, but neither of your cared. He just wanted to taste you. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

With that, he came inside, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. He kept his cock in, holding your hips in place, until he was satisfied and pulled out.

He laid on top of you on the couch, caressing the side of your cheek as you both recovered and took your breath. 

It was silent. Just the two of you, in his office. You had finally found the one. The one you were sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with, all happy and in love like a fairytale.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t think I’d ever find another,” you finally said.

“I didn’t either. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad it’s you I get to share this with.”

“Hey, what was with the cards? Were you just testing me?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing things. I mean, you get up so early and go to work, sometimes you just imagine a kid opening a door on its own or playing tricks with her assignments. I had to be sure.”

“So, you weren’t intending to tell my future?”

“You can’t actually do that,” he said.

“Yes you can.”

He blinked, surprised. 

“I know you said the interpretation is very broad, but it still works.”

“You can actually tell the future?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be with Tarot cards only. But whatever methods, I don’t do it often, I feel like it messes with things. But sometimes I just get these images in my head, and I can’t stop it.”

It hadnt occurred to you that even though you were both psychic, your powers, or at least, the direction you went with them, were different.

“If you weren’t reading my future, what were you doing?”

“I noticed that objects imbued with magic, especially artifacts, radiated energy—a feeling, one that only I could sense. If I gave the same impression on those cards, and you happened to pick them, it would either be a huge coincidence or it would mean you were drawn to them, albeit unknowingly. It was just something to give me more confidence.”

You weren’t aware that was something a person could do. You supposed there were plenty of things you didn’t know. You were looking forward to learning from him, and teaching him as well. You were both in uncharted waters, not knowing where this would lead you both. But it was okay, as long as you had him by your side.

You did worry a little that this intense connection you felt with him was only in an otherworldly sense, that you fell for him because of this magic, but you shook the thought away. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t let it be true. You loved him and he loved you—and that was it. Nothing more. 

“I can do another round,” he said suddenly. “You?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah. But this time, I want to ride you.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that you were on top of him. “Show me how you get off, babygirl.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

[ghostlychief]

gorgeous

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

summary: you’re drunk and you might be making fun of Ghost’s accent (lovingly ofc)

A/N: Inspired by Taylor Swift's song Gorgeous, specifically the lyrics: "You should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk."

Warnings: drunk reader; minors DNI

wc: ~800

~*~*~

You probably should have stopped yourself after your second whiskey coke, but here you are on your third. One could say good decisions are never made when you’ve had more than two drinks, but you really are put your faith in the hands of the heavens tonight.

It’s been a long week.

You could also slightly place some of the blame on your convincing co-worker, Mara, for offering to buy you two out of the three drinks you’ve consumed tonight. Who wouldn’t want a free drink, let alone two?

You and Mara are sitting at the bar, laughing and talking about both of your shitty weeks, when all of a sudden, she stops and looks at something over your shoulder. Her eyes find their way back to yours and a smirk develops on her plump lips.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here.” Your brows furrow and a small (albeit cute) pout forms on your lips. Your buzz is not helping, while you think about who could have shown up to warrant a reaction like that from Mara.

As you’re about to turn around, Mara quickly places a hand on your shoulder stopping you. “Wait, hold on.” Obviously, she can see something you can’t, and you’re itching to turn around to see who it is.

She places her hand on your forearm, “Don’t turn around just yet. Let him come to us.”

Ah, so it’s him. You have a hunch about who it is.

Your assumption is correct, when a large, warm hand is placed on your shoulder, and the owner of said hand says, “Fancy seeing you two here.”

You would know that accent anywhere, let alone, who owns that accent.

You lightly chuckle, and feel his hand lightly squeeze your shoulder, making small sparks light up and down your tummy.

You turn around in your chair so you can finally see him. He towers over you still, even though you’re on a raised bar stool and as you look up at him and meet his eyes, you grant him a smile.

His hair is slightly tousled, not doubt, slightly longer than the standard military grade hair length requirement, but you love the length of it. It suits him, you think.

In the dim light of the bar, you can still make out the scars that are scattered across his face. You’ve always had the urge to trace your fingertips along them, asking him about each one.

One might say you have liquid courage, and so your response to your very tall and handsome coworker is, “Fancy seeing you here,” in a very much so, exaggerated British accent. You may have also tried to replicate Ghost’s deep voice, which also added insult to injury.

You glance back at Mara who is holding herself back from laughing and when you glance back up at Ghost, you see that his eyebrow is quirked, yet his hand still comfortably rests on your shoulder.

“Your accent is funny.” You dig yourself deeper into the ground, but your foggy brain doesn’t really care. You love teasing your stoic coworker.

“Oh really?” You really love his deep voice. You’ll admit it.

Ghost has since moved, so now, he’s standing in between you and Mara, still seated at the bar. His hand leaves your shoulder, but now rests on the back of your chair. A gesture that makes you feeling warmer, and has you smiling deeper.

You nod your head and hum, “mm hm. But it’s okay because you’re tall, and cute.”

I am seriously going to regret this tomorrow.

You miss Ghost’s quick glance to Mara, who quietly winked at the man, encouraging him. Ghost leans down a bit, so he’s closer to your ear. The bar is quite loud, with everyone talking, and the music playing loud. So, his close proximity leaves a chill down your spine.

“Despite your poor efforts to imitate a British accent, I think you’re cute too.” His gruff voice pierces your ears, and you think you’ve caught on fire by now. No doubt, burning a bright crimson in his presence.

 You let out a soft laugh, forgoing your fake British accent. “I’m just messing around, it’s nice to see you here.”

Ghost lets out a soft laugh before asking, “Let me buy you a drink?”

You’re honestly surprised your coworker, who you’ve had a crush on for the longest time, is offering to buy you a drink. So, you of course say yes, and spend the rest of your evening talking the ear off to your coworker, him doing the same.

And when you wake up the next morning, you notice a text from Ghost, asking you on a date.

~*~*~

[alisonsfics]

first time - part one

pairing: tony dinozzo x reader

summary: being tony’s first serious girlfriend, he was really nervous to have sex. you misinterpret the signals and think he’s no longer attracted to you. eventually, you bring these fears up to him.

/ part two /

word count: 2.3k

warnings: discussing sex, but no smut til part two

You and your boyfriend, Tony, were walking towards the lobby of the NCIS building. You both were just arriving for work bright and early at 7:30am.

If you got to work after Gibbs, you were considered late. So you and all your coworkers made sure to arrive extra early.

You and Tony were walking in silence. You weren’t exactly in a fight, but things were a little tense.

Tony grasped at his pocket, hoping to feel the outline of his phone. “I left my phone in the car. I’ll go back and grab it. I’ll see you upstairs.” He said, giving your hand a quick squeeze before walking away.

You hurried into the building. You wanted to have some time to talk to Ziva and Abby before Tony showed back up. They were your best friends, and you really needed some relationship advice.

The elevator dinged as you arrived on the floor. You scanned the desks. Ziva was the only one who’d arrived at the office yet. She looked up when she heard the elevator and saw you walk in.

Ziva gave you a warm smile. You quickly set your backpack down at your desk before walking over to Ziva’s desk.

You held both your hands out in front of her. With a confused expression, she let you grab her hands. “Girls field trip. I need to talk to you and Abby about something.” You said, pulling her towards the elevator.

Her mind was spinning with possibilities of what you wanted to talk about. She knew it was probably really interesting if you wanted to talk in private.

You both walked into Abby’s lab. You weren’t greeted by the usual loud rock music. Abby was standing at her computer, half asleep.

You lightly knocked on the open door. “Abby?” You called softly, not wanting to startle her.

Abby jumped away from the computer and turned to face you both. “Late night,” she said, simply.

You walked over to her fridge and grabbed her emergency Caf-Pow. “You’re gonna need this. I need to talk to you both and get some advice.” You said, handing the styrofoam cup to her.

You had grabbed Abby’s attention. “Is this about Tony?” She prodded. You nodded your head without revealing much. Abby’s jaw dropped.

“Ziva, shut the door. I’ll get the chairs.” Abby said, wheeling some stools over in a makeshift circle. Ziva quickly shut and locked the door.

All three of you got seated. You could see the curiosity in their eyes. “Are we finally going to hear about yours and Tony’s sex life?” Abby asked, raising her eyebrows at you.

Without thinking, you corrected her. “Well, I can’t tell you about something that doesn’t exist.” You said, quickly.

That was how you stunned them both. Their eyes grew even wider, and their jaws almost hit the ground.

“You and Tony haven’t had sex yet?!?!” They both exclaimed in unison.

Before you and Tony started dating, he made his sexual escapades no secret to his coworkers. Everyone assumed it would be the same with you two.

Abby had been pestering you for details. The entire office was at least a little curious. When you didn’t give in, Abby assumed you just wanted to keep it private. She never assumed you both weren’t there yet.

You and Tony were both pretty affectionate outside of the office when you hung out with your friends. So, their assumptions made sense.

“You’re telling me that you and Tony, the man who acted like he was the sex god, haven’t had sex yet?” Ziva asked, still shocked.

“Do you just not want to yet?” Abby asked, trying to understand the situation.

You quickly shook your head. “No, it’s not that all. I really want to,” you began to say, which got both Ziva and Abby to smirk at you.

“The problem is Tony doesn’t, but instead of talking about it, he keeps dodging the subject. I feel like he’s not attracted to me anymore, or he never was. Every time I think about it, I start to spiral.” You rambled.

Ziva and Abby were always there to calm you down whenever you were overthinking or needed advice.

Abby immediately started shaking her head. “This is Tony we’re talking about. There’s no way he isn’t attracted to you. He practically drools every time you walk in the room.” Abby tried to persuade you. Ziva nodded, agreeing with Abby.

“Then, explain this. Last night, he invited me over for a movie night. We were making out on his couch, and I thought he was finally going to go for it. But as soon as things started to get heated, he said we should probably get some sleep because we had work in the morning.” You explained.

