#and i hate myself for having wants because it makes me feel weak and its been too dangerous to let myself feel weak for so long

[ghastigiggles]

(p.2) unlearning takes time

[part 1] [...] [part 3 (not done yet)]

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[yikes-ajax-thats-sad]

People really think trust issues are just "aww they're scared of love" and it's like bitch no. Trust issues as in I'm deeply in love and the issue is I'm waiting for you break my heart after undergoing periodic abuse in relationships. I'm not scared of love I'm scared of what you'll do with it.

[mars-ipan]

ggghhghrrgh i hate when i get an injury in a joint

[goththembo]

Hard to make arguments for the parentals at this point like metronoming btwn staying a part of their lives and just disappearing to as physically far away from them as possible when i move out

[mattysprincess]

Love me like it’s the last thing you’ll do.

This is the prequel to this Drabble

SMUT! MDNI!!

It’s not proofread so if you find any mistakes don’t be shy to DM me!! And I’m always open for criticism and tips!

You and Mattheo had been dating for around 1 month, you kept your relationship Private for now because as much as he loved you… he was still scared of others viewing him as weak for actually having feelings, for being in love.

For the record, Mattheo Riddle has never been in a relationship nor romantically involved with any girl ever, it was all hookups and one night stands and so you understood that he wanted to take it slow, understanding his worries and fears.

The problem with that however is that you can’t show affection to eachother in public, leading to others thinking you’re single and free to hit on… which Mattheo can’t seem to handle very well.

Mattheo shoots you a quick text after some overly confident Gryffindor tried flirting with you.

‘My dorm. Now.’

That doesn’t sound too good… You immediately make your way to his dorm, not bothering to knock, as always, you slowly push the door open revealing a frowning Mattheo pacing in his room. “Why were you so close to him?” He immediately shoots and his tone confirms your bad feeling. “Mattheo-“ “Why the fuck were you even with him? Did he make you laugh? Is he better? Did you flirt with him-?!” “Mattheo.”

Your firm voice cuts through his questions and he looks at you as you step closer, standing right infront of him now. “Will you let me speak?’’ He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but nods. “Thank you.. no, I did not flirt with him, no he didn’t make me laugh and no he isn’t better than you. He came up to me and tried to flirt but I told him I’m not interested and to use his awful flirting skills with someone else.” You cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb back and forth gently. “You know you’re the only one I allow to flirt with me…”

Mattheos expression soften at your words and touch, feeling guilty for even thinking you would. “I’m sorry I just- I don’t know… I hate when guys think they can flirt with you and have a chance with you.” He lifts one hand to cup yours that’s on his cheek, squeezing lightly. You smile at his little gesture and apology, letting out a soft breath.

“It’s okay Matty… just next time let me speak first, yeah?” you chuckle softly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, making him let out a chuckle under his breath.

“I don’t deserve you…” he mutters lowly, looking at you like you’re the most precious living and breathing thing. You feel a light pink dust your cheeks, yet a frown finds its way to your lips. “Matty… you do deserve me.” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper and he just shakes his head. “Baby… you’re everything I never will be. You’re soft, delicate, sweet… you’re like a ray of sunshine wherever you go. You make people happy just by smiling at them, your voice brings others comfort and warmth. You’re every good thing bundled up into a person and I'm-" he sighs and sits down at the edge of his bed, looking down "and I’m me.” he murmurs.

The frown on your face stays as you walk up to stand between his legs, cupping his cheeks to coax him to look up at you. “look at me please my love..” you say softly, so much warmth in your tone that he can’t help the way his heart flutters, the way he looks up at you so willingly. He’d do anything if you’d just asked with that sweet voice of yours, one word, a simple syllable is enough to make him forget about everything else. “Mattheo you’re you and that’s what makes you so special.” you whisper, like sharing a secret with him “you say you’re not sweet, kind nor soft… but when you touch me it’s like I’m made out of the finest porcelain, when you talk to me I feel like I’m floating, you go out of your way to do anything that might make me crack a smile and you always help me with everything even if I keep telling you I can do it myself.” You smile at him, stroking his cheek and he smiles back lightly “I know you can do it yourself.. but I’m your boyfriend, I want to do it for you. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.” He takes one of your hands that’s on his cheek and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “This is why you deserve me Mattheo… me and so much more.” You whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

The kiss, supposed to be sweet, quickly gets deeper as he tangles one of his hands in your hair and his other pulls you onto his lap, pressing you flush against him. He nudges his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you grant him so willingly. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, exploring you like he’s done countless of times yet it still feels different. Softer, gentler, more passionate and like he’s pouring all of his love and affection into a single kiss. It’s making both your heart swell with love as well as make your pussy throb with excitement and desire and you know Mattheos feeling the same because the second you grind your hips down onto his you feel his bulge pressing flush against you, the only thing separating you being his pants and your panties.

“Fuck… baby I need you.” He murmur against your lips, his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, thumbs striking the undersides of your breasts as his mouth moves down to press hot opened mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your throat.

“Then take me, Matty… I’m only yours to take.” You breathe out, Mattheos eyes darkening as the words leave your mouth. “That’s right… mine.” He murmurs against your skin and lifts your shirt up and over your head, leaning back to admire you. “Merlin… you’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful girl.. all mine baby.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to you.

His hands roam your body, squeezing and caressing whatever he can, all the while whispering sweet nothings against your skin. You let him, sitting in his lap all soft and pliant and patient, just letting him feel you and worship you however he wants. His hands reach your thighs, going up and under your skirt, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties. “You gonna be a good girl and let me worship your pretty little body, baby?” He murmurs against your neck and all you can do is nod as your stomach flutters in the best way possible. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me hm?” He grins, pulling your panties down your legs and patting your thigh, silently telling you to stand so you do. He pulls them down completely, then slowly unzips your skirt, letting it drop and pool at your feet. You stand before him, bare as he finally unclasps your bra and removes the last piece of clothing that’s preventing him from seeing all of you. He stands, towering above you as he grabs your waist and lays you down on the bed. “You’re beautiful… fuck you’re so perfect, baby, I could look at you forever and never get bored of it.” He whispers under his breath, looking at you with soft eyes yet you see the hunger behind them, the simmering heat of desire he’s only ever had for you. You reach up, fingers tangling in his curls before coming down to cup his cheeks “I wanna see you too, Matty… please.” The second you utter please, whatever it is, Mattheo will always give you. So he leans down to peck your lips, a lingering kiss, before leaning back and taking off his shirt. Now it’s your eyes roaming over his body, unashamed desire on full display as well as admiration for his trained and scarred body. His hands go down his belt, undoing it quickly and then unzipping his pants, kicking them off and leaning back over you. “That needs to go too.” You whisper with a smile and point to his black boxers, he grins back at you amusedly “someone’s impatient.” You raise a brow at him “as if you want to wait any longer?” He chuckles at that, pressing kisses from your forehead to your cheek and then finally to your lips “I wanna take my time with you tonight, Angel. Let me show you I love you… how much you mean to me.” Your lips part slightly as you look up at him, he sounds so vulnerable and genuine… you could never deny him anything, not that you wanted to anyways so you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m yours, Mattheo. Tonight, tomorrow, always.” He closes his eyes for a moment, heart beating dangerously fast and a smile graces his lips “and I’m yours, Angel. Tonight, tomorrow, always.”

With that he starts pressing open mouthed kisses down your body, taking a nipple between his lips as he reaches your breasts, making you moan as he swirls his tongue around it, sucking, licking and kissing while his hand is caressing the other bud. Your hands tangle in his unruly curls, tugging slightly as he gently bites you, not being able to resist it. He releases your right nipple with a pop, blowing cool air on the wet bud and making goosebumps raise on your entire body. He moves to the other, giving it the same attention before moving further down to your stomach, kissing and licking whatever he can. When he gets down to your hips, he sucks a hickey right above where your panties would be.

He moves lower and lower but right past where you need him most, making your squirm slightly and he smirks. “Be patient, baby… I’ll give you what you want, just be good a little longer.” He murmur against the inside of your thighs, biting you there gently and making you yelp slightly and tug at his hair. His tongue goes over the spot he bit gently, soothing the sting and saying sorry. He litters your thighs in hickeys and bite marks until your legs are clenching and trembling from the heat that’s pooled right between your legs. “Matty please…” he chuckles slightly, looking up from between your legs “such good manners for me…” he licks a long stripe up your pussy, making you moan out as your head drops back against the pillow.

He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue reaching whatever it can. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your hips, one hand sprawled over your stomach possessively. Moans and whimpers tumble from your lips, his name on your tongue like a prayer as he devours you whole. The only thing on his mind is your pleasure, how to make you feel good… how he wants to be the only one to ever see you or make you feel this way, driven by those thoughts the dives in with even more fervour “I can feel you clench angel… cum for me, right on my tongue like a good girl.”

Those words push you over the edge, your whole body tensing up as you clench your thighs around his head and he swears he’s in heaven. He laps up your release, making you twitch and only when he’s made sure he’s got every last drop he lifts his head, crawling back over you and licking his lips “I might just need to give you a new nickname… you taste so sweet, fuck I’d give up every meal on this planet if it meant I got to eat you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs with a smile and you look up at him, chest heaving with pants, small smile on your lips “so what will you call me?” He grins at that “I think sweetness would fit you quite well, wouldn’t it?” That tears a small giggle from your lips, making Mattheo grin wider.

After calming down a bit, you tense up again as you feel his dick prodding at your entrance “oh you didn’t think we’re done, did you?” He grins “I’d be disappointed if we were, Matty.” And with that he slowly pushes in, making sure you feel every inch of his rock hard cock as he splits you open. You gasp, clawing at his back, it was always difficult to take him but with his gentle words and soft coos it somehow seems so much more intense then all the times before.

“Shhh I’ve got you angel, I’ve got you… relax for me, can you do that? Can you be a good girl and relax for me?” He coos softly on your ear, making you want to do whatever he asks without question so you try your best to relax for him. He feels your walls unclench the slightest bit and smiles, peppering soft kisses along your face and jaw once’s he’s fully inside you. “So good for me… you’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you.” He whispers against your skin and you can’t help but clench around him again, making him groan.

He lets you adjust for a couple seconds before he pulls back until only his tip remains and pushes back in, making you let out a loud moan. He grins and does it again, setting a slow rhythm, each thrust hard and deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He grunts above you, small hisses and pants leaving his lips and it’s the hottest things you’ve ever experienced.

He slowly picks up the pace, grabbing your hips with one hand while the other goes to your neck, squeezing lightly which oddly brings you comfort. “Matty..!” Your breathless voice rings out and Mattheo cant help but go harder, almost pounding into you before pulling out completely, a whine slipping from your lips. But before you could get any word of protest out he grabs you and turns you around, hands and knees digging into the mattress as he slips back inside on one long thrust. “I’m gonna take you like this and you’re gonna love it, okay?” He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his one hand slips down to press against your stomach while he moves in and out of you. “F-fuck… Mattheo oh my god..!” You feel him deep inside you, so much more intensely then before and your face drops into the sheets as he pounds into you from behind.

“Fuck you’re amazing… I love you much, can you feel how deep I’m inside you? No one will ever get that deep because You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust, your eyes roll back and in that moment all you think about is him, how he makes you feel and how you’ll only ever be his for the rest of your life. The hand on your stomach reaches down, playing with your clit as he pounds into you impossibly faster “come with me, sweetness. Come on my cock while I come inside you.” He breathes into your ear and you all but comply, clenching around him tightly and coming for the second time that night with a loud moan of his name.

He rides out your orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppy and with a few more his body jerks and he sheaths himself deep inside you, filling you up with his hot cum as you twitch from the feeling. You fall onto the mattress and he rolls you over onto your back before collapsing on top of you, his head buried in your neck as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I love you…”

Im so sorry for being inactive guys, I’ve been a bit stressed lately. Take this as an apology and happy New years! Love all of you <3

~Princess

Taglist: @revesephemeres @ur-local-wizard

[taetr4ck]

LOVE IN SCRIBBLES — ten things han jisung writes in his love letters for you

han jisung x reader — fluff, teeny bit of angst

a/n: HIIIIII OMG WHAT (this is the first time me writing in ages) t____t nursing school sucked me dry (my brain included) please forgive me… also we finally reached 600 !! thank you so much my pookiebears 🙂‍↕️💗

bang chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

i. Has the world been treating you kindly these days, my love? I hope it has. Because if it hasn’t, I’m still here. You are my world anyway.

ii. I learned that nobody touches me if I look sharp. But you took the risk and told me you’re willing to do whatever it takes— even if it causes you to bleed. But my love, you never bled. Am I that easy to love?

iii. I always cry whenever I think about the time that we will get to the point where we will break up. Not that it will happen, but the thought of it just makes me sick to my stomach.

iv. I am not good with fragile things, but I swear I will love all that you unearth for me—your stinted roots, all the tenderness you’ve long buried.

v. And suddenly, all the songs I write are all about you.

vi. You know, I don’t fantasize or dream about having the perfect life. I just want to wake up happily, seeing the sunrise— and perhaps waking up somewhere safe, just like in your arms. I’m thinking about having a nice kitchen, bedroom, and a nice mini studio decorated by you or me (or us both) so you can still have all of me even though I’m working. I could be anywhere as long you’re by my side.

vii. I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden.

viii. It’s time to stop hating yourself for what others did to you, jagiya. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.

ix. Ever since I started loving you, waking up doesn’t feel heavy anymore. Breathing isn’t as hard as it seemed. My anxiety turned into courage. My what-ifs turned into “I did it”. Working doesn’t drain me that much anymore. I am starting to live for 5 am sunrises and morning coffees. Heck, I don’t eat breakfast— but when you said to me that I should take care of myself more often, I enjoy waking up to sunlight, knowing there is someone who is looking forward to seeing and being with me. Perhaps love is something like a gentle embrace to my tired and weak soul— giving me an unexplainable refresh within. All I yearn for is to belong to something, to be contained with an all-embracing mind that sees me as a single thing and not a fragile glass that has been dropped multiple times, spreading its fragments on the ground. Yet you see me more than that, and I sometimes ever wonder if I even deserve that.

x. Whenever someone asks me what love is, I always say your name.

taglist : @agi-ppangx @ashracha @bluethemoments @wonootnoot @ruskzi @thamihh | taglist form

( jisung layout is from @/i-wolfbit ! )

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023.

[thomas-jefferson-miku-binder]

I hate Mel Medarda discourse because she’s an insanely well-written character with a lot of depth, but people almost always have only two things to say about her: 1) evil girlboss or 2) never did anything wrong. both make me want to krill myself 🦐

In front of you, there’s a female character born of war who rejects the physical brutality of her family’s name and the regime she was born under. except said violence never really goes away because if it ever does leave, nothing else would remain

This character can and will reproduce the hatred she has always known, just in more palpable ways, ways where she’s allowed to look away — or even better, ways where she’s so distanced from the action itself that where she “looks” doesn’t even matter

It’s also so interesting to think that maybe Mel doesn’t dislike physical violence because it’s “bad” but simply because she does not excel at it The thought that if Mel was maybe stronger or a more skilled fighter, she would be just like her mother tickles my brain. yaaaas Although, to me, that's a more "what-if" scenario than the actual characterization Arcane deceipts

By the way, I do not think Mel is a monster. She clearly does try to be what she considers a "good" person, but the violence she’s always known sometimes escapes (just like in the Viktor scene above — she does not like to be disagreed with).

Sooo insane that she’s a diplomat/politician because yes. what other job in the world would allow her to exercise that repressed violence while also giving her the sense of duty—of goodness.

Mel is stuck at the scene of the execution form her childhood. All she does is repeat the same scenario in her head with different outcomes: sometimes one where she saves the prisoner, another where she doesn’t hesitate (that being the keyword here) to kill her

This reverberation of the violence she suffered is just her manner of coping with that traumatic scene. a way of lessening the pain without actually confronting its cause.

I feel like I need to clarify that no, I do not think Mel is “evil”. I don’t even think she is intentionally manipulative (most of the time), I think she handles people the only way she knows how to, which is probably one of the only reasons she survived Noxus at all (as, to how I see it, there's only a certain extent your House will guarantee your protection in Noxus).

I know the fandom talks a lot about Viktor and Jayce being idealistic, but I rarely see people mention how Mel is just as romantic. Jesus- that’s literally a huge source of conflict with her mother: Ambessa thinks Mel is naive, which to her means weakness, which to her is unacceptable.

I hate that Mel Medarda is forced to be subjected to fandom spaces, because, no, she is not a small bean. no, she’s not an evil girlboss.

Do I believe she is a good person? I think she tries to be (even if her notion of goodness is so heavily aligned with honor, too), and that tells me a lot more about her character than how successful she is at it

[pm-my-beloved]

Expresions of Sins

BREAKS THROUGH THE WALL I HAVE NOTICED A DETAIL MOST INGENIOUS

You guys know how we have Mirror Dungeon floor packs, I have seen some (Including myself) look at the sin weaknesses ones to interpret what sin... weaknesses in EGO could mean.

ONLY NOW have I thought to notice the theme packs of USERS of those sins. While i don't think those are representing what sins themselves are using, I do think they might signify the main expressions of those sins, or maybe degrees of that expression

Beware, this is going to be more chaotic, as I am writing this RAW without any particular deep analysis, more as a jump-off point for thinking, and all of it might just be making a lot out of nothing BUT WHATEVER ANYWAYS STARTING WITH

Wrath, which is represented with words "Repressed" and "Unbound", quite contradictory adjectives to attach to the same word. With the fact that "Unbound" one is the one with warning signs, it might reffer to degrees. Repressed is expression of wrath that is still somewhat managable when we contain the rage against injusticies or what we hate, while unbound is when this sin goes beyond control, when the fires of hatred overtake our actions (Hi sinclair and Ishmael)

Addiction and Tangling. Personal reading here, Addiction is something that comes up because theres lack in your life that you feel the need to fill, so here its pursuit of lust in search to fix what we are lacking, while tangling is when we are completly out of control of it, when instead of pursuing lust, its lust that controls us (hi bloodfiends)

Treadwheeling is basically a meaningless action that brings no change, so treadwheel sloth is acts which either perpetuate status quo, or have no bearing on reality, actions that change nothing. Then Inert sloth, is when we stop taking actions all-together of our own volition, rather, just flow according to our preexisting pressures and circumstances (oh hi yi sang)

Here my reading is as such Devoured Gluttony somewhat implies that there is some form of satiantion to this hunger, this craving according to which someone acts, while excessive suggests that there never will be any form of satisfaction to ones pursuits (Oh hi faust, what are you doing here)

Yeahhh i've got nothing.