They both grimaced as you told the story. They didn’t know what it was, but they knew from your story that something was off with Tony.

“Well maybe he’s just nervous.” Ziva suggested, trying to calm your nerves. You were expecting the worst case scenario. You needed them to bring you some optimism.

“But, this is Tony. He’s never been nervous about sex with anyone else.” You argued.

Nothing added up, and you’d been wracking your brain for days.

Ziva and Abby started thinking of other possible explanations, but then there was a knock on the door.

All three of you froze. Abby pressed some keys on her keyboard and pulled up the security camera from the hallway.

She looked over her shoulder to see your reaction. On the screen, you noticed Tony patiently standing outside Abby’s door.

“Please don’t tell him that I’m here.” You said, locking yourself in Abby’s back room. You moved behind the wall, so Tony couldn’t see you through the glass.

You could still hear what was going on in the other room. Abby walked over to the door and quickly opened it. “Oh, hey, Tony. How’re you?” She asked, nonchalantly.

Tony looked between Abby and the now-unlocked door. “Why was your door locked? Oh, hey Ziva.” He said, spotting Ziva over Abby’s shoulder.

“Just having some girl talk,” Abby said, aware that Tony was suspicious. He nodded his head slowly, realizing it made enough sense.

“Have either of you seen my lovely girlfriend? I haven’t seen her anywhere. She seemed a little upset this morning. I think I may have screwed up. I just want to talk to her.” He explained to both the girls.

They both nodded, pretending this was brand new information.

You noticed the other room went silent. Neither Abby, Ziva, nor Tony made a noise. Unbeknownst to you, Abby and Ziva pointed towards the back room.

They knew you both needed to talk this out, so you could go back to being cheesy in the honeymoon stage.

Then, you heard someone tapping on the glass door to the back room.

If there was one thing you should’ve known, it was that Abby couldn’t keep a secret.

You took a deep breath, and then took a step towards the glass door. Tony’s eyes met yours. He gave you a soft smile through the glass.

You gave him a half-hearted smile and slid the door open.

“Abby? Can you we use your back room to talk for a minute?” Tony called over his shoulder. His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second. “As long as you both keep it PG,” Abby quipped, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Thank you, Abby,” you both said in unison. He took a step closer to you and closed the door behind him.

He scooted you both to where you couldn’t be seen by Abby and Ziva, who were both trying to read your lips.

“I know where this is going, Tony. If you’re going to dump me, can you please do it later at home? I will be mortified if our friends have to watch me leave this room crying.” You told him, bracing for his response.

Tony’s concern increased significantly. He had no idea what you were talking about. He grabbed both your hands. “Slow down. Why would I be breaking up with you?” He asked you.

He tried to read your expression for an answer. He thought if he looked hard enough into your eyes, he could read your mind. You tried to organize what you wanted to say. You were having a hard time arranging a coherent sentence.

“Please talk to me. That’s absolutely crazy? Do you know how much I love you?” He asked you, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You almost felt frustrated that he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“But you won’t have sex with me, Tony. And you won’t talk to me about why that is. You have plenty of experience, so there’s no reason for you to be nervous. So, the only thing I can think of is you’re not attracted to me anymore.” You explained.

He started to slowly shake his head, realizing what spurred your assumptions. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, begging for forgiveness.

“That’s not it at all. I promise. I am very attracted to you.” He said, kissing you. His lips pressed against yours firmly. It took everything in your power to pull away from the kiss.

“Then, what is it, Tony?” You asked. You were dreading the possibility of Tony dumping you, but more than that, you wanted answers. You needed clarity.

Tony took a deep breath, looking down at your hands in his. He pulled you over to two of Abby’s stools. He held one stool steady for you to sit down, and then he sat on the other one.

“I’ve been avoiding sex because I’m terrified. I mean, yeah, I’ve had a lot of flings and one night stands, but that’s completely different from sex with you. I’ve never had sex with you. You mean so much more to me than those flings ever did. With you, I want it to be special and perfect, but I’ve never had to do special before. I’m scared that I’ll ruin it.” He explained to you.

You had never seen Tony so vulnerable. His anxiety and worry was written all over his face. You immediately pulled him into your arms, tightly hugging him.

You ran your hands up and down his back, trying to comfort him. Your heart was breaking for him and how concerned he was.

You moved so you were sitting sideways in his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his head in the crook of your neck.

You slowly laced your fingers through his hair. “You aren’t going to mess anything up.” You whispered in his ear. He looked up at you with an unsure expression.

You pressed a kiss against his temple. “Tony, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Nothing is perfect. I don’t want you to be stressed about this. I appreciate how much you care, and that’s why it will be so special. It’ll be special because you love me and I love you. That is all I need. That’s all I care about, okay?” You reassured him.

His heart was practically melting. Somehow, you always knew the right thing to say. “I love you.” He whispered to you. Your lips curved up into a smile.

He leaned in and kissed your lips softly. “Thank you for understanding.” He said, giving you a kiss after each word he said. You nodded your head.

“How about you come over tonight, and I’ll set everything up, okay? You don’t need to worry about any of it. Just come over.” You suggested.

Tony was so grateful for you. You were able to calm him down when no one else could. “I love you so much.” He told you, smiling. You stood up and pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s get back to work before Gibbs kills us.” You told him, sliding the door open for him. You both stepped back into Abby’s lab and were met with expectant faces. Abby and Ziva was very curious about how your talk went.

“Please tell me your talk went good. You guys are so perfect. I don’t want you to break up.” Abby told you both, with a worried expression. She wrapped her arms around both of you, pulling you into a group hug.

“We’re not breaking up.” You and Tony said in unison.

Abby pulled away from you, looking relieved. “You’re not breaking up. I’m so happy for you both. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was worried we’d have to pick teams, and I know how much you love each other— but wait that means,” Abby interrupted her own rambling.

Smirks appeared on both Abby’s and Ziva’s faces. “You two are having sex tonight.” Ziva said, noticing the red on Tony’s cheeks.

“We are not taking any comments at this time.” Tony said, putting his hand on the small of your back. He attempted to quickly guide you towards the door, but Gibbs suddenly walked through the door.

“What are all of you doing down here?” He asked, looking around at all four of you.

You and Tony kept your mouths shut. There was no way you were explaining this to Gibbs. Abby, on the other hand, couldn’t lie to Gibbs.

“We did some relationship counseling. Now, they both have some big plans for tonight.” Abby said, winking at the two of you.

The last thing you expected was a chuckle out of Gibbs. You stood in shock as he actually laughed at the situation. You expected a scolding and him to yell “back to work.”

“This day just gets weirder and weirder.” Tony said, taking this awkward silence to usher you both out of the room.

“I’m excited for tonight.” Tony whispered to you, as you both stepped in the elevator. He knew that everything would be okay.

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[vxnuslogy]

— 7:51 p.m. ft. alhaitham

— warnings: none

— author's note: an alhaitham word vomit and this may or may not be related to something i'll be doing in the future hehe.

“excuse me, is this seat taken?” you ask with a nervous smile gracing your lips as alhaitham’s mind swam with different ways of saying yes – when in fact it wasn’t – to try and avoid having to share a table with some stranger. but in the end, when his eyes fell on the book you’re holding, the tight grip on your bag straps, and that desperate glaze your eyes held he ended up relenting. “it’s yours.” he says plainly as you scuffle to sit down. it wasn’t long before another laptop was set on his table, just across from his own.

you were undeniably flustered; your eyes not so discreetly peeking at him, how your pen nearly kept falling from your grasp, not to mention how you kept your lips in a firm line. it wasn’t that hard to come to the conclusion that you may have something for alhaitham, but he made no comment; if he did, it would be akin to opening a pandora’s box. you were quite a chatterbox after all. 

surprisingly though, you had not uttered another word to him after you sat down and let a soft thank you stumble past your lips. after a few glimpses at alhaitham – all of which he caught on to leaving you to hide behind your laptop screen – he himself would take note of the items you had laid on his table. your laptop had multiple stickers of different characters from different franchises; a big coherent mess, he concludes. the notebook that laid on the table held haphazardly written notes, messy scribbles of black and green ink – the same black pen was in your hand being spun around like a rollercoaster – painted the inside of each page, sometimes there were little doodles in the corner. eventually you had taken out a black case with your glasses in them; he had noticed you getting too close to your laptop screen so his assumption of your poor eyesight was correct. but what caught alhaitham’s eyes the most was the annotated book by franz kafka that you had been flipping through all this time.

“letters to milena.” he softly muttered. alhaitham was sure you wouldn’t catch it, but in the blink of an eye, you were staring at him with widened eyes. the moment your eyes met, you ducked your head back behind your laptop screen with a nod. your fingers nimbly flipping to another page that was annotated with a burgundy book tab. “literature assignment. our professor requires us to write an essay about a book of our choosing each semester.” alhaitham hummed in acknowledgement and with that, the conversation ended. 

the two of you stayed in the comforts of the library for another twenty or so minutes before you started to pack up. alhaitham’s eyes followed your movement as you put away your laptop first, then your notebook, and finally your book tucked neatly on your arms as you flashed him a small smile. “i’ll see you around!” you whisper-yell at him with a wave of your hand. alhaitham simply nodded, not even bothering to wave back, but his eyes did follow your figure as you made your way out of the library when you turned your back on him. letting out another sigh, he pocketed the glasses case you had left on the table as he started packing up.

“how troublesome.” he said gruffly. putting on his headphones – putting the music at max volume – and slinging his bag over his shoulder he left the library.

–

“how do you lose a pair of glasses in the span of less than twenty-four hours?” you turn to glare at your friend who was making sure you didn’t trip and fall face-first on the ground. “i swear i’m not this forgetful, okay?!” he just snickered while you groaned, a hand dragged itself down your face as he led you to the art room.  you let out a slight scream when you nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to rack your brain to try and find where you last put your glasses. letting out another frustrated groan while your friend laughed, you sulked your way to the art room.

“there you are!” kaveh, the art club president, exclaimed with what you presumed was a wave. “good morning senior.” your friend greeted the blonde man. to your and his surprise, kaveh had suddenly handed you a black case that looked oddly like the one you were looking for. when you had taken it from his grasp, you let out a small gasp of surprise as you saw your glasses.

“where’d you find them?!” you ask while putting them on, letting out a breath of relief as everything finally started to clear up. “a friend of mine found it in the library.” your brows furrowed in thought. you do remember wearing them in the library yesterday when you were writing your essay. so that means–

both men looked at you in confusion as you started slightly jumping around the room with giggles bubbling from your throat and bursting into tiny little laughters. plopping yourself on the ground, hiding behind the case, you then lay on the cold floor – much to kaveh’s dismay. both of them urged you to not lay on the floor, but you just kicked your feet and giggled, opening the case again and holding it close to your chest.

kaveh just sighed as he urged your friend to start working on a project. “we’ll be back later. try not to go crazy now.” the blonde man said, amusement lacing his voice as he closed the door on you.

a little voice in your head said that it was a logical reason to giggle over.

‘don’t leave your things behind.

– A.’

seems like you’ll be writing another love letter to this particular senior that has won over your heart.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[sundew199]

Afternoons

a/n: I got carried away with this, hehe

tags: reiner braun x reader, oral m!receiving, throat fucking, dacryphilia if you squint, no p/n's used, kinda implied f!reader

All you'd been thinking about all day was him. Everything that had to do with him was on your mind. He didn't have the day off like you did, such a disappointment, so many degenerate ideas running through mind as you went about idle tasks around the house.

Maybe you were just unbearably horny that made you groan and take little breaks when your mind wandered too far, but then again you were with a man who looked nothing less than a greek god at times. What a delightful curse that was.

Finally you could hear the car pulling up into the drive, setting down the rag you were using to wipe down the counters, giving the impression you weren't doing anything. Reiner let out a long over exaggerated sigh from the front door, tossing some of his things down right there and taking his time coming to find you. The dreariness in his eyes lifted once he spotted you by the counter, shoulders slouching in a slump way as he continued to shuffle over to you.

"How was work?" Asking before he could even wrap his arms around you, teasingly pulling him in closer by his already loose tie.

"Tiring, long, irritating, the usual." Breaking into a smile and leaning in for a kiss, not letting it linger like how you wanted and even tried, so desperate for him.

"Figured you didn't do much today?" Now really pulling away, tie slipping through your fingers and a small frustration beginning inside you. It wasn't towards him, more at your impatience and the clawing need to have some part of him inside you. This is what you get allowing yourself to daydream while he was away at work.

"Not much besides cleaning a bit, just waiting for you to get home."

He scoffed a laugh, back turned to you as he shoved the bite he took of a muffin into his mouth. You could tell he was beginning to understand the underlying message in your words, a handy little thing about him when you didn't want to explicitly ask for something.

"Bet you were." Heels of his dress shoes clicking against the tile floor of the kitchen as he turned and took two long steps towards you, guise written in suppressed lust that he must've shoved down during the day as well. Boldly, you grabbed him by the tie again, pressing yourself to his chest and absorbing the heat coming off in waves from his body, assumption proving to be correct. Nimble fingers of yours danced up his dress shirt, fanning out on the side of his neck to thread into the back of his hair, inches away from his face.

"Mhm, all day long." Exchanging the air between you and him as you spoke, a chuckle of sorts climbing up his throat as he shuffled one foot forward, bringing your bodies closer somehow. Reiner looked like he was about to say something else until the press of your lips to his jaw silenced it, breath quietly hitching in his throat and relaxation mixed with desire running hot in his veins.

Small open mouth kisses ran along his scruff, palms brushing down his body, catching over the hard nipples poking through the cotton fabric, knees bending a bit when you reached the base of his neck, coming off and continuing to crouch down onto the floor. Reiner adjusted his footing until the backs of his legs were to the kitchen cabinets, hips pushed out into the air, presenting the growing tent in his slacks.

Fully down on your knees now, face to face with what had been on your mind all day, you pressed your cheek to his thigh and cupped his half hard erection, relishing in the surprised groan. Each breath was being sucked through his teeth with a hiss as your palm pressed and rubbed, blood rushing impossibly fast to his cock to your simple touch. You wanted to tease him a bit, having fun with the quieted reactions you were getting, so you breathily moaned before mouthing over his bulge, purposely moving your head side to side so the tip of your nose would brush across the head of his cock. Reiner's head had fallen back a little, one hand running through his hair, mussing it even further while he white knuckled the edge of the counter with his other hand.

"M'shit," Muttering out when your tongue flattened and swiped up along his shielded shaft, like you would if it weren't trapped in the confines of his slacks.

Unsure of who was more desperate for this, you popped the button to his slacks and pulled the zipper, spotting the faint wet spot in his briefs, flicking your tongue over that spot and not missing the thump of the back of his shoe hitting the cabinet.

"Been thinking about sucking your cock all day." Speaking with a whine, fingers only slipped behind the waistband of his briefs, eyeing the last button of his shirt blocking any part of his skin. On impulse, you quickly undid the first four buttons upwards and parting the open shirt enough to see the happy trial that started from his naval down, like a treasure map you got to retrace anytime you found yourself down on your knees.

"All day?" Confidence prominent in his tone, boarding on arrogant as he looked down at you on your knees. "Been thinking about your mouth all day too angel."

Reaching a hand down to hold the side of your face, pressing the pad of his thumb to your lips and watching them purse under the light pressure. You took it into your mouth before he could pull it away, giving it one long harsh suck, coming off with a pop and breaking the string of saliva connecting to your lips. Reiner groaned deeply in his chest, pushing his hips out a little more to entice you to free his cock, wrap your pretty little lips around it as he thrusted down your throat. Fuck he could never get enough of you.

Without warning, you yanked his briefs down and his leaking angry cock sprung free, close to hitting your cheek by an inch. The cool air hitting his fiery flesh prompted a hiss and a stifle of some noise, a noise that increased the pulsing desire between your legs, throbbing at this point.

"Put your pretty mouth to use for me."

Whispering sensually, sweetly with the way his lust heavy eyes looked down at you, golden honey irises momentarily dulled by the yearning for your mouth.

Humming salaciously at his request, you flicked the end of your tongue at the gathering pre leaking from his slit, rolling your eyes back at the salty taste, hearing his feet shuffle in place. Without wasting anymore time, your lips enclosed around the head, pressing your hands into his thighs as your tongue swirled slow steady circles around it. Reiner grunted, white knuckling the edge of the counter with both hands now, looking to the ceiling briefly before back down to your already hollowed cheeks around the tip of his fat cock. Both of you were aware of his size, gifted with girth that pleasantly stretched out any part that you took him in, and god did you love the stretch.

Slow soft hums accompanied you as you moved downwards from the tip of his cock, saliva already pooling at the corners of your mouth and aiding the needed lubrication to blow him properly. His breathing sounded hoarse in his throat, raspy and needy with each intake, with each slow ascend and descend of your mouth.

"Fuck, oh fuck." Finding his words, one hand breaking from their death grip on the edge of the counter to hold the back of your head, holding back from shoving you down further.

You blinked to flutter our lashes over your cheeks, sucking him down all the way suddenly and holding him in your throat. The abruptness of your action had your eyes watering and stinging, nose pressed directly onto the lowest part of his abdomen, hair from his happy trail tickling your skin. Reiner sounded like he was trying to keep his composure, prevent himself from coming too soon.

"Relax for me," His hand now moving to hold the side of your head, right above your ear and pushing himself from the counter with his hips, sending his cock deeper down your throat, setting his feet apart farther.

Doing as you were told, your jaw slackened and lips relaxing around his shaft, blinking rapidly up at him, seeing the cockiness of the blatant power dynamics between you run through him like fire. One thing about Reiner was he was going to fuck your throat, fuck it good like he were fucking your tight hole, using you as he saw fit. Of course it took him a while to truly be comfortable with this, worried he might hurt you, but you knew he wouldn't, not even on purpose and after the first time, he was addicted to the rush.

Sliding himself out until the tip of his dick rested in your mouth, he exhaled slowly, rubbing his thumb into your skin in a soothing manner, like a pre-comfort for the delightful abuse he was about to put your throat through. One side of his mouth lift in a smirk, starting to push back into your mouth with ease and then shoving the rest down, groaning at the tightness surrounding him, eyes fluttering at the sensation of the single motion. Breathing through your nose, maintaining eye contact with him and focusing to keep your jaw relaxed and open, you took the measured thrusts like you were made for it.

It didn't take too long for his hips to pick up the pace, keeping a steady hand at the side of your head, eagerly picking up the pace with his growing greediness, puffing out breath after breath in time with his hips. His heavy balls soon started to smack against your chin, the mixture of saliva and pre-cum dripping down to your chin enhancing the sound. Reiner groaned and grunted every time he hit the back of your throat, sharply inhaling from his nose and watching the tears well in your water line, just waiting for them to roll down your cheeks.

"Thinkin' about this all day yea? Mm how badly you wanted me to fuck your throat?" Asking as if you could give him a proper response, only able to barely nod to the questions, an honest answer as it was all you'd been thinking about. A laugh rumbled in his chest teetering out into a moan as he abruptly stopped his thrusts to hold himself all the way in your throat. Reiner's other hand gathered some of the saliva and pre mixture smeared onto your chin with his finger, cleaning it off himself and moaning again, like the dirty bastard he was. You moaned around his cock witnessing the sight, the ache between your legs a burning throb at the pure sex emanating from his body, like it were natural.