Vain pride seems to imply simply perceiving oneself as better to others, while tyrannical being such certainty in ones superiority or rightousness as to impose it onto others.

With how I read envy as at its core inferiority, the Insignificance here seems to read to me as acting in perception of oneself as not worth the time, effort or attention (Oh hi heathcliff), while pitiful is when that goes to level where one perceives ones existance as lamentable to a point where one deserves some sort of compensation for it.

Sorry for complete chaos of this one, I can't really focus my thoughts RN and wanted to put this out.

Also, @lu-is-not-ok pinging the OG sin interpreter to see his potential thoughts if he feels like those theme packs hold any sort of significance.

[endearing-dalliance]

My two cents on Jayce's final speech

While I do not consider myself disabled, I have chronic health issues that are sometimes disabling. And I'm used to having to live my life with that in the back of my mind. Not in a self-hating way, simply pragmatically. I need certain medications and technology in order to function in a way I find worth living for. While I certainly don't speak for the entire disabled community, I'm not unfamiliar with the struggle™.

TLDR: they really, really needed a sensitivity reader or disabled person's input. A for the idea, F for the execution

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You've always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses. Your leg."

Jayce: *breaks leg* *leg can now no longer support his weight* *builds brace to compensate for leg weakness* *proceeds to shame Viktor for wanting a permanent fix for his own leg issue*

"Your disease."

Last season, when Viktor's disease was actively killing him, Jayce got Heimerdinger voted off the Council so Viktor could keep researching what Jayce himself joyfully admitted was a potential cure. How hard did this man's head hit the bottom of the pit?

But you were never broken, Viktor.

Why is Jayce the one getting to say what is and isn't broken? Broken is literally defined as "damaged and no longer in working order". The man was in chronic pain, visibly wasting away before our eyes, and born with a body that was not functioning as it should. Viktor describes his body as "eroding". He has never said that it makes him feel bad about himself as a person. Even when he called himself a cripple, its one of a list of obstacles he’s had to overcome to get where he is now. He isn't ashamed, he's proud. And Jayce is inspired by it enough to not to give up on his work. Or his life.

Side note: Some neurodivergent and disabled people use the term broken in a non-offensive way. For some, its a reminder that they the *person* are not broken. For others, its simply a fact of life they adjust to. But that doesn't mean other people get to label them as such.

"There is beauty in imperfections."

Sure, in the same way they used to call tuberculosis "consumptive chic" because it made you pale and thin with red lips. Death isn't beautiful, its devastating.

"They made you who you are, an inseparable piece of everything I admired about you." 

Except, Viktor wouldn't be any less brilliant or determined or humorous if he wasn't disabled. Instantly made me think about this scene from Bojack:

Over and over I have watched the disabled community patiently explaining, passionately advocating, or righteously, ragefully, unceasingly insisting that they are more than their disability. That their disability doesn't define them. To see past it to who they are as a person. That regardless of your personal opinion, they have the same inherent value as an able-bodied person.

I get what Arcane was going for here. I really do. It was a nice idea in theory. But what they ended up with was a well-meaning, able-bodied, privileged person assigning labels to a disabled person's own opinion of himself, tell him what he should and should not do with his body, and then tie this deeply questionable conversation about Viktor's body to Viktor as a person.

And for once true to his S1 character, THAT DID NOT SWAY VIKTOR AT ALL. The last time he saw Jayce, he got soundly rejected. The next scene of them is him continuing to "evolve" Jayce. Ekko's device gave Jayce the opportunity tell Viktor how much he wanted him and THAT made the difference.

[likablenightmare]

Making him submit

part 1 //Tate x Fem Reader

Summary: sucking his pretty cock turns you on making you need him. Usually you submit to him but this time it’s different..

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, oral sex, sex in general… come on it’s Tate Langdon, duhhh.

————————————————————————-

You hated sucking dick and you were never really good at it but with him it was different..with Tate you needed his pretty cock to be in your mouth. As you start to softly lick all around his cock he starts to let out little moans and it turns you on so much you start to suck on it while twirling your soft little tongue all round.. he grasps onto the sheets squeezing them hard, you’re so turned on by his excitement that your throat opens up and sundenly his whole cock is down your throat.. you’re deep throating him.

You have never been so turned on by giving head before but now you’re dripping wet… you want to keep hearing his moans and whimpers. “Mmm.. ahh. Your soft mouth w..with those pretty eyes staring at me..I’m going to cuuum.” You start to feel his cock twitching in your mouth and you’re desperate for his yummy cum. “Ahh, mmm.. I’m cumming!” He yelled as you feel his warm yummy treat fill your mouth. You are so turned on you swallow his cum and let out a little moan… you’re soaking wet.

You want more… you look at him and give him a sexy sweet smile. You wrap your lips back around his beautiful cock, he starts twitching because it’s sensitive from just orgasming. His eyes widen and he grabs onto the sheets again.. sweating with intense pleasure, he is breathing so heavy and making the cutest groans you have ever heard. “Ahh, yea. This feels way too good!” He says. Your tongue swirling and swirling as your sucking him and your pussy is throbbing for him.

Finally you get up and take off your panties and get into doggy position. He quickly rushes to fill you with his cock. As he desperately puts it in, you both let out a lil moan. He grabs onto your waste and is thrusting in and out of you like a maniac… so fast and hard that you can’t help but scream with pleasure.

As he pounds you, the sounds of him hitting against your ass made it that much hotter. “I love hearing myself clap against your perfect ass,” he said. Lucky for you, you already made him cum so he will last long while he fucks you.

You’re starting to shake because feeling him in you makes you weak with pleasure. You turn your head looking behind you to see his face and watch him pump in and out of you… his eyes are glossy as if he is about to cry from how good it feels, his cheeks are turning pink, and there is sweat dripping from his forehead. He bites his bottom lip to hold in a moan as you look into his pretty brown eyes. He flips you onto your back and gets on top of you while making intense eye contact.

Tate leans his head down to yours and starts making out with you as you moan into each others mouths. You both twirl your tongues together and it feels like absolute heaven… he spits into your mouth and licks your tongue so you can both share his spit. As you start to cum, your pussy is throbbing on his cock. He whispers into your ear, “yesss, cum for me.”

You reward him for making you cum by telling him he is a good boy. You get on top of him and ride his cock..hard. As your riding him like he is your bitch, using all your strength and weight, you can feel it allll the way inside of you. Usually you completely submit to him but this time its different.

You put your hands around his neck choking him making him whimper like a submissive dog.. he is completely surrendered to you. He can’t stop moaning as you start to nibble and suck on his neck. He whines “,Uuugh , yess… mmm don’t stop.” Of course you weren’t going to stop. It felt too good seeing him be surrendered to you.

You tell him to sit up and he does exactly what you ask. Instantly, sitting up with those submissive eyes. You’re on top of him, hugging your arms around him, you start to give him scratches all over his sexy back. You’re nibbling on his neck softly and then you start sucking his neck hard as you are bouncing on top of him, leaving hickeys all over his neck.

He won’t try to hide the hickeys you give him later on because he is so proud to be yours. Something about him sitting up while you are sitting on top of him facing each other with your arms wrapped around each other is so incredibly intimate..