"Been thinkin' about it too, almost called to see if you wanted to stop by my office." Ending his sentence with a wink, an all too obvious sign of what he was implying, allowing your eyes to roll back into your head at the thought.

"But at least now," Beginning his pace again, thumbing over the small tear that escaped from your waterline down your cheek. "I can fuck you after, fuck you until the only thing you remember is my name baby."

Shit you were insanely turned on by that proposition, moaning with an ache to have him fuck you dumb and stupid after this, claw your nails down his back only for him to flip you over and force your back to arch to his liking and affectionately punish you with his cock pounding and stretching you open.

Fingertips pressed into the side of your head as he went faster than before, starting to chase the sweet release of his orgasm, have you swallow it all. The deep manly sounding groans and grunts were slowly turning into whines and whimpers, his back forming a slight arch as he writhed where he stood, pleasure overtaking at an alarming pace.

"Shit you feel so good...so fuckin' good baby, fuck." Whiny words rolling off of his tongue as he got closer and closer, feeling the pulse of his cock slide along your throat as he fucked himself into your mouth over and over. Reiner threw his head back violently, pushing his hips out, pressing his dick all the way down your throat and your nose to his skin.

Ropes of warm cum shot down your throat, no other choice but to swallow as his strength kept you where you were at. His grip to the side of your head eased, pulling out quickly and stroking just under the tip as he pumped his cum onto your awaiting tongue. A sort of groan like laugh came as it pooled and gathered on the muscle, seeing your swollen lips tremble as you tried to keep your mouth open until he was done.

As soon as he was done, you looked at him through hooded eyes, taking your tongue back into your mouth but keeping your lips parted just enough so he could watch you swallow. Gently, his thumb gathered the remnants on your top and bottom lips, slipping it into your mouth wordlessly.

The surrounding air was thick with sex, clinging to your bodies like heavy dew from a summer's rain. Reiner sighed with a weak smile, offering his hand to help you off of the floor, not bothering to adjust any of his clothing. Catching you off guard with a kiss, his tongue licked into your mouth, allowing himself a taste of his own cum, which brought your lust from a simmer to a boil in your gut, gripping onto the back of his sweaty hair.

"Gonna fuck the shit out of you." Mumbling into your lips, hearing the rustling of fabric and feeling two hands at the back of your thighs, hoisting you into the air to wrap around his waist.

"Sounds like a promise." Folding your arms around his neck as he carried you from the kitchen to the bedroom, matching his sultry smirk with one of your own.

"It is a promise." Sending one searing slap into your ass cheek, gripping the flesh and chuckling back into your lips with a sharp inhale.

[twoduelsabers]

mistakes of an apprentice

the ask -> hey there! could i request a fic...you're badly hurt and qimir in disguise finds you. as injured as you are you just beg him not to tell your master, fearful of what he will do to such a weak pupil. qimir corrects your assumptions.

content warnings -> description of injuries, canon typical violence

it was almost impossible to stay out of sight on nar shaddaa. especially while leaving a trail of blood after every step. the only thing she could use to hide were the narrow alleys across the city, and even they weren't nearly as empty as they should be.

staying focused was difficult, when the reminder of her failure made walking difficult. there wouldn't be an issue if the guards were equipped with blasters only. instead, they carried fucking swords, and the one she was ordered to kill wielded a lightsaber, probably bought on the black market. of course, they weren't a match for her, but she heavily underestimated the seriousness of the situation. and now she paid the price- a cut in the side of her stomach, too deep for her liking.

she cursed under her breath. she was a sith. or, at least she tried to be one. with her potential, even a dozen of armed men shouldn't be an obstacle.

a cough escaped her throat, and she shivered. she could barely walk, and if her master found out just how weak she was... he trained her to defend herself. to attack. to kill. he can't see that she won, but barely.

yet, he probably will. one way or another. qimir might pass on what he was about to see- her vulnerable, wounded state. still, she prayed that he wouldn't.

it took her a few more turns and a worrying amount of effort to get to the ship. it stood in a very old, suspiciously looking dock, but she didn't bother with finding a more dignified place. it was supposed to be an "in-and-out" job.

first thing she was greeted with was qimir rushing to her side.

"finally!" he voiced in an accusing tone. "did you have fun? you know, i waited here for hours...and worried." he sent her a cheeky smile.

as much as his banter might have been funny at times, this was definitely not one of them. and he seemed to realise that rather quickly.

"are you...okay?"

she shut her eyes tightly and exhaled. her side burned like fire, and she was exhausted.

"it's just a- scratch." her voice was strained, and in opposition to her own words, her knees almost gave out.

qimir was quick to catch her. his brows furrowed, as he tried to hold her up. his usual, clumsy demeanor was replaced by seriousness.

"you're hurt." he stated, seating her down on the ground, and leaning her back on the wall. "where?"

he tried to uncover her cloak, but she grabbed his wrist instantly, stopping him in place.

"qimir." his name fell out of her lips, sounding like a plea. "don't tell my master. you hear me?"

he tilted his head in confusion.

"please. please! he will think i'm weak. it doesn't matter i killed that man. that i killed- i killed them all." her voice wavered. "all he will see is that i got injured- badly injured. he trained me so i would be able to handle myself, but turns out i- i can't."

the dock they were in was empty, and she thanked the maker for that. she thanked the maker for the shadows that hopefully covered her teary eyes.

if her master decided she is, in fact, too weak, he'd disown her, in the best case scenario. she'd never see qimir again.

or he'd kill her.

both of these options weighted heavy on her shoulders. she couldn't even bring herself to look at qimir.

he called out her name quietly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"we need to take care of this. now." he urged, yanking his wrist away from her grasp.

"qimir, please." she uttered, desperate, exhausted and in pain. "he'll throw me away."

qimir froze, clenching his jaw. did she really think he'd get rid of her, just like that? today was the first solo mission he assigned her with, and force, she completed it! he knew he wasn't the one to show affection whilst underneath the mask- but he tried to make up for it when he was just qimir. when he was her guide and supplier. he wanted to make up for that.

but of course, she had no clue.

and now, she was in front of him, wounded and barely conscious.

he needed to make her understand.

"take that cloak off. i'm not asking." qimir said firmly, as he usually would during training.

her eyes widened at the sudden change of attitude. his voice sounded different from how it usually was. there was something behind it- something she couldn't quite place.

yet she obliged, shrugging the fabric off of her shoulders, wincing. she revealed the injury, shifting a little to the side. her robes were already damp and colored with dark crimson.

qimir didn't say a word, and his expression was unreadable, yet laced with worry. he seemed to be contemplating something.

"stay still." he commanded quietly.

he moved one of his hands to rest atop of her wound.

"what are you doing-?" she hissed. the pain certainly didn't get any better from the pressure.

once again, he remained silent. he focused, steadying his breath, and letting his energy flow through his extended arm.

she felt the burn dissolving, and she wondered if qimir finally used his potion-making skills...

"what are you do-" she started, but he cut her off.

"there."

what has he done? she peered down carefully, expecting to see the injury but-

there was nothing there. her skin was untouched.

in one terrifying second, she had realised that qimir had healed her. force-healed her.

it could mean only one thing, and the thought alone made her stomach twist in fear.

"master." was all she could utter.

qimir gaze was different now. his force signature shifted to a dark and heavy, familiar one.

"you did well today, acolyte."

he said calmly, as if nothing happened.

"master- i-i'm so sorry-" uncertainty gnawed at her. what could all of this mean for her? for them?

"you should rest." qimir's voice was gentle, so different from what he sounded like from under the mask.

as he stood up, he extended his hand towards her.

she stared at it dumbly for a moment, then hesitantly let him pull her up, to his side.

to his side, where she belonged.

now, she was certain of it.

[coffeegnomee]

have you seen the conversation between kab & zam from yesterday yet :? i'd be so curious to hear your take on the whole thing. i like that kab is someone who will have a conversation like that in the first place, and i'm really interested in the potential of her interacting with zam in ways that might force her to confront the assumptions she's made about lifesteal (both in a roleplay-style way and an understanding the people on the server way, but admittedly i mostly want meta-conflict...) so i was kinda delighted by it. and her revealing so much about said assumptions, her own thought processes, her blind spots, in an attempt to reveal very little actual information. bacon's "training" as a little microcosm of how she reacts to problems she can't predict or control. all in all she frustrates me but in a fun way here, i like being frustrated.

I got so invested and stayed up so late taking notes. I'm writing this before watching the rest of Zam's stream and Kab's stream from yesterday, basically just looking at the conversation itself. Because oh boy that was fascinating. What a creature. 

Overall, what I’ve gathered from Kab, is a massive tendency to radically prioritize her own personal experiences with a person (one on one, face to face) over observing them through other people’s eyes and seeing how they act to other people (like through watching streams s4 and 5 or just through yt videos) and especially over what other people’s opinions are of other people. 

So it was super fascinating for her to get so excited about Zam being a wealth of information, because she observed with her own eyes that he understands people. So she now can categorize Zam in this way.  

But idk how much of what Zam said about like Mapicc and Spoke will matter in her future interactions with them, given how she accepted it, but then minutes later would not take correction when she had her own opinions on Bacon that differed from Zam’s observations. 

So like, she only, practically, gained insight on Zam. That is the only flask she is filling rn. 

I saw a bunch of people wonder what Kab exactly learned from that conversation and idk how much any of yall have been keeping up with her streams, but Kab learned A LOT from that conversation. (I might pull everything she learned in a different post. It’s not super relevant here)

Like you don't understand how little she knows about Lifestealers. I know, it’s shocking given we all saw her in chat all of s4 and most of s5.

She went on Bacon’s stream (and her’s ig) a bit ago the day they turned the field purple and said she only followed Eclipse, it was the only arc she actually followed as it came out, and then she kind of stopped paying attention. Which is why she would not realize how wild it was to say “princezam! You could create world peace on lifesteal!” as if she didn’t understand the Joker arc was PrinceZam objecting to pb&j trying to bring world peace to lifesteal. No Clowpierce needed.

And like if she ONLY saw Zam in the Eclipse arc, lowkey she could conclude that he is spineless. She just never saw the shift we’ve been watching since Eclipse.

Now I have another theory, but I might be totally wrong in this, but in a potentially 2% chance universe Kab is playing around with the concept of player knowledge vs character knowledge. Like everything she knew from before Lifesteal is off limits and she can only use knowledge she gains since being in the discord and on the server itself. 

And in this case she would be embracing the purity of rp content to the max. 

In which case she would need Zam to spell out how the Joker arc influenced his pacifism arc or she can’t use that info. 

It is a completely overly charitable concept I think, but nonetheless interesting. I could go into a full on Kenadian joking that Omziscool has dementia arc. But instead of dementia she is secretly incredible at acting. Or I could conclude that it is what it looks like, and Kab simply doesn’t remember anything she learned before Lifesteal/never bothered to pay attention bc she was never going to get on this server anyway.

And anyway, she clearly is using previous knowledge about Clown, Ash, and Squiddo, and she uses OOC knowledge all the time, getting in discord vcs and asking questions about server plans and using that knowledge for herself (mane in her video, red and woogie being teamed in this convo, etc). So I don’t think it can be concluded to be character knowledge vs player. But I find the thought interesting. 

But that brings me back to my point about prioritizing the knowledge she gains through person to person interactions: she only can analyze Clown, Ash and Squiddo so well because she knows them in person so well. 

And she doesn’t have that with literally anyone else on the server. Not even Zam or Red. I can’t remember if she talked to anyone else for any meaningful period of time other than them before joining. But clearly, CAS are only the three she knows well enough to have a good take on their personalities. 

And it is a good take, she does analyze CAS in ways I would approve of. She does genuinely have a good understanding of their motivations and personalities. So she is capable of having good takes.

But as we saw in the convo, it doesn’t yet extend past them. 

So what this means is (rn imo) I think more conversations with Zam will prove extremely interesting, but unfortunately only realistically in terms of her understanding of him and not in her learning and growing in understanding of how lifesteal works and how other members work.

Like I would love to see a Spoke and Kab conversation. I have soo many theories on how Spoke would react. But she would not learn (and therefore agree with Zam's take) that he is the master manipulator until the arc was well past and done. He does nawt spill his secrets at all. Zam spills that. So (imo rn) even if she did have a convo with Spoke, that would give her one-on-one info but she would conclude that he is a bumbling moron who has no motivations and doesn't think past the present moment. Because that’s who he pretends to be. And she takes people for their literal words until they say otherwise.

BUT! Interestingly enough she does learn well. Something I noticed through her pov of the Bacon jumpings is that she was super caught up in how unfair it was and getting pissed off at Bacon because he didn't explain why he was jumping her randomly. Because she needs someone to say word for word why they are doing something in order for her to understand.

And I think we saw this in this convo, the more Zam told her word-for-word his mentality, the more she noted it and she asked follow up questions and clarifying questions and I think noted them down rightly (maybe not tho I haven’t watched yesterday’s stream) 

And earlier, if you watched her/bacon streams that day, that was the first time Bacon said word for word the difference between practicing on pvp legacy and why it differs from fights on lifesteal and why that matters. And so therefore why him jumping her is helpful, not pointless, as she kept saying over and over. And she acquiesced to his analysis. And could only reiterate that she asks he doesn't do it when she’s lagging. 

She didn’t sound like that to Zam in the convo, but that’s bc she was trying to hide that for manipulation purposes. Even if... Whatever. It doesn't matter that it was silly and didn’t do anything meaningful, that was her using manipulation and secrecy. 

Anyway, her main sticking point the first day Bacon jumped her was (9/21 ~1:00:00)  “This feels like the most inefficient way of training though. Cause he didn't tell me what to do he just started attacking me” She wants to be told what to do first so she can internalize it. She doesn't logic out a reason based on input, she needs to be told. 

This is why I think she will ultimately be okay, she just needs a shit load of conversations like this one with Zam. Though we will need to wait and see what she actually learns (like after the season is over), but in the meantime interesting conversations for sure. 

What she will hopefully learn is that Zam freely gives out general server information all the damn time, and is always willing to talk about people’s past seasons mentalities. He loves yapping analysis.

So if she ever tries to go into a conversation withOUT obvious sus and pointed questions like she keeps doing with Zam, maybe she'll lean that she doesn't need them for him. It’s like she’s trying so hard to sound so casual about asking questions but that is just NOT necessary with Zam. He will just tell you shit, that's who he is. 

But, she did pick up on that if she asks too much about Zam’s inner mentality about current arcs he clams right up. (even though, again, if she watched his streams in the past she should understand him.) But that doesn't stop her from pushing to learn

But he is sooo uncomfortable about talking about why he does stuff in the moment. Like Planet had to work so hard s4 to get Zam’s trust and he almost got to know Zam’s wormhole day motivations about making everyone hate him, and in hating him the server members would bond together which was a good thing. But Spoke interrupted and Planet never got to know. It is a workout to get Zam to actually leak his mentality, and his mentality is the only thing he really truly cares about. Everything else is just whatever. 

But she incorrectly thinks that flattery and apology will be the way to get him to open up.

But either way it is great bc Zam, and Bacon too tbh, freely give out advice about other server members and how lifesteal works. Because they understand that it is in everyone’s best interests if they learn how this server does work and how the players think because that can only help smooth things over and get good interactions. She just doesn’t realize how /genuine they are being in that moment and takes it more as them leaking super secret information. When they’re just like, 'please learn, i beg.'

In terms of confronting role-play style and how the server lives and exists. Kab made HUGE progress.

If you didn't watch until the end of her stream, Kab had initially planned to murder Zam at the end of that convo but changed her mind bc of what happened. 

Like she said in the flower field that she wanted to “do lore” with Zam to do before session and make him not trust her anymore. And in the end she reveals that "lore" was just murdering him.

She tends, like she did with the consequences arc, to plan shit out and then execute that plan. Bc she’s a scripted lore server girl. 

But in this conversation she, in real time, adjusted her plan based on the unscripted conversation that flowed from it. Which is huge news for lifesteal enjoyers. If she can learn to embrace this we will be eating well. And that can only come through practice.

From a PrinceZam analysis, we got to see him go to work and try to get information from Kab. She leaked a lot, but he really does need the practice on extracting info, he's been talking about it a lot, and she’s a great subject to practice on. 

So I am very excited for him to get that practice in future conversations. 

And Zam does try several different approaches, feigned indifference, just asking, comforting lie that he wont tell anyone the secret is safe with him, pretending to only be interested in one thing instead of everything, asking direct questions that she must confirm or deny which should give him info either way, asking for the favor out of friendship, asking for the favor out of the continued exchange of information, asking for the favor out of her not having given as much as he had given, playing for the ego that if it’s so bad you can’t tell me it must be really bad so you want to tell me, asking over and over.

She for her part only knows flattery, apology, and the placation of emotions to make you think you don’t want to know the information anyway or because you react too strongly and it wouldn't be healthy for you to know. 

The most interesting analysis is how at the very very end of her stream she said “I’ve giving him a warning that I’m going to fuck with some stuff so he shouldn’t.. He shouldn’t label that as me betraying him” 

Whichhhhhhh is hilarious because we all know ends only in one way. But that is shocking bc this was his fundamental reason for betraying Eclipse was bc they thought this way?? Like Vi and Subz thought if they were subtle and slow and give him warning about the wormhole, that he wouldn’t take that as a betrayal. But he did. So he betrayed outright. To like, oversimplify it. But basically, warning Zam does absolutely nothing to protect yourself from him ending the relationship when you do something new that is not aligned with his morals/thoughts/desires. 

So so so interesting how she has that viewpoint if she did watch Eclipse.

Oh! Final thought that might go more into the meta-conflict side of things. I think we don’t get that much meta-conflict in a similar way to how it was with Vi or Minute and Jumper and Pentar last season. Idk hot to describe it exactly.

It might not be quite what meta-conflict means, but like how Kab stops all lore to cause conflict based on what conflict was presented to her.

Kab has a massive tendency to use embarrassment and shame as an attack when she feels unsafe or embarrassed. Like she will instantaneously go for causing you embarrassment and making you feel bad for your choices whenever she feels threatened in order to make you back off. 

Like when she said: “and zam, this is the person you’re friends with?”

But she goes for the throat like this a ton, like with Bacon this stream going towards a consent argument to make him feel incredibly awkward and that he will back off from jumping her instead of risking saying 'no does not mean no'.  

There were other times in earlier streams that idk if I can remember them, but it’s happened a lot with Woogie and Bacon whenever they imply that they have doubts that her plan will work, she takes it almost as them saying they think she’s stupid. And she reacts very aggressively and makes it about meta stuff instead of on the server stuff.

What I do find fascinating is how Bacon, in three streams or so, has already learned how to give her critiques on her plans so that she doesn’t get offended and that she instead learns his thought process and is the one to back down. He is learning quickly.

Also I just realized JUST how much analyzing lifestealers feels like completing those logic puzzels where you have to figure out who has what item and what location or whatever and you get like five clues. No wonder I love this shit so much.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

THE GERUDO POST

(aka an attempt at a critique of how gerudos were handled in BotW and before)

Oh no. TOTK being right around the corner, it might finally be time for the Gerudo Post.

(aka half of the reason why I made a Zelda sideblog in the first place)

So I want to preface all of this by saying that, as you could probably tell already, I’ve always adored the gerudos. They have fascinated my small child brain when I was 7; then the obsession made its comeback when I was 14, and now, here we are, almost 28, and I’m still thinking about the gerudos. I think they might be among my favorite fictional cultures for their potential and their understated storyline. I guess growing up in a very Arabic neighborhood, coupled with being bi-culturally latinx (?? does Brazil count?? you tell me), also always made them feel like home to me –especially when I was very young and there was not a lot of cool female representation flying around that managed to involve fiercely independent PoC women, flaws and teeth included.