[ganondoodle]

actively fighting a full blown panic attack born out of sadness and anger after having to drive by yet another victim on the side of the road

it makes me livid how accepted it is to just let cats suffer and die disgustingly horrid deaths and live awful short lives just so what, for what?? so you dont have to play with them for an hour a day??? when i was little it was just kinda normal that they disappeared at some point, i didnt understand what it actually meant until our outdoor cat i loved dearly was found in the bushes near our house in a condition so horrible my dad has never told me and i have never dared to ask, she only made it to 6 and had horrible scars and infections before that i allowed my family to convince me to let my first own cat outside, we only had her for a year, she died at only 2 years old, i am still suffering from the guilt, it has never let me go, she went missing for a week and i walked the entire vilage up and down every day, yelling her name, wandering into the forest alone, talking to every stranger i met until one morning my mom told me that our neighbour who works for the city asked if we had a white cat with a very specific collar she had- he found her on a busy road crossing in the next bigger city, i never even got to bury her, its haunting me, the thought of her wandering lost and scared in the city for a week until meeting an awful end gives me headaches, the fact that i was the last one to see her alive, that i put her outside bc we were late for school and had to leave quickly, that she had come home with oil in her fur from crawling through maschines and cars before, that i was worried but still didnt act, that it is my fault, any time i am up to late its coming back, it will never let me go, if i had stood my ground and not allow her outside unless on a leash or similar shed still be alive today, any time i read a description at our local shelter it comes back, they still advocate for outside cats, all of them, even if they have only been an indoor one before, its madness my older sister had a cat, i dont even know how old he got but it wasnt long either, he got hit by a car in front of their house, she has two now again and the only reason she hasnt let them outside is because they havent shown much interest in it, i tried to warn her before and she didnt listen and shes still resistent, even after losing one too

i have seen so many on the side of the road, anywhere i drive i see them, i cannot forget a single one, we are surrounded by farm land and all its giant maschinery, its still common to poison rodents, why do people value them so little, you wouldnt let your dog just live outside in the woods and streets for half the day or more, you wouldnt just throw your guniea pigs on the road and tell them have fun, you wouldnt just let your bird roam outside, there probably assholes that do that too but you cannot tell me its as common as outside cats

i dont understand it, i dont, i wont, i never will, i will never forgive myself this poor little animal that was my responsibility having to pay the price of my ignorance, or my own weakness letting my family convince me despite the awful way we lost one before, it makes me want to explode it hurts my brain in grief and anger i can barely contain

cats deserve to live a safe and long life, i get only having them inside may feel like you are locking them up, but do you think that not doing so is worth having them die a painful death? being poisonend? on purpose even by disgusting people that hate them? abused and chased by other animals and dogs? hurt and lost? cutting their lifespan in half? if they even make it that far? the amount of wildlife that they kill unnecessarily so when all of that is already in a steep decline everywhere? and if they eat what they hunt get infected with diseases or again, poison? die somewhere in agony? if cared for they dont care about going outside, plenty can be leash trained or given a secure way to roam like those cat proof aviary like things, if you dont want to put effort into caring for a cat DONT GET ONE, ALL pets require adequate care, and if you think cats are the easiest bc you only have to feed them every now and then IF they come home? you suck, you are an asshole, i hate you and you do not care about them, if you just want to occasionalyl feed and pet an animal go to the petting zoo

(this is about pet cats of people who can absolutely afford to keep them healthily inside, i know feral cats and those in poor neighbourhoods are a thing, even if not here where i live, and thats a whole other but still similar problem and not the point of this post)

[yoonyeon0]

Hi, could you write headcanons of Raian Kure in a relationship? Like when he likes someone and doesn't know how to approach them?

original asker most likely couldn’t find my ask box so I did it myself 😭

also, my ask box is always some type of song/lyric so just look for that!

RAIAN KURE RELATIONSHIP HCS

“i hate you, i love you.”

˚�� .ᐟ˙ raian is a very..peculiar lover. maybe not weird, but definitely out of the normal range of lovers. and trust me, it’s even worse when he has feelings he can’t exactly express.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ you gotta be one damn cool and special person to even grab the attention of raian in a romantic sense. you have to be careful and very cautious - someone that doesn’t deal with bullshit and is quick to shut things down. basically someone that is stronger than him mentally but not physically. even with all of your strong points, raian will always somehow be more dominant.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ raian is surprisingly awkward. its the first time he has felt love in a romantic sense and the way it is so intense it takes him off guard which is surprising. obviously his type of awkward isn’t the same as a normal awkward person - it’s wayy more aggressive.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ because raian is so awkward, he doesn’t even know how to go along with his feelings - he most likely doesn’t even realize that he’s in love. he probably treats you like everyone else - insulting, annoying, and more. but he puts a strict ‘no’ at threatening you. he, for some reason, doesn’t want to see you hurt in any type of way and definitely avoids even play fighting with you.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ trust me, if raian has a crush on you, he will pick on you more than he does for anyone else. honestly i feel like that’s why he wants such a mentally strong person, someone that will snap back if they’re insulted because its so much more fun that way!

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ contrary to popular belief, i feel like he shows concern but to an extent. when he has a crush on someone, he will definitely notice new things - whether they are bad or good.

“oi!”

you rolled your eyes and let a loud exhale, obviously irritated by the voice you registered as the man you despised. you don’t know why he was intent on bothering you when your just trying to survive without him being at every corner. you slowly turned around to see the man looking at you with his classic smirk, obviously ready to give you hell.

“hi. what do you want?”

his shit eating grin slowly faded when he looked you up and down before locking on to your broken arm.

“hey. what happened?”

the both of you looked down to your broken arm and prayed he wasn’t going to bring it up but who were you kidding? he always does and you always want to punt him 30 yards.

he slowly started chuckling before breaking into a loud cackle.

“hey! you’re weak as hell! do your bones break when you pick a 5 pound dumbbell or some shit?”

your face obviously scrunched in anger and with a glare that even the birds around you noticed, you went up to him and grabbed his collar.

“shut the hell up. only reason I have this broken arm is because i was busy beating up bitches that wanted you gone.”

he raised an eyebrow before softly chuckling before leaning so close you could feel his hot breath on your eye lashes.

“oh really? what do you want as a reward? maybe a kiss? maybe you want me to get on my knees and thank you, kissing your feet and slowly going up to you thighs and-“

your hand immediately moved from his collar to his face before you gave him a hard slap with your non-broken hand which obviously didn’t even phase him.

“shut up you loser! ugh, i can’t fucking stand you!”

you immediately turned away and walked away, trying to make it seem like you didn’t want to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

unknown to you, raian was behind you chuckling some words while rubbing the slap on his cheek.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ everyone in Kure family can obviously tell that raian’s feelings for you are different than most people around him. it probably became a joke in kure family that you and him were dating because of how obvious it was.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ the person to tell raian that he is very much in love with you is no one other than his own sister, fusui. this probably happened when he was having one of his yearly meetings with her.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he most likely thinks that she’s just being a dumbass 😭

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he would have to get near you one more time after fusui telling him that he’s in love to really believe her words.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ i won’t even lie, he would either never tell you he likes you or he would tell you as soon as he realizes. of course when he does tell you, its not a normal confession.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he def asks fusui for some advice that he tries to take. keyword: tries.

you were so confused right now. there was raian kure, asking you to train with him, knowing damn well that he was so much stronger than you.

“hell no. i know you hate me but i never knew you wanted to kill me.”

he seemed to take a deep breath before looking at you, dead in the eye. he seemed to be looking for something in your eyes. if you hadn’t moved you head slightly, you two would have probably been standing there staring at each other.

“i..don’t hate you.“

he said the sentence so quietly, which was so sudden and surprising, you almost didn’t hear him.

“what did you say? speak up.”

“ugh, you fuckin’ complain too much. cmon, you don’t have a choice. i said i want to train with you. what more of a reason do you want?”

“why? so you can break all of my bones?”

you started getting closer and closer to him, as if to mock or intimidate him.

“huh? what’s wrong? come on say something!”

you stopped right in front of him, now looking up into his eyes. you couldn’t decipher what he was thinking about, what was bugging him. you thought that maybe he was finally going soft on you so you started smirking.

“wipe that fuckin smirk off your face you crazed bitch. making me feel all types of ways, you did this on purpose right?”

your smile faded as raian’s smile came into your sight. he started slowly approaching you while you stepped back, little by little.

“all you want is my validation right? what a whore. well, you got what you want so don’t pussy out now.”

˚꩜ .ᐟ when your relationship with raian finally starts, he doesn’t know what to do. this is most likely his first rodeo and he probably think relationships only consist of fucking and kissing so it’ll be a little hard to teach him that relationships are more than that.

˚꩜ .ᐟ raian is terrible at anything romantic. not that he can’t be romantic, but it’s more of him just doing his own thing.

˚꩜ .ᐟ once a blue moon raian will get you flowers and invite you to train with him because that is his idea of spending time together.

˚꩜ .ᐟ i dont think raian reminds you that he loves you unless you are in a really messed up mental situation but even then he’s hesitant.

not because he doesn’t love you, he just thinks that you already know this. like you being with him isn’t already enough?

˚꩜ .ᐟ i’ll be honest, if you thought that raian would be mentally available; you’re wrong. if you feel like you guys aren’t communicating enough, you’re gonna have to force him to sit and listen to you and and what the two of you should do.

˚꩜ .ᐟ you don’t even suspect raian to be cheating. like not only because of his terrible behavior, he just doesn’t show any interest in people other than you.

˚꩜ .ᐟ you two do get in fights. more than normal. mainly because raian refuses to cooperate and/or communicate with you. he also kinda disrespects and disregards your feelings in fights because he is kind of a dick.

˚꩜ .ᐟ don’t think that he’s like akoya, he definitely notices his wrongs and he always apologizes, even if the apology is just not really him saying sorry. he’s trying okay?

˚꩜ .ᐟ you will NEVER catch him in a submissive way outside of your relationship. but inside the house, he is kinda of a piece of mold. insufferably clingy.

˚꩜ .ᐟ he’s never home. but he always asks to call you and send texts which is adorable in a way. sometimes when he’s feeling extra lonely and romantic, which is rare, he’ll write you a letter that has spots of blood on them. and people say that romance is dead.