This whole weird-essay-thing tries to do two things. First: analyze the place gerudos have occupied in the series, their initial problematisms and their subtextual narrative arc during the Myth Era coupled with their relationship to Ganondorf. Second: tiptoe to Breath of the Wild and poke it with a stick to see what happens –and in doing that, explain why I believe a lot of their characterization was defanged in service of smoothing their past with the hylians instead of deepening the culture on its own terms, and why I’m a little apprehensive about what that might mean for TotK even though I adore seeing the best girls at it again.

Those are the uhh terms of service??

And now, we must go back to 1998.

OCARINA OF TIME ERA

There’s so many things about the gerudos that are noteworthy and rich, and they’ve made for a complex piece of Zelda lore ever since their introduction –and when I say complex, I don’t 100% mean it as praise. The very racially charged decisions made about their inclusion have been discussed at length by the fandom, especially when it comes to orientalist and Islamophobic tropes being deployed pretty thoughtlessly in Ocarina of Time (their sigil being literally a crescent moon and star originally, the parallels are pretty obviously there).

We’re talking about a band of amazon-like, big-nosed brown women from the desert ruled by a single Scary Evil Man born once every hundred years hellbent on conquering Hyrule who they apparently worship like a god, characterized primarily as thieves, decked in jewelry and orientalist-inspired harem/belly-dancing clothing, hostile to the white good guys of Hyrule (especially men), unblessed by the Goddesses and so deprived of elongated ears (this is true for OoT –we’ll come back to that), also known as a demon tribe with their deity straight-out described as evil-looking by Navi (on my way to cancel you on twitter Navi you watch out), and secretly led by evil twin witches who can turn into a single seductress and, as two mothers, raised their Scary Evil Guy king who happens to basically be the devil.

In so few words, gerudos are the future that liberals want.

It’s worth notice, also, that Ganondorf’s characterization in this game is… kind of relentlessly uncomfortable to play through, especially before the 7 year skip. The utter assumption of depraved and evil intents from every character surrounded by dialogue that does little to hide its biases in spite of having generally very little proof to back them up –even though, in the game’s context, every character is correct to call his eyes evil and the darkness of his skin a moral judgment in on itself. The scene where Zelda demands that we believe her conclusion that the sole and only brown guy in the entire kingdom is evil and will do harm, and the game straight out refuses to progress until we concede that her dreams are prophetic and that this man must be stopped at any cost even though she has no more proof than her discomfort… hits different on replay.

I’m restating all of this not to pretend I’m making a novel and thought-provoking point, but to bounce back on a tumblr post I saw a while back (that I can’t find anymore!! I’ll link it if I find it again) –and so express what it is that gripped me with the gerudos in spite of their pretty damning depiction… and actually maybe thanks to it.

There’s a surprising amount of texture to Ocarina of Time’s worldbuilding that exists folded within the things introduced and left hanging, or in its subtext –and whether on purpose or not, I believe it is why people keep coming back to this iteration of Hyrule.

What was that about the king of Hyrule unifying a war-torn country? Why did the gerudos break the bridge connecting them to the rest of the kingdom during the 7 year timeskip while still worshiping Ganondorf, and why are the carpenters trying to rebuild it against their apparent wishes? What was that about gerudos imprisoning hylian men trying to force entry into their lands? What was that about the secret death torture chambers right next to the Royal Family’s tomb and connected to the race of people who were, apparently, born to serve them?

Nothing? Oh okay… okay… okay….

The same can be said about this strange depiction of this hostile tribe, consistently described as wicked yet suddenly friendly once you prove you deserve their respect once you... defeat them, so you now have joined them? Ocarina of Time isn’t very consistent when it comes to characterizing them as their occupation (thieves) or as a proper culture, with a king and a strange system of rulership that seem to involve at least 5 people: Ganondorf, the Twinrova, Nabooru and the unnamed random woman who decides you’re now part of the gerudos because you slashed enough of them with your sword and hookshot, which, uhh ok.

They’re but a ragtag and negligible group when discussed next to gorons and zoras and hylians, but they also clearly have their own religion and at least a 400-hundred years old history (probably far longer than this) and hints of a written language of their own. I’m not sure the game itself knows what it wants them to be, beyond: intimidating and hot and cool, but also wicked and, because of Ganondorf and the way you barge in their forbidden fortress (heh) with the explicit intent to dismantle their king, in apparent need to be saved from themselves.

Speaking of rulership and the Spirit Temple, let’s have a quick tangent about Nabooru: I always found her characterization when meeting with Child Link pretty strange. I refuse to mention the promised reward, which feeds into everything orientalist mentioned above, but I always found her moral compass so extremely convoluted for someone coming from gerudo culture. Nabooru says that, despite being a cool thief herself, she resents Ganondorf for killing people as well as stealing from women and children. Stealing... from women. Nabooru. Why are you this pressed that he steals from women!!! This feels so out of place, that the only girl of that hostile culture that betrays her king and befriends you, is the one that upholds moral values that only a hylian could possibly hold.

Either way: the strange unquestioned contempt of the game for them as a culture, mixed with the occasional bouts of heart, friendliness and badassery, makes it hard not to consider their depiction as pretty biased in favor of the hylians finding them at once exotic, scary and exciting, and could hide a more complex reality you might only get one side of –especially when you know there were originally plans for Ganondorf’s character to be more gray and motivated than what the campy final version ended up being. To be blunt: even in the context of a game for children, and maybe because of that fact, it all reads like a reductionist and imperialist/colonialist reading of a more complex situation.

This might seem like A Lot coming from a game where the actual game writing can be this overall flimsy and simplistic due to the standards of the time (it’s rough, it's so rough). But I would have never dwelt on that thought about a little children’s game if not for the mainline entries that came soon after, because... ooo boy.

The sense you’re not getting the whole story was certainly not helped by the introduction of Wind Waker Ganondorf, and the chilling emptiness of Gerudo Desert in Twilight Princess.

AFTER THE TIMELINE SPLIT

(I’m skipping Majora’s Mask, not because I dislike them in the game or think they’re not worth talking about, but because it’s a parallel universe and they’re never even called gerudos and their reality seems extremely different from their sisters in Hyrule so I think it’s okay to call them tangential and not dive too deep in this particular depiction)

Here’s something I want to highlight about gerudos and how they were characterized before BotW came along: their absence. Not only their physical absence, the lack of any gerudo character that calls themselves gerudo, but their absence from the text itself.

It’s not that Wind Waker and Twilight Princess retroactively scratch them off existence: we can clearly see Nabooru’s stained glass art in WW as well as recognize them being mentioned in Ganondorf’s final boss soliloquy, and WELL there’s quite a lot to say about their imprint over the world of TP. They are there –or at least they... were there. But nobody ever talks about what happened.

In Wind Waker, there was the deluge. It’s assumed lots of people died then, and those who survived scattered across the Great Sea. Are they sealed under the waves? Have they drowned? Is Jolene, Linebeck’s ex-girlfriend in Phantom Hourglass, a distant relative of one of the rare survivors? It’s unclear, beyond the fact that Ganondorf is the only living gerudo we see in this entire branch of the Timeline split.

In Twilight Princess, the desert which bares their name is empty. The hylians never mention that it used to be the name of a tribe: they’re not even named when Ganondorf is introduced for the first time, reduced once again to a mere band of thieves. We learn his plans to steal the Triforce in OoT were foiled, and that he may have turned to war. Then he lost the war, and was executed in Arbiter’s Ground: a strange structure in the desert, a mixture between a temple, a prison and a coliseum. What looks like gerudo writing coexists with hylian symbols, which often look much fresher. This dungeon is the Shadow Temple of TP: a prison hosting the worst criminals the kingdom has ever known, now haunted and cursed. Besides the locations, the only character that vaguely look gerudo in the entire game besides Ganondorf is Telma, a character with pointed ears that never seems to identify as anything but a hylian. What happened? Who’s to say. Nobody ever says anything. Not even Ganondorf bothers to mention them the way he did in WW –and though the game’s story is quite focused on another exiled tribe seeking revenge and dominion over Hyrule as retribution, the parallel is never explicitly drawn. So who’s to say what happened there. Who’s to say.

And in A Link to the Past and the games forward? The only mention of other gerudo characters are Koume and Kotake, resurrecting their son in the Oracles games through their own sacrifice and failing to bring anything back but a monstrosity incapable of making conscious decisions. Granted, most games in that extremely weird Fallen Timeline predate OoT and therefore had yet to make gerudos up at all. Still: canonically, between the gap of OoT and ALLTP, whatever it may be, gerudos disappeared here as well.

I think there’s something subtle and a little heartbreaking about the fact that no matter what Ganondorf does, the gerudos always end up dying out. His yearning for Hyrule, its gentler wind and the Triforce blessing its lands always costs him the kingdom that he does have already.

Now, does he care? A lot of people would argue that he doesn’t, that he used them like pawns for his own ambition and saw them as servants more-so than sisters, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Nintendo’s official opinion, but… One very powerful thing about most of Ganondorf’s incarnations (focusing on the human ones) is that he never seems to reject his cultural heritage. They could have gone for him wearing more kingly hylian stuff given the whole underlying theme of envy and pride surrounding his character, but never once does he try to look more hylian, beyond the ear situation that seems to be tied to the Triforce of Power? Either way: he is gerudo. Several of his outfits reference his mothers, as well as general gerudo patterning and jewelry. His heritage is something he proudly displays, even hundred of years in the future when there is no one left to remember what it means but him. I think it’s a very potent piece of characterization, an arc that crosses over multiple game and says something pretty intense about this character’s fate and his inherent destructiveness over the things he touches –starting with the Triforce, all the way up to his very own body and mind. His mental breakdown by the end of Wind Waker, when the king of Hyrule himself forces him to give up on the thing he sacrificed everything for, takes a new kind of weight with the whole picture taken into account.