˚꩜ .ᐟ no body knows you exist and are in a relationship it’s raian if they haven’t been in the kure village until you two get married. he keeps you secret because he knows how many enemies he has so he doesn’t want you hurt.

˚꩜ .ᐟ does raian want kids? no. does he end up getting them anyway because he doesn’t pull out? yes! but don’t worry, he does love them even if it doesn’t seem like it.

˚꩜ .ᐟ doesn’t like matching things but has a photo of you in his wallet that he FORBIDS people to look at.

˚꩜ .ᐟ will and would buy you whatever you please, just don’t ask him much or it’ll irritate him.

dividers from both @plutism and @aquazero 🥰

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣! 𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, bratty behavior, dirty talk, instruction to give oral (male receiving), implied voyeurism, dubious consent

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Part Four of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)

Nikola speaks. You and Price argue. You're returned to your old life.

Chapter Three // Chapter Five

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

“I want to hear what Nikola has to say. You owe me that.”

“No. You’re staying in here.”

You throw your arm out to the side, pointed in the direction of the shut door. “We did all that. And you’re telling me I’m not allowed to see the results?” You drop your arm to your side. “Are you listening to yourself?”

“I hear perfectly well.” You scoff and Price grimaces, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to explain myself.” He points toward the concrete floor. “You’re staying here. In this room.”

You say each word slowly, letting them drip like venom from your fangs. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Listen to m—”

“Fuck you!” You try to walk past Price to the door, but he steps into your path, blocking your attempt to leave. Struggling to push by him only results in Price’s hands on your shoulders, halting you from reaching the door.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” you snap.

“I remember you liking my hands on you,” replies Price, one eyebrow arching.

Really? This is the time he thinks it’s appropriate to be flirty?

“I hate you.”

Price shakes his head. “No, love. You don’t.” You step backward and Price releases you, holding up his hands before dropping them at his sides.

“I want you to leave.” Price remains where he is. “Get out,” you reiterate.

“There is no reason for you to act like this.”

Now you’re truly angry. Raging. Fuck him. Fuck this place. Fuck all of it.

“You have no right to say that to me,” you say, one hand slicing through the air like an axe.

Price takes a step forward and you take a step back, not wanting to be in his space. “This behavior is childish.”

“Childish?” you laugh. “I have every reason to be this upset. You said all sorts of logical things to convince me to make that audio. To help you out. We—” your voice cuts out and Price’s shoulders stiffen. “We had sex,” you continue. “And then you tell me I don’t get to hear what Nikola has to say?”

Red hot rage simmers under your flesh. If the room wasn’t so bare you’d fucking throw something at him.

“Do you know how that makes me feel, Captain?” When he says nothing, you keep talking. “Do you? Because if you don’t, I’ll fucking tell you.” You lick your lips. “Dirty. I feel like a roach you’ve squashed under your boot. I feel used.”

Price glances at the floor but his features reveal nothing. You’re not sure what you want from Price right now. An apology? Shame? His own matched anger? And what do you want from yourself? How will this help you get anywhere? Things have already transpired. Neither of you can take them back. But fuck—releasing your frustration feels goddamn good.

He is silent a long moment, and it kills you inside, twisting like a knife to the gut.

“Nikola says he’ll talk. If anything he says involves you, we can discuss it,” says Price calmly, finally breaking the quiet.

All the raging fury evaporates. Disappears into the air like water vapor. In its place is cold frustration, and an acceptance that you despise.

“But you won’t allow me to hear it for myself?” Your voice nearly breaks and Price must catch it because he winces. “Why? Just—tell me that. At least. Please.”

Price’s gaze flicks up. It is piercing. Sharp. Slices right through your heart. “Because there are names and information that aren’t for you to hear. And you knowing them puts you in danger. I won’t have that.”

You shake your head, blinking away tears. “You don’t care about me.”

Price takes one step forward, crossing the distance between the two of you in a flash. It startles your resolve, stirs up your weakness for him all over again. “You have no idea how I feel,” he whispers. Those words are a secret, as if you shouldn’t be said at all.

Price is standing so close to you that you’re forced to look upward in order to see his face. In your peripheral, you notice his hand. It clenches into a fist, then releases, and inches toward your face before his fingers brush against your cheek.

It is a soft touch, one that you press against, seeking more. Price obliges, but not in the way you expect. His hand slides to the back of your neck and grabs hold. The switch pulls your breath from your lungs, dissolving all need for oxygen.

Using his hold on the back of your neck, Price draws your faces together until your noses are close to touching. “I should have taken you on the table,” he murmurs. “I regret that.”

As quickly as the words leaves his mouth, Price is turning away, releasing you from his grip, and heading for the door. Your lips part and your body leans forward, missing his absent touch. When the door shuts and the lock falls into place, you’re not even mad. Instead, you go to the edge of the bed, and sit. A heaviness growing in your chest.

That is where Price leaves you. There is no clock or anything to tell the time while you’re stuck in that room. You’re left with his words hanging in the air. You’re left with a twisted stomach, and a violently awful sensation of something unfulfilled.

At some point you drift off, and it isn’t until someone is waking you that you realize you’ve fallen asleep. You sit up and almost smack heads with Skull Face. Ghost is the name you’ve heard, but you also remember Price calling him Simon. But you are not on familiar terms with this man, and ultimately decide to not address him by his first name.

Ghost immediately draws back, towering over you next to the bed. He looks like a creature out of hell the way he’s standing there. It’s fucking creepy.

“Price wants you,” he says in his gruff voice.

So, he’s not going to come get you himself? Fine. It’s not like you care. It’s not like any of this means anything in the end.

Ghost takes a step back as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. You follow him out the open door and back to the aboveground area. Price is standing near one of the cars. He’s in civilian clothes and completely out of place.

“That’s all, Simon,” says Price as you and Ghost come to a stop next to him. Ghost nods at Price, not even addressing you as he departs. Price taps the side of the beat-up pickup truck. “Ready to go?”

“Go where?” you ask slowly.

“Home.”

Hope blooms and then swiftly departs. A small part of you wants to fight, to tell Price to go fuck himself, but this means you’re leaving this place. The sooner you return to your old life, the sooner this will all fade into memory. A terrible and unfortunate memory.

But is there a catch? All this and now Price is letting you go? Something isn’t right. There has to be more, and yet this may simply be anxiety rearing its ugly head. That happens all the time. You’ve been stomped on and walked over your entire life. All you’ve known are ulterior motives. Why would Price be any different?

“Yeah,” you nod, understanding that this is your only choice. “I’m ready.”

There is no talking as Price opens the passenger door and gestures for you to climb inside. When you step up to it and hoist yourself in, Price places his hand just above the curve of your ass. His touch isn’t exactly helpful but it does send heat straight between your legs, and you hate that it does. Price isn’t your enemy but he’s not your friend either. It also doesn’t help that you keep thinking about his mouth, and what he did with it.

Once you’re seated, he walks around the front of the truck and hops into the driver seat. Inserting the key, Price brings the car to life. You keep your gaze locked on the dirty windshield. Your hands are in your lap and they won’t stop shaking. Shoving them between your knees, you pretend that you’re trying to stay warm as Price maneuvers the vehicle out the barn doors and onto a dirt road. Glancing back over your shoulder, you watch as Gaz closes up the safehouse.

It is an end, and a beginning. This part is shut. Gone. No going back.

But you and Price are driving toward something. You have no idea what it might be, but this isn’t over. It’s not done.

The sun dips below the horizon. The truck’s headlights are shit, but they do enough, illuminating the uneven road. You’re jostled around, teeth clacking against each other every time the truck dips until Price turns out onto paved road.

You have no idea where the two of you are, and you’re not sure you want to ask. Right now, you’re still sour from your earlier conversation with Price. He left you hanging and alone, those goddamn words repeating over and over again in your mind.

I should have taken you on the table. I regret that.

If anyone is going to talk right now, it’ll be Price. You’ll keep silent the entire fucking ride even if it’s unbearable. You won’t give in first. You won’t.

Price’s grip on the steering wheel is knuckle-white. He’s only using one hand. The other is on his thigh and those fingers won’t stop twitching. You pretend not to notice. You pretend that you don’t see Price’s itch or that your own sizzles beneath your skin. It would be so easy to reach over and touch him.

So. Fucking. Easy.

Price’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. “Nikola talked about you.”

“And?” you ask, briefly glancing at Price before looking back at the road.

“Let’s just say Dimitri isn’t the leader he thinks he is.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

Price’s gaze flicks toward you. “Nikola isn’t happy with his boss. And you’re Dimitri’s favorite.”

You sigh heavily. “Very helpful, Captain.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Price shakes his head. “Nikola wanted to get back at Dimitri by taking you away.”

“Dimitri doesn’t give a shit about me,” you reply, knowing that isn’t true at all. Dimitri only wants you. He asks for you all the time. Calls you “Sparrow” instead of your name as if you’re his to do with as he likes.

“That’s a lie,” says Price. “You know that’s a lie.”

Price is calling you out on your bullshit, but you’re not going to contradict him, and you’re certainly not going to press the topic.

“What was the exchange?” you ask, maneuvering the conversation in a different direction. “What did Nikola give you that was so important?” You’re glancing out the passenger window but Price’s reflection is in the glass.

“Nikola gave us information. And I promised him to remove Dimitri from your life.”

You pivot so fast in your seat your head spins. “What?”

“Dimitri won’t bother you anymore,” states Price, but there is a growl to his voice, as if Dimitri’s presence in your life bothers him. Which it fucking shouldn’t, because you and Price aren’t anything to each other.

“I won’t see him again? Ever?” you ask. When you walk into work on Saturday night and Dimitri isn’t there, does that mean he’s gone for good? That Price and his team did what they set out to do?

“You sound upset,” replies Price, but the humor in it is clearly forced.

“Bite me,” you mutter, returning your gaze to the windshield.

The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile and he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. You might have your gaze fixed on the windshield, but you’re not immune to your mind slithering through all the possible things Price might be thinking. It causes your cheeks to heat, and for the space between your thighs to warm.

You shift in the seat, fingers digging into the fabric of your pants. You need to get a fucking grip on yourself. This is ridiculous. Embarrassing. There is no reason for you to be acting this way. It doesn’t matter that you understand how his mouth feels or how his fingers feel inside you.

You’re not going to break. You won’t fall apart for him. Not again.

“Dimitri will disappear but I’ll need your cooperation.”

Your reply is immediate. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not asking.”

You shake your head in disbelief. You want to go home. You want to forget about all of this. To forget about him. About Price. “And I’m not helping you.”

Price shrugs, and it’s so casual you could scream. This man is infuriating, and the way he seems so sure has you on edge. If the truck wasn’t on the highway, you’d open the door and throw yourself out of it just to get away from him.

The rest of the drive is completely silent, and when he pulls up to your apartment building without even asking for directions, you know running from him is fruitless. That is even more apparent when Price parks the truck and gets out of the vehicle to accompany you to the door.

“I can walk myself,” you mutter, but Price is already grabbing onto your elbow, bringing you along with him as he escorts you to your apartment.

Once there, and you unlock the door, Price barges in before you can take a step inside. “Stay here,” he says before disappearing into the dark interior.

“Stay here,” you mimic, completely ignoring his order and following him inside. He checks every room including the closets and underneath the bed.

“Looking for monsters?” you sigh, leaning against the doorframe.

Price pops up from the far side of your bed. There is a deep frown on his face, and you’d almost call it cute but catch yourself at the last second. Using the edge of the bed as leverage, Price returns to his full height. He walks around the side of the bed, and nearly swaggers up to you. There is a soft sway to his hips that immediately makes you alert and aware of every inch of him.

“You’ve been mouthy today,” he murmurs, moving into your space. There isn’t anywhere for you to run off to. You’re trapped between him and the doorframe. “If you keep this up, I will toss you onto that bed and fuck the attitude right out of you.”

What. The. Fuck.

You swallow, all that haughtiness slipping away like ice in the sun. But you hold on to just enough for a reply. “Is that a promise, Captain?”

Price’s knee slots between your legs, opening you up. “It’s a goddamn guarantee, love.”

Your heart thunders in your chest, quickly moving toward your ears. His head dips, lips dangerously close to brushing over yours.

This can’t keep going. The two of you can’t keep doing this. Whatever this is, it needs to end, even if you do want him to follow through.

Placing both hands on his chest, you push. Price only draws back enough to give you the slightest bit of space. His knee is still between your legs and he has one hand planted firmly above your head on the doorframe.

“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean,” you murmur. “Someone might think you’re a liar.”

Price’s other hand falls on your hip, and crawls upward to your waist. “Does this someone want to find out?”

Yes.

But you don’t say it. You don’t give in to him. “You should leave.”

Price’s hand on your waist squeezes. “Is that what you want?”

You know what Price is asking. He’s asking for permission. He’s asking for your consent. This man wants to fuck you. That is apparent by the bulge in his pants. But allowing him to push you onto your hands and knees won’t solve anything. It’ll only satiate the need to feel him moving inside you.

Autonomy is slipping through your fingers fast—too fast. If Price doesn’t move away from you, you will gladly arch your back and present yourself to him.

With a hint of a shake in your voice, you answer him. “Please leave. Please.”

Price’s features melt a bit. Soften. The concern is there as well as acceptance. He wanted you to say yes. He wanted you alone, to open up for him in private instead of at that safehouse. The thought of Price desiring you for himself without any interruptions stirs a warmth in your belly. It goes all the way down to your toes.

Slowly, Price releases his hold on your waist, and he pushes off from the doorframe. Finally, you have room to breathe, to not feel caged even if his closeness is a balm to sore muscles. You draw your arms across yourself like a shield, knowing that this is it. This is your departure.

Price visibly swallows. “Saturday, we’re going after Dimitri. Your help is appreciated but not required.”

You laugh softly. “Now I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.”

Price doesn’t just mean helping him take out Dimitri.

“If I were to help you,” you begin. “What do I need to do?”

Price reaches into his pocket and digs around for a few seconds before retrieving something small and black. “Tag him. With this.” He holds it out to you.

You present your hand, palm upward, and Price makes the exchange. The tag is incredibly small, no larger than the nail on your pinky.

“How am I supposed to tag him with this?” you ask, skeptical.

“Get close,” answers Price. “Slip it into a pocket. Attach it to him in a place that isn’t visible. Wallet. Cell phone. A weapon. Anything.”

You stare at the little device and frown. “Why can’t you just follow him or track his car?”

“Nikola told us Dimitri drives a different car every week. Rentals mostly. We have no idea what he’ll pull in with until he arrives.”

You clench the tracker in your fist. Price is asking for too much. This is far too risky for you to do on your own. If they’re successful in picking up Dimitri, there is a chance that his capture won’t blow back on you. But if they fuck up, or Dimitri finds the tracker before Price and his team snag him, you’re done.

And you don’t want that kind of heat.

“I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head, presenting the tracker to Price. “I can’t. It’s too risky.”

Price only nods, taking it from your open palm. “I understand.” He deposits the device back into his pocket.

The two of you stare at one another, hanging in stretching silence. This is it. You won’t see Price again until Saturday, and you cannot guarantee that you’ll actually see him at all. The bed is right there. You could grab him by the belt, pull him in, push him down onto the bed, and straddle him.

Would he let you take control, or would he flip you onto your back and seize all your autonomy for himself?

“It’s late. I’ll go.” Price’s voice is a blade. It is the finale. The farewell. Silver and sharp and so blatant there isn’t any other way to understand it for what it is.

You can only nod, all the bite from you gone.

The walk to the door is sludge. You don’t even recognize your feet moving with Price. You don’t recognize the broad expanse of his back or the opening of the front door until it shuts in your face, leaving you with the quiet hum of the nearby refrigerator.

Life resumes. It beats on as if nothing happened at all.

No one from work checks on you, and you don’t hear a single fucking word about Chase. Everyone around you continues on. And here you are, knowing that you were kidnapped, involved in a car crash, pulled from wreckage, and then brought to a safehouse where you and Captain Price nearly fucked each other’s brains out on a table.

You believe, perhaps naively, that Price might be a guest at Thirst or even a member of security. While the owner’s hire private security, you don’t put it past Price to figure out a way in. You also consider that you might not see him at all. That you can go about your night without noticing his presence.

How wrong you are.

Saturday night, and Dimitri is here. You do everything you’re supposed to do before heading to his VIP room. The process is the same, and you’re nervous, unsure of what to expect.

But you don’t expect Price.

You didn’t anticipate that he would be in the VIP room with Dimitri.

When you step up onto the raised platform, you nearly drop the tray you’re holding. It’s not only because Price is here and impeccably dressed. There is no tactical gear. No cargo pants or boots. Price wears all black. His shoes are neatly laced and polished. His slacks are perfectly pressed and free of wrinkles. That doesn’t include his button up shirt. With the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to show off his massive forearms, Price looks very much the part.

He oozes sexiness. Your gaze scans his entire body, entirely focused on how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a bit of dark chest hair.

But it’s not only his appearance that has you on alert. While Price is a delicious sight, one of the dancers Dimitri always orders gyrates in Price’s lap. The pounding music that comes through the speakers is a distance thing, and the blood red lighting Dimitri always prefers seems completely insignificant.

Megan is the one in Price’s lap. They’re not having sex, she’s just performing a lap dance, but your heart doesn’t seem to care. It also doesn’t seem to care that Price appears absolutely uninterested. His arms are draped across the back of the sofa and his gaze is fixed on a point beyond her even though it appears that he’s watching her.

You see all of this, your brain processes it, but your heart won’t stop thundering in your chest. This is stupid. Ridiculous. Price is not yours. There is no relationship. Yes, the two of you had sex—well, not explicit sex, but Price did rub his dick against you until his cum coated your inner thigh.

That isn’t much, and you shouldn’t feel this goddamn territorial about him. But you do, and you hate that it’s starting to eat away at your pride.