(not to excuse genocide or general egomania-fueled madness and violence, but one thing doesn’t mean the other isn’t also relevant)

Regardless of whether this is a tragedy for Ganondorf as their uhh complete failure of a king, honestly, it is undeniably a tragedy for the gerudos themselves: a once-in-a-lifetime joyful event turned into a never-ending nightmare from which there seems to be no escape, their legacy now condemned to fade to black, leaving nothing behind but a demon boar forever laying ruin upon the world.

One may say I’m taking on the bleakest explication for the gerudos’ absence when there could be others. It’s true! Perhaps the gerudos are just chilling off-screen, completely fine, not interested in whatever is happening in the kingdom nearby and their disaster child having yet another temper tantrum about not being the Goddesses’ favorite boy. It’s possible! But regardless, what little elements we do possess as players doesn’t seem to support this, even if it remains possible –and regardless of actual gerudo lives, gerudo culture is definitively a goner in every single timeline.

Even if they did survive... Hyrule still won its unification war.

(I won’t mention Skyward Sword as they are not really a thing there, except for a butterfly that seems to suggest the Gerudo Province was a thing before the gerudo people –I don’t know what to do with this honestly– and the whole Groose situation, which, I’m not sure what to make of either beyond the fact that he may have gotten cursed by opposing Demise? And then went on to start the gerudo tribe, which ended up being an all-women group for some reason? Maybe? It’s not confirmed? I feel like it’s more of a fun tidbit than a central piece of the gerudo puzzle, so I’ll leave it there like I would a cool rock I brought back from a walk and that I don’t know where to put in my house)

Then, Breath of the Wild happened and changed things.

BREATH OF THE WILD

(Additional short note, but: while I won’t mention Four Swords Adventure, since it’s a weird one that almost nobody has played and severely messes with the Timeline, we kind of see the beginnings of what is about to happen in Breath of the Wild in this game –gerudos coming back without much explanation, then distancing themselves from Ganondorf to become friends with hylians because he was too hungry for power and now they are nice and have good reputation because they are our friendsss)

I was actually so happy to learn gerudos were making a comeback in a mainline Zelda game, and this got me more excited about Breath of the Wild than basically anything else the game involved. And getting to explore the Desert once again, meeting this new batch of impossibly tall buff girls, getting more about their language and their culture, Riju and the rest of the little girls are adorable, the grandmas are so cool, the sand seals??? sign me the fuck up??? And above it all, hanging around Gerudo Town at night and feeling as warm and cozy as little me liked to imagine how freeing it would feel, to stay there and watch the desert behind the safety of their walls in OoT… This was great. I loved it.

It was a huge compensation for the criticism I’m about to make, but did leave me with… questions regarding how their culture was going to be handled moving forward.

I’ll start with something small yet deeply revelatory, then work my way from there.

So... gerudos’ ears are pointy now.

This is pretty significant. Lore-wise, it’s been said that the elongated ears of hylians are there so they can better hear the voices of the gods. It’s considered a sign of holiness in-universe. There's a bunch of really thoughtful analysis on tumblr over that whole Ganondorf ear situation, which is a mess but also very interesting, but the short answer is: I think the absence of pointy ears was a clear design choice to originally signify them as Less Good. Even when Ganondorf gets pointier ears, they never get as long as hylians’. Worth noting: not every non-gerudo character has pointy ears: gorons, zoras and ritos (among others) do not possess this trait, and there are even some humans that have regular rounded ears in the series –though they always seem to be of lesser relevance, if not downright peasants in Twilight Princess. Pointy ears always tended to implied a strict hierarchy in the series: basically, the more pointy, the more Protagonist you become.

(also their eyes becoming green instead of the traditional yellow/golden, which looks more wicked and demonic --and cooler also tbh)

The pointy ears imply two things. From within the game, this could be interpreted in two ways: either that gerudos… converted, for a lack of a better term, and are now considered holy through their worship of the Golden Goddesses and/or Hylia, or that their mingling with hylians through tens of thousands of years had them acquiring this trait out of sheer genetic override (though they have kept their mostly-women birth rates, their big nose, darker skin –for the most part– and red hair). Probably a healthy mixture of both. Design-wise, it signifies something quite simple to the player: they are on hylians’ side now. They are good guys. We can trust them, even if they still have a little spice in them. They aligned themselves with us and against Ganon in all of its manifestations (even if he’s but an angry ghastly pig being parasitic to everything it touches in this iteration). They are on the side of Good, definitively, and will fight evil by our side.

On that note, I think it’s worth bringing out another major change from their initial iteration, which is their overt friendship with Hyrule as a whole, and with the Royal Family in particular. Despite not allowing any voe inside their walls (we’ll come back to this), their relationship with hylians is pretty neat. They have booming trade roads, travel and meet with the rest of the cultures, and are fierce enemies with the Yiga clan, who are renowned for being huge Calamity Ganon supporters. The tables certainly have turned. I want to bring out, in particular, Urbosa’s friendship with the queen and her role as the cool aunt taking care of Zelda and protecting her from evil (to be noted: I am not familiar with Age of Calamity so if I’m mischaracterizing her in any way, please let me know). The gerudo sense of sisterhood has been extended to the royals they used to fight against. I would go on and say the cultures peacefully coexist, but I think that what we’re looking at here is a case of vassal behavior, just like we used to have from zoras (in the non-Fallen Timelines) and gorons. This is a huge departure from gerudos being openly rejecting of Hylian culture in their initial iteration, and something that is worth returning to later.

Okay. Now it’s time to mention the weird obsession BotW gerudos have with romance. I didn’t take notice of my issues with their writing until I realized how prevalent of a theme that was. Now, the reason given for gerudos to refuse entry to males (of every race) has much more to do with preventing young gerudos to make mistakes than anything else, and is actively being put into question by the younger generations –which would make sense. But the amount of NPCs that either lament their lack of match, talk about their husbands (because they marry now apparently) or are invested in romance, and a very limited understanding of romance at that (heterosexual, closed, etc), makes for much more of the population that I initially expected. There’s no mention of what’s going on with their males, if there are new males being born and either exiled or abandoned, or if Ganondorf being technically still alive have have cut them off male heirs. Either way: no more kings, only girlbosses chiefs.

To have the gerudos so interconnected with Hyrule, not only through trade but through extremely coded romance where they have to make themselves palatable to a future male partner and enforce fidelity, was… a choice. The extremely brief and skippable mention of gerudos sometimes going to Castle Town in search for boyfriends in OoT became half of their personality traits in this game. We went from a race that was fiercely independent and mocking of the unworthy men who tried to mingle with them, to… this. Now I’m not saying some of the sidequests aren’t cute, or that I didn’t like the wedding, or that the grandma near the abandoned statue of Hylia (so she was worshipped at some point) clocking us and talking about her love life wasn’t one of my favorite gerudo conversations. I’m saying that the vibes have definitively changed. For the better? I’m not sure.

I once stumbled upon an article that said that Breath of the Wild gerudos were a huge improvement compared to their original introduction, because they were no longer presented as evil and hostile thieves groveling at the boot of a single man, but as a full culture allied with the protagonist and actively involved in the story, while still getting their Cool Girl Badass moment (again can’t find it anymore, I’ll link it if I stumble upon it again). I see where this comes from, but I honestly can’t help but consider it a reading that assumes something pretty major (though through no fault of their own, as the games tend to hammer this down as hard as they can), and that being hylians as the unquestioned anchor of Good.

Which, in spite of what the games want me to believe, I… feel uncomfortable taking at face value.

To me, regarding how gerudos are being incorporated in that goodie narrative, this is kind of a case of surface-level feminism trumping over colonialist/imperialist concerns. It becomes more important to perform the aesthetics of being cool and friendly and independent than scratching at any deeper problem that would risk making people uncomfortable. This is kind of Green Skin Ganon all over again: oh wait, isn’t it a little icky to have the evil bad guy being brown while faced by the most aryan-looking ass heroes of all time? Okay, then let’s take the brown guy and make his skin green so we don’t have to feel bad anymore that the conflict has racial undertones!! Solved!! There’s nothing questionable about changing a PoC's features to make it more monstrous and less human, right?

To me, it’s kind of the coward option: instead of accepting the messy reality those initial choices created (and their interesting nuances if taken at face value), let’s just… rewrite the PoC culture’s history to make it feel less uncomfortable for the white heroes. In many ways, it is an extension of what hylians have always done: scrubbing the weird and messy things about the past and shoving them deep down into the spooky well and far into the desert prison and away in alternate hellish dimensions, and then make up a very simple story where they get to feel good about themselves –except this time, it’s the fabric of the games, the literal reality, bending backward to make it happen. Which, in my opinion, makes it much worse than before. Now, there’s no conversation. The fabric of reality is changing their own history so that there is nothing to discuss anymore. Ganondorf was always evil incarnate. He never had any point. It was always 100% his own fault, his own hubris, his own fated wickedness. He was always demonic (and green, very important –having a flashback to people on twitter accusing artists restoring the TotK green skin to the original brown of wanting to make Ganondorf black, and like….. how do I put it gently…..)

And, above all else: gerudo are to distance themselves from his legacy so they can stay in the club of the Good and Just and Holy.

Because here’s the messy thing: as much as I love seeing the gerudos again in Breath of the Wild and as much I love for them to have survived the Era of Myth (??? somehow ???), this… kind of changes Ganondorf’s character arc. No longer do we have the story of a king who wanted more, either for his people, for himself or both, and led his culture to its destruction in his search for absolute Power, while remaining ironically incapable of maintaining what little he already had. This starts from him kneeling to the king of Hyrule in OoT and leads to the deluge, Arbiter’s Ground, his own mothers dying for the sake of his failed resurrection. Breath of the Wild changes this: now, the gerudo were apparently fine without him? They apparently did their own thing and became suddenly and inexplicably disconnected from his actions? I know it’s kind of implied they side with hylians at the end of OoT, but it’s honestly never really explored why they would cheer for the death of their king while never seeming to resent him before except for Nabooru –there are mentions of brainwashing for those who resist him (as well as “other groups in the desert”, tho they are never mentioned again), but it’s hardly a proper plot point for the majority of the tribe, aaaand they still die by Wind Waker in the Adult Timeline, in spite of their potential alliegance…

(again, this shift towards submitting to Hyrule actually started with Four Swords Adventure, getting crisper with each iteration)

There used to be this polite blur regarding Ganondorf’s relationship to them, how much he used them and how much he acted in their name (with arguments for both sides), and I think this messy and debatable question mark was one of the most compelling aspects of his character. Gerudos rejecting their relationship at a near-cosmic, reality-bending level, removes a huge layer of complexity to both parties… all for the benefit of making hylians come out cleaner out of this whole exchange, their moral grayness barely a whisper in the distance.

I’ll kind of go on the record and say that I suspect the addition of Demise to the canon to serve a similar purpose (at least in part): if Ganondorf becomes but the manifestation of a demonic curse, and is no longer an extremely messy character brimming with agency and drive, forcing the heavens to reckon with said agency in a way he was never meant to access, born from a complex set of circumstances from which we clearly get only a limited and biased perspective, then it becomes extremely clear that he’s a Bad in a way that isn’t worth exploring further. Even if he does have some points, he is a Bad. It’s what matters most. Not to say I even hate what this angle can bring to the table or that I want him to become Good (I don’t –I’ll talk more about why I dislike most takes on him being a helpless victim to the curse), but once again, who benefits from adding another Unquestionned Baddie to the equation to rest upon? Not him, and not the gerudos, that’s for sure.

So. Why did I, me, personally, like the gerudos in the first place?

Beyond the inherent coolness factor of their culture and the fascinating mysteries of what is merely suggested, I think… I think I loved gerudos because we were obvious outsiders. Because their rejection of Hylian culture was so sharp and extreme, their value system so different, and their writing, their religion, their relationship to power and hierarchy and worth wanted nothing to do with hylians. They didn’t need hylians, beyond them having potential resources to steal. In fact, the threat of hylians influencing their culture was such that the entry to the Fortress was forbidden to everyone (I don’t think men were ever singled out, by the way, even though they are mocked relentlessly). I think there was something inherently hopeful about this semi-matriarchy resisting the outside world, and especially its notions of what girls were meant to be –it was 1998, and every other girl character in OoT, besides Impa and Sheik that?? is another can of worms entirely, is either helpless or someone to save. For them to reject this narrow vision of femininity was, in my opinion, much more radical than what we got in BotW. Less nuanced, more problematic perhaps? But also much more powerful. Gerudo Valley is home, not to a town, but a Fortress.

Hylians were worth being resisted.

In Breath of the Wild, their refusal to let men enter their town is kind of boiled down to a fading tradition over-focused on romance, a meek little game of chase. Their entire goal seems to be finding a hylian to settle down with. Say what you will about the single man and the many girls (never explored and completely open-ended in its implications, btw), but at least it wasn’t… that. At least it opened the way for different ways for people to exist and imagine culture and civilization, outside of the heterosexual couple, the christian-infused patriarchy and its trickling down implications. What I want to say is: let my girls tell hylians they ain’t shit!! That they aren’t the end all be all of reality! This is what made gerudos so compelling in the first place! Where is that bite now? Where is that self-definition?

It’s gone, because hylians need to be Good. So we tee-hee at the creep running laps around the town, we disguise ourselves to breach their trust and infiltrate their town (though there is nuance to be had there, gender be complicated etc), we watch them pine after shitty dudes and take classes to become the perfect approachable woman and make love soups with ?? strange ingredients honestly, and we witness them get very friendly with the Royal Family they used to conspire against, dying to protect the princess against the manifestation of their ancient king reduced to a raving puddle of Bad Boar.

Hyrule, unified against him.

TEARS OF THE KINGDOM

For posterity’s sake: this post was made before the game was released. I’ll probably update my thoughts on a separate thing later on.

I don’t think gerudos allying with the hylians and burying their own legends about Ganondorf as deeply underground as they can until it blows up in their face is a bad setup at all. It’s actually pretty juicy, and there’s a ton of fascinating stuff that could happen here –even some involving gerudos taking a firm stand against him while still reconnecting with their past and the choices they made once. This is my hope with the title of the game: Tears of the Kingdoms. Let’s examine them all, account for the damage, and decide how we move forward from there with the full knowledge of where we come from.

What I am afraid of (and I already made posts about that) is the scenario where gerudos rallying against Ganondorf, which I expect will forcefully try to take back his place as their king, is used for cheap feminist points that completely fail to examine, well. Everything mentioned above. Where reality bends itself out of the way of the Goddesses, and hylians’ responsibility in any of this mess, so that everything bad is 100% Ganon’s fault and so he must be cast aside and torn away from the Cool Gerudo Girls and this is 100% justified and deserved because we are Independent Women Who Take No Shit from No Men (unless they are the king of Hyrule or any random hylian they wish to marry apparently).

I’ll say this here because it’s been burning my mouth every time I see discourse about Ganondorf and the gerudo: gerudos declared him as their king. To make a really bad comparison that I dislike: he didn’t run around to assemble girls and make a cult around himself, he was born with the cult already formed around him (and it’s not a cult, it’s just a different mode of governance –hylians also revere the Royal Family like gods, don’t they?). This heavily changes the dynamics at play. Not to remove any agency from him to do a little invasion about it, but chances are the ancestors to BotW’s gerudos fully expected him to behave in this way, at least to a degree –in OoT you see very plainly that they value physical prowess, feats of thievery, witchcraft and general violence. It’s more complicated than him being a Bad and making the poor helpless women go along with the plan uwu –even taking the brainwashing into account, AND Koume and Kotake counting as gerudos too, even if they might not be not fully innocent in shaping the culture and the man himself. If manipulation and forced servitude is the explanation given, I’ll be genuinely mad –because, once more, all the nuance and messiness would be flattened for the sake of making Ganondorf Bad and the gerudo Good (= on hylians’ side).

It bears to be said: I think feminism stances that require, not to criticize (which is fair), but to fully dehumanize and bestialize men of color to make any sense are uhhh bad, and it's worth questionning who they end up serving in the end.

The flip side of this would be to make Ganondorf a poor little meow meow that was secretly controlled by the evil Demise all along, and... I’ll be real. I really don’t think it solves our problem at all. It might even make it worse.

My problem with how gerudos have been handled thus far, being mostly connected to how they behave in relation to hylians Good, is that they’ve been systematically defanged not to threaten the status quo as much as they used to. I think it’s pretty clear why I’m not a fan of Ganondorf being a mere victim of cosmic circumstances; I have a post that goes more in depth about this, but to simplify: my man has legitimate grievances. To make him a mere puppet to Evil Incarnate would, to me, be just another attempt to erase the despotism of the Goddesses, the unjust hierarchy of the world, what hylians have historically done to the races they were in conflict with (looking at the Yiga for the most recent example…)

I’m not saying his fight is clean or even legitimate, that he isn't driven by his own sense of self-importance above anything else, or that he should win (he has no plan beyond domination and victory, that's not a future). But I think there’s something really important about having someone being willing to fully consume himself and everything around him for the simple fact that someone should resist the order of the world. Even if that makes him a heartless, cruel, and egomaniac demon-pig. Even if there’s no Hyrule left to rule. Even if his own people despise him, or are long gone and forgotten.

Is it a little heart-wrenching? Uhh yes to me yes most definitively. This is why Wind Waker Ganondorf hits so hard, and remains (I think) his favorite entry in the series so far. But… I still find this fate of eternal resistance more resonant and empowered, and far less grim, than if Hyrule’s lore absorbs his hatred and rage, gives it to another entity that would be Badder (= more opposed to hylians and the goddesses), and scrubs it off anything icky and uncomfortable, rendering it completely domesticated and non-threatening to hylian domination; rubbed of his skin color, of his complexity, of his own emotions, even made... kind of sexy now, in the same way his sisters have been made before him? I am very, very afraid of him being turned from furious and an unapologetic subject in his own legend to a "redeemed" (according to whom??) and palatable object in somebody else’s, that you now end up having to… save from himself.

Again, I want to trust that Tears of the Kingdom can walk that line and preserve everything sharp and contrasting and profound and thrilling about this fascinating setup. I don’t expect a philosophy course, this is a game for children –but it doesn’t mean Nintendo didn’t do an astounding job with similar setups in the past. Again, I’ll invoke the Wind Waker conflict, but Twilight Princess did a lot of great things as well (Zant’s speech, if you can get past the weird stretches and stumping and NNHYAAAs, is pretty fantastic) –and the subtle writing of Majora’s Mask is also proof enough this series can be complex without being impermeable.

So this is where my hope lies. Not really with BotW’s writing, which, I’m sorry to say, but I found to be below what the series has done in the past (I have no problem with the setup and how the story is explored, I think it was a great idea, but wasn’t ever sold on the actual writing the way I may have been with previous titles –it felt… very tropey to me overall, with a couple of highlights). But Nintendo has shown to know how to write compelling stories for children that know where to sprinkle its darkness and how to preserve its hope, and this is this side I’m relying on for this delicate storyline moving forward.

And now? Now… I suppose we wait and see.

(thank you for reading my impossibly long essay what the actual hell, at least I got it all out of my system, see you in part 2 for when TotK comes out I suppose aaa)