You swallow down the building hurt, moving closer to the small group. Nikola is absent but Lev and Abram are both here. Addie lounges in Lev’s lap, her glittery heels sparkling even in the blood-tinged lighting. Olivia is in her usual place on the secondary platform where she dances against a pole.

Always the same people. Dimitri never waivers.

You present the vodka and begin distributing the first round of drinks. The last task involves Dimitri’s cigarettes. You kneel next to the table, measuring out the tobacco to begin rolling them.

“Sparrow,” croons Dimitri. “I’ve missed you.”

You straighten your shoulders and glance up at the speaking demon. “Always a pleasure to see you, Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s grin is feral, nearly vicious. “We have a guest.” Dimitri gestures toward price. “I brought a special…friend. Say hello, Sparrow.”

You shift your gaze toward Price, lifting one of the cigarette wrappers to your mouth. Your tongue slides along the appropriate portion. Price’s gaze is locked in, completely focused on you.

“Good evening, friend of Dimitri.” You’re teasing without even trying, and Price notices because he licks his lips to hold back a grin. You glance back at Dimitri and smile softly, rolling the cigarette with perfect precision. “I didn’t know you’d bring a guest. I would have checked in first.”

Dimitri dismisses your comment with a wave of his hand. “Last minute arrangement.”

You nod and use the table to push to your feet. Picking up a pack of matches, you saunter over to Dimitri, giving him your best smile. Your face aches from it but you’re not going to show weakness. No one needs to know how nervous you are.

You place the cigarette between Dimitri’s lips and then strike a match. Doing so requires you to lean in a bit, to stand close to Dimitri. And that asshole uses it to his advantage. Dimitri’s hand grabs the back of your bare thigh as you bring the lit match up to the end of the cigarette. He doesn’t dig his fingers in, just rests his hand against the skin.

You can imagine Price doing this, touching you with this bit of possession. But Dimitri’s hand against your flesh is agony. It is a blow. A knuckled fist breaking jaw bone.

The end of the cigarette glows as Dimitri inhales. You shake out the match. When you try to step away, Dimitri holds firm to your thigh, squeezing like you gave him fucking permission.

The man might be a dick, but he has never outright touched you in this manner. This is new, and you suddenly remember what you and Price talked about in the truck. How Nikola sought to take you away from Dimitri because you’re his favorite.

Dimitri exhales and you hear the pleased sigh. “You always do a fabulous job, Sparrow.” Dimitri squeezes your thigh one more time and then lightly pats it before dropping his hand.

“I aim to please,” you reply, immediately putting enough space between the two of you so that he can’t reach out to touch you again.

You turn toward Price and freeze.

Price’s stare is stony but his clenched fists are murderous. It’s very clear that Price wants to punch Dimitri in the face. A sweet bolt of satisfaction shoots through you, but Megan still moves in Price’s lap which severely diminishes anything you’re feeling toward the man.

“What can I bring you?” you ask, not even offering the menu.

“Whiskey,” replies Price.

“Any preference?”

“Bring us the most expensive bottle,” interjects Dimitri. “My friend here is about to make me a very rich man, and I would like to repay him in kind.”

“Of course,” you nod, making this your exit.

You’re nearly shaking by the time you go into storage and grab the most expensive whiskey off the shelf. It runs close to twenty grand a bottle. When you present it to Dimitri back in the room, he hardly glances at it.

Megan is no longer in Price’s lap. She’s moved on to Abram.

As you prepare the whiskey glass and pour the first draw, Dimitri’s voice catches your attention. “You’re shaking, Sparrow. What has my sweet girl so nervous?”

You want to snap at Dimitri, tell him how much you hate that name, but you put on your best customer service smile instead.

“Not enough sleep,” you laugh casually.

Dimitri only smiles, and it’s not kind. It’s muck. Grime. Coal dust in the lungs. He glances toward Price and his grin widens. “This place provides whatever you want. How about one of the women? My treat.”

“They’re all very beautiful, Dimitri,” replies Price. “But I don’t like to pay to have my dick sucked.”

Dimitri laughs and drapes an arm over the back of the sofa. He takes a long drag on his cigarette. “That can be arranged.”

You cork the whiskey bottle and set it down on the table.

“Sparrow.” Dimitri’s sharpness pulls your attention to him immediately. He nods toward Price.

Is he? No. No.

“Yes, Dimitri?” you reply because it’s all you can say.

“My friend here needs his dick sucked.” Dimitri just stares at you, one eyebrow arched. He appears passive but then you notice the gun on the table in front of him.

How do you play this? How do you navigate this situation?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

At that moment, Megan reaches over and plays with the front of Price’s shirt. “She can’t suck you off. But I can.”

You know Megan is only saying that to help you. She has no idea about you and Price. All she knows is that you are not being paid to do what she, Olivia, and Addie are already being paid for. And Dimitri never asks this of you. Never. He might be a fucking asshole, but he has only ever had you serve him drinks and fetch whatever he asks for.

It also makes no sense that Dimitri would tell you to do this when you’re supposed to be his favorite. That’s what Nikola told Price and his team. That’s why Nikola snatched you in the first place. Did Nikola lie? Or is Dimitri that fucking good at playing everyone?

Dimitri doesn’t even acknowledge Megan. His head tilts to the side, gaze still locked on you. “I don’t pay you to suck dick,” he says flatly.

No, Dimitri does not pay you for that, but he still pays you.

Your smile waivers slightly. It’s not the idea of getting down on your knees for Price. It’s doing that in front of everyone here.

When you don’t move immediately, Dimitri’s face becomes cold, all his features hardening. It is hellish, almost demonic in the way he shifts into this headspace. Your limbs become jelly, and you want to melt into the floor.

Dimitri nods in Price’s direction. “Go.”

You don’t move.

Price speaks up. “I also like my women willing.” He’s not saying that for Dimitri’s benefit. Price is speaking to you, drawing a line, giving you a choice where Dimitri isn’t.

Maybe Dimitri thinks you won’t deny him. That in this, you will not budge. But your eyes dart to the gun on the table, and its silent threat is enough to make you inhale and focus.

Dimitri’s hand not holding the cigarette forms a fist. “You disappoint me, Sparrow. And you know how much I hate being disappointed.”

The image of Nikola taking the bat to the man’s face flares in your head. That will not be you, and you don’t want it to be Price either.

Though your smile waivers, you manage to address Dimitri. “You’ve just surprised me is all.” You smooth out the front of your new cocktail dress, a replacement for the shredded one ruined in the crash. You glance at Price, and while you can’t read exactly what he’s thinking, you do notice the tightness in his brow, and his intensity.

His gaze is on you, shifting to Dimitri in silent observation. You don’t want this to escalate, and it’s not like Dimitri is asking you to suck his dick. You’d refuse him then. Easily. But Price?

At the safehouse you were ready to do just that. Even in your apartment you nearly caved and allowed Price entrance. The separation has only grown a longing in you. One that has become difficult to ignore. Almost every night, your hand has been between your legs as you thought of him.

Salvaging your pride isn’t all that important at the moment. Dimitri is a man you never want to cross. Denying him this might earn you anything. Sure, Dimitri might not shoot you, but he could do so many other awful things.

Dimitri nods again and gestures with an outstretched hand toward Price.

You need to restructure this in your head, present it as something other than what it is. Dimitri believes Price is going to make him a wealthy man. Price pushed away Dimitri’s original offer, and unintentionally offered up an alternative. You have no clue as to how Price and Dimitri are in the same room together, and what this deal might be. It’s likely fake. A ploy to draw Dimitri out.

When you move, your legs are heavy like lead. You walk through mud to arrive in front of Price’s slightly spread legs. Outwardly, he appears cool and calm, but notice the small tells. The twitching muscle in his jaw, the crease in the center of his brow, and the way his chest expands a little too rapidly for someone at rest.

Does anyone else notice? Or are you just that in tune with him?

Slowly, you step forward, and Price flexes his hips, lifting it slightly off the couch as he spreads his legs wider. As you start to sink, your hands go out to rest against the tops of his knees for support.

Your knees do not hit the floor.

Price’s arm snaps forward, his hand grasping the back of your neck. Inhaling, you tense at the grip. He draws you up his body, and buries his face against the side of your head. In this position, it might appear as he’s inhaling your scent or even kissing your cheek.

But Price is doing neither of those things.

“Follow my lead,” he murmurs in your ear.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @tapioca-marzipan @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @daemondoll @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan

[asheepinfrance]

tashi duncan tree scene you are dear to me in ways i cannot describe. one perfectionist who sees her value purely through how much value she can provide to a person or thing to another, i get it. so i wrote about it. as much as i love challengers (just, you know, in case you couldn't tell) I really do wish we got to explore just a bit more of tashi at her lows. so i'm indulging myself, really, and hopefully, you too. love always

You find her lying flat on her back on the dorm room floor when you step inside, just coming back from your stat course. Her injured knee, still wrapped and constantly aching, bent, the other leg out straight in front of her. Its scarred surface is facing upwards like it’s shooting some laser beam upwards. A beam upwards to heaven that says “Don’t you dare forget about me. Look at what you did, God, and feel fucking guilty for it, too.” You think he’d listen. 

This isn’t fair. Absolutely none of it is. It’s not fair when it happens to anyone, bright-eyed and hopeful, but it’s worse when its her. Her with a frown now permanently fixed on her face, eyes unable to do anything but stare off into the distance like it holds an explanation. She hasn’t found one yet, but she’ll keep digging

Tashi had always seemed like she existed in a higher tier of humanity than everyone else. Humanity could be too low in value for her, though. So seeing her having so painfully gone from some miraculous creature to just a woman, a young girl, really, is tonal whiplash. You’ve never needed to pity tashi until now. You’re almost certain she hates you for it, too. She wants to feel strong again. Tashi Duncan needs no help, Tashi Duncan does not cry, Tashi Duncan floats through life like it was made for her to conquer, just the way she’d been during tennis matches. 

She always bounced around the court, such a shining star she literally almost glowed, like a firefly strapped in a mason jar. She’d hit the walls from time to time, screaming ‘let me out, let me do something with myself that’s bigger than just me’. It always seemed more likely for the earth to shatter than that jar, that illusion of ownership over tennis. But the earth collapsing? That’d be a less profound loss, at least. God really should feel guilty. More than that, ashamed

She’s well aware that anger at the world is just misdirected anger at herself, but it kills some of the ache if she pretends that’s not the case. So fuck the world for what it did, and fuck herself more for not being as immortal as she’d liked to think. She’s angry at everyone else, too. Angry at Art, angry at Patrick, and absolutely furious with you. You keep checking in with her, rubbing lotion into that thin, whitened strip down her kneecap. You drop everything when she so much as hisses in pain, and it makes her feel pathetic. So no matter how sweet you may be, how much you so clearly love her, and how much she knows she loves you in return, she won’t show it right now. Right now she has to pretend to be furious, because peeling back that facade would reveal weakness. She refuses to be weaker than she already had been, writhing in pain on the court floors. There was an audience to her imperfections now, and it floored her. 

She doesn’t resist at times, though. It’s only you. You refuse not to be there, even when she refuses to let you. Sometimes the exhaustion, the distress of knowing that every little piece of her life she’d spent on tennis (the vast majority of it) was a waste, that her scholarship was down the drain, hit her all at once. That’s when she lets herself be Tashi Duncan, the human being who’s feeling every possible form of dread. 

You bathe her, you clothe her, you brush her teeth. She rolls her eyes, huffs, crosses her arms, lets herself be a child. She needs to be a child right now or she’ll remember that not everything has a happy ending. It all relaxes, humiliates and completely destroys her. She waits until she thinks you’re asleep, curled onto your side of the bed, back to hers, to let herself cry. She won’t let herself be loud, still, not wanting to disturb you, nor see her in an even more imperfect state. There are hot, salty tears filling her eyes, the kind that sting, and that burn makes her eyes water further, until it’s a cycle of continuous searing that her body just won’t fix. Her useless, apparently-fallible body, with a hideous scar on one knee (you’d been so kind as to wrap it up again after her bath). She’s heaving for air, and she worries this may be the sign that her lungs go next. With her lungs, her heart and her brain until finally she’s floating aimlessly through whatever an afterlife looks like. She hopes it looks like what nights with you usually feel like. She normally would be gazing over your sleeping face, softened in relaxation, until her own slumber followed. Now all she feels is the curve of your spine against hers.

She’s been volatile lately, resisting touch at times, aching for it the next. She’s defensive like a dog, biting and barking and snapping when provoked, even if that “provocation” is just a sweet hand, warm and familiar, reaching to caress her. That thought makes it all hurt worse. 

She doesn’t know how long you’ve been awake, but she registers your arms around her waist and the softness of your voice in her ear. If she has strength in any part of her, it’s whatever  propelled her to face you and wrap every part of her in you. She’s wetting your shirt with these Salton Sea tears, mumbling about how much she loves you (she does), how sorry she is (she’s convinced it’ll kill her), and you just quiet her. In your words, there’s nothing to apologize for. She couldn’t disagree more, but the sentiment soothes her to slowed breathing, dried tears replaced by sighs, semi-conscious heaviness. To herself, to Patrick and Art, to her team, the professional scouts, any spectators, she was no longer a goddess, and no longer had to be treated as such. You seem to be the only person who hasn’t gotten the memo. Or maybe you got it before anyone else, and you folded it neatly in your pocket, kissed it, and chose to love her anyway. She’s content with you, regardless, in a sea of disconcertion, and as long as you continue to be there, she thinks she’ll pull through. As long as you keep holding her, anyway.

[lurkingshan]

(Different anon) I agree with and understand your points re: ~why you watch GMMTV if don't like??~ and why the question is/feels hostile.

But taking the question itself in good faith as "why do you (should I) keep watching shows I think/know I will not like based on how others have been handled?" in the genuine spirit of "explain like I'm 5 because I don't understand the lingo and background but want to understand the concept, how would you explain it to people not as into/knowledgeable/etc BL and the history of GMMTV?

Hi anon! This is an interesting question, because it depends so much on you as an individual and what makes you happy.

I think there is often a misconception that people who post critical meta are having a miserable time and torturing themselves with media they hate, but it's just not true. For folks like me who enjoy thinking critically, this is how we have fun. When I love something, I want to rip open its guts and see how it's all assembled. It's what stimulates my brain and gets me excited. And when I don't love something wholeheartedly, I am interested in figuring out why. I've often had the experience of watching something that I know should be working on me, and if it isn't, that creates an intellectual puzzle that I find very satisfying to solve. Why isn't it working, and what can that help me learn about storytelling? This is also fun for me.

Another misconception I often see in fandom is that if you like something, you can't have negative thoughts about it and you have to pretend it's perfect to be a good fan. Nonsense! Being a hater is fun, especially about things you truly love. I'll give you a really concrete example: Bad Buddy is one of my all time favorite shows. It first aired three years ago and I still think about it nearly every day. It's a show that stimulates my brain but also hits me straight in the heart. But I do not think it's perfect and I get a lot of joy from thinking about the parts that did not work (Wai's redemption, that stupid fake out in the finale, all of episode 9) and making fun of it (have you heard that PAT GOT SHOT??). This, too, is a form of love and source of joy.

So with those misconceptions addressed, why do I keep watching shows I suspect I won't like? First, because you truly never know until you try, and I like to be pleasantly surprised. Two of my favorite shows of this year, Cherry Magic Thailand and Knock Knock Boys, shocked the hell out of me. I went into CMT deeply skeptical only to be charmed against my will and so impressed by how they adapted it, and I went into KKB expecting it to be like 95% of weak Thai pulps only to realize its writing and themes were stronger than they had any right to be. If I stayed away from all media I thought I might not like, I would have never had the amazing experience of watching and discussing those two shows live with friends who also loved them.

Second, like I said above, I still have fun examining shows that are not quite working for me, and sometimes I am compelled by the ambition of shows even if I don't think the execution is serving. A great example of that is The Sign. I wanted to support that show because of who was making it, and it had so much early promise that when it fell apart halfway through, I stuck it out to try to make sense of what went wrong. In cases like that, I like to figure out what a show thinks it's doing, what it's actually doing, and where the disconnect is. It's a fun puzzle for me to sort through such an ambitious mess of a show. This is why, btw, I am never really moved by fanwanks to fill in gaps in story and characterization. I understand why others enjoy fixing shows in their brains and then pretending that's what they actually saw, but it's not what motivates me. My goal with shows like this is not to get myself to like it no matter what, it's to figure out why I don't like it and what could be changed to address that.

Third, I care about ql as a genre, and I like to be aware of how it's evolving and be part of the collective experience of watching it. QL fandom is tiny and I like to know what my friends are talking about! I can't watch everything because there is simply way too much content these days, but I like to watch or at least pay attention to most of the big buzzy shows to track trends and see what's getting the fandom frustrated or excited. I didn't watch We Are because I knew enough about what it was doing and who was involved to understand it was not for me, but I did pay attention to reactions to it. Watching Jack & Joker with Thai bl fandom right now is some of the most fun we've had since Only Friends killed our spirit. J&J is directed by my parasocial frenemy Tee Bundit, whose shows often frustrate the hell out of me and whom I have ripped to shreds on this platform many times over. But I'm not gonna let that stop me from having fun with this new show, because Joke is The Moment and we're all in this together.

So truly, anon: whether or not you should be like me and watch things you may not like or continue watching shows you don't think are very good depends on what motivates you. You should figure out what is most fun for you re: media consumption, and do that. You can seek out people who enjoy media the same way you do, and also befriend people who think differently if you want to learn from each other and don't mind a bit of productive discomfort from time to time. I have gotten better recently at recognizing when I'm just getting nothing out of a show and dropping it like a hot potato (because some shows are not bad in an interesting way, they are just bad), or realizing which shows I will like better on a binge (usually the ones with terrible pacing, that is not as tortuous for me when I can just watch it all in one go). You gotta do some testing to figure it out.

All of this has all been a really long-winded way to say you should do what makes you happy, and don't assume that just because someone else's happiness looks different from yours, that it's wrong